Hebrew scholar stared at the tree. Then he 

 stared at me. Had I gone daft so suddenly? 

 But I was dropping off my overcoat and order- 

 ing him away to borrow the ax of a man we 

 heard chopping. He looked utterly undone, 

 but thought it best to humor me, though I know 

 he dreaded putting an ax in my hands just then, 

 and would infinitely rather have substituted his 

 skates. I insisted, however, and he disappeared 

 for the ax. 



The snow was deep, the pine was punky and 

 would easily fall ; and now was the chance to get 

 my mice. They were in there, I knew, for those 

 fine, fresh scratches told of scramblers gone up 

 to the woodpecker holes since the last storm. 



The preacher appeared with the ax. Off came 

 his coat. He was as eager now as though this 

 tottering pine were an altar of Baal. He was 

 anxious, also, to know if I had an extra sense — 

 a kind of X-ray organ that saw mice at the cen- 

 ters of trees. And, priest though he was (shame 

 on the human animal !), he had grown excited 

 at the prospect of the chase of— mice ! 



I tramped away the snow about the tree. The 

 ax was swinging swiftly through the air ; the 

 [275] 



