How Animals Talk 



twig ends with a bud in clear space; but the 

 farther or landward end of a logging-road dwindles 

 to a deer-path, the path to a rabbit-run, and the 

 run vanishes in some gloomy cedar swamp or 

 trackless thicket where is no outlook on any side. 



It is in such places, while you puzzle over another 

 man's road instead of keeping your own trail 

 straight, that you are most apt to get lost. Com- 

 ing back you need have no fear of going astray, 

 since all these trails lead to the main road, and 

 thence downhill to the lake; but going forward it 

 is well to steer clear of all branch roads, which 

 lead nowhere and confuse the sense of direction. 



Leaving the road behind, therefore, and heading 

 still eastward, you cross a ridge where the hard- 

 woods stand, as their ancestors stood, untouched 

 by the tools of men. Immense trunks of beech 

 or sugar-maple or yellow birch tower upward wide 

 apart, the moss of centuries upon them ; far over- 

 head is a delicate tracery of leaves, a dance of 

 light against the blue, and over all is the blessed 

 silence. 



Beyond the ridge the ground slopes downward 

 to a uniform level. Soon the moss grows deeper 

 underfoot, with a coolness that speaks of perpetual 

 moisture. The forest becomes dense, almost be- 

 wildering; here a "black growth" of spruce or 

 fir, there a tangle of moosewood, yonder a swale 



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