hunting-boots, that I had put on against the 

 dew of the early morning. All my thought and 

 energy, all my hope, centered immediately in 

 those boots. 



The woodchuck kept his thoughts iu his head. 

 Into his heels he put what speed he had ; and 

 little as that was, it counted, pieced out with the 

 head-work. 



Back in my college days I ran a two-mile race 

 —the greatest race of the day, the judges said— 

 and just at the tape lost two gold medals and 

 the glory of a new intercollegiate record because 

 I did n't use my head. Two of us out of twenty 

 finished, and we finished together, the other fel- 

 low twisting and falling forward, breaking the 

 string with his side, while I, pace for pace with 

 him— did n't think. 



For a moment the woodchuck and I stood 

 motionless, he studying the situation. I was at 

 the very mouth of his burrow. It was coming 

 to sure death for him to attempt to get in. Yet it 

 was sure death if he did not get in, for I should 

 run him down. 



Had you been that woodchuck, gentle reader, 

 I wonder if you would have taken account of 

 [25] 



