How Animals Talk 



as the finger of my strange timepiece. When it 

 rested on a bed of brimming pitcher-plants it 

 pointed to the lunch in my pocket ; when it touched 

 the root of a water-maple it spoke of the home 

 trail; and between, at irregular intervals, were a 

 nanny-bush, a tuft of wild cotton and a shy 

 orchid to mark the less important hours. Once, 

 when I glanced at the slow-moving shadow, it 

 was topped by a striking symbolic figure, and 

 looking up quickly I found an eagle perched on 

 the outstretched finger of my dial. After that the 

 old tamarack had a new dignity in my eyes; it 

 stood on an eagle's line of flight, one of his regular 

 ways in crossing from mountain to lake, and from 

 it the kingly-looking bird was wont to survey this 

 part of his silent domain, the sun gleaming on his 

 snow-white crest. 



A stone's-throw behind my larch blind was a 

 portly young fir, which I could never pass without 

 a smile as it nodded to remind me that it was not 

 like other firs. Thousands of these trees, crowd- 

 ing the northern forest, seem to be all grown on the 

 same model, like peas in a pod ; but this one had a 

 character and a history to set it forever apart from 

 its kind. And this is the tale which always passed 

 silently between us when we met: 



One day, as I watched some deer at the salt-lick, 

 they suddenly became uneasy, looking and harking 



[290] 



