52 EVERYDAY ADVENTURES 
and propounded several ingenious theories to account 
for the presence of this strange species. This dis- 
course continued until we reached the historic white 
oak near the end of the valley, where the Botanist 
once found a flock of bay-breasted warblers in the 
middle of a rainstorm; and again J heard the story 
of that day.: 
Through the valley flowed a little stream, and the 
snow along its banks told of the goings and comings 
of the wild-folk. Gray squirrels, red squirrels, musk- 
rats, rabbits, mice, foxes, weasels, all had passed 
and repassed along these banks. 
To me the most interesting trail was that of a 
blarina shrew. His track in the snow is a strange 
one. It is a round, tunnel-like trail, like that of 
some large caterpillar, with the trough made by the 
wallowing little body filled with tiny alternate tracks 
— one of the strangest of all the winter trails. 
I could obtain very little enthusiasm from the Bot- 
anist over blarinas. He still babbled of laurel-leafed 
oaks and similar frivolities. Even the crowning event 
of the walk left him cold. It came on the home- 
stretch. We were passing through the last pasture 
before reaching the humdrum turnpike which led 
to the tame-folk. Suddenly in the snow I saw a 
strange trail. It was evidently made by a jumper, 
but not one whose track I knew. I followed it, until 
among the leaves in a bank something moved. 
Before my astonished eyes hopped falteringly, but 
bravely, a speckled toad. 
The winter sun shone palely on his brown back 
