THE SEVEN SLEEPERS 193 
erring barrage, which however seemed to cause them 
no especial inconvenience. Before long every hunter, 
except myself, had one or more skunks tucked 
away in his pockets. 
It was a long, strong night. Before it was over I 
was in some doubt as to whether I had been attend- 
ing a possum hunt or had taken part in a skunk 
chase. My family had no doubt whatever on the sub- 
ject when I reached home the next morning. I was 
earnestly invited to tarry in the wilderness until 
such time as I could obtain a complete change of 
raiment. Thereafter I tried to give my hunting 
clothes away to the worthy poor. Said poor, however, 
would have none of them, and they repose in a lonely 
grave in a Philadelphia back-yard even unto this 
day. 
I saw him last fall sitting up like a little post in 
the Half-Moon Lot where the blind blue gentian 
grows. Every once in a while he would drop down 
and begin to nibble again, only to stop and sit up 
stiff and straight on sentry duty. For the gray, 
grizzled woodchuck is as wary as he is fat. Watch- 
fulness is the price of his life. 
Once I spied him far out in a clover-patch, nibbling 
away at the pink sweet blossoms as I passed along 
the road. At the bar-way a chipmunk leaped into the 
wall with a sharp squeak. Without even stopping to 
raise his head, Mr. Woodchuck scuttled through 
the clover, and dived into his burrow. It was a bit 
of animal team-work such as takes place when a 
