JOE AND CRONIE. 103 

the trees. You see the leaves ploughed up in ridges, nosed 
over and trampled upon; this is ‘** Bruin,” he roots like a 
pig for them; smaller spots, in places scraped clean of leaves 
is by the red deer. Both love them and continue to visit the 
groves, and scrape and root for them until after the first 
snows. Fat old Mr. Bruin comes slowly trotting over the 
hills, making a spanking big track in the light snow, a third 
larger than his foot really is, his toes and claws showing 
plainly if a damp, light snow. 
The porcupine is often the first to be seen in the early 
morning after his breakfast. He climbs to the top of the tree, 
and there sitting in the fork of a limb, reaches out and draw- 
ing in an armful of twigs containing the ripest and best, and 
hugging them to his breast, he chews away at his quiet 
leisure, merely blinking and twinkling his small, bead-like, 
black eyes, when the old screaming blue jay grows the most 
excited and indignant at his piggishness. Both the porcu- 
pine and squirrel commence to eat them much before the 
regular harvest, and soon the blue jay takes the hint and is 
picking open the burrs, and next the partridges. 
As they are slowly walking down from the beeches, Joe a 
little behind, something large is seen to wheel quickly and 
face toward them. Cronie steps quickly behind a tree, noti- 
fying Joe by giving two low calls of the blue jay. He 
understands, gets a glance of it and it is gone. There was 
but little or no wind; about ten or twelve rods down the 
road stood a cow moose looking up at them. Joe for the 
first time in his life sees a live moose in the woods, but only 
to get a short peep of her when she trotted down the hill out 
of sight. ‘*Oh, ” said Joe, ‘* how I should like to get a fine 
view of that moose.” So they crept along very quietly a 
