trail ; and by that you may know he is more 

 than hungry. 



Life is here, you see ; though it is now 

 hidden away where it takes more than eyes 

 to find it. Tracks are everywhere, all kinds 

 of tracks, telling their stories of last night's 

 wanderings, from the dainty tracery of the 

 wood-mice to the half-filled path that leads 

 you to the moose-yard on the other side of 

 the great ridge. Follow any of them and 

 you find life, or the plain record of life, that 

 goes swiftly and silently to its chief end 

 and concerns itself diligently about its own 

 business. There, a little farther on, are your 

 own snow-shoe slots of yesterday. And see, 

 close beside them, following every turn and 

 winding of your trail but never crossing it, 

 are the cunning tracks of Pequam the fisher. 

 Clear to your camp in a five-mile circle he 

 followed your trail, and even now, behind 

 you, he may be sniffing again at the new, 

 strange tracks that rouse his curiosity. 



Once, feeling that I was followed, I stole 

 back cautiously and caught him hanging to 

 my heels like a shadow ; but why he follows 



233 



<fPeguazn 



