disappointed, giving the least bittern credit for 

 considerable mother-wit and woodcraft. How 

 little wit she really had appeared on my return 

 down-creek that afternoon. 



I had now entered the high, overhanging 

 swamp, where the shaggy trees, the looping vines, 

 and the rank, pulpous undergrowth grew thick 

 on both sides, reaching far back, a wet, heavy 

 wilderness without a path, except for the silent 

 feet of the mink and the otter, and the more 

 silent feet of the creek, here a narrow stream 

 winding darkly down through the shadows. 



Every little while along the rooty, hummocky 

 banks of the creek I would pass a muskrat's 

 slide. Here was one at the butt of a tulip-pop- 

 lar, its platform wet and freshly trodden, its 

 "dive" shooting sheer over a root into the 

 stream. Farther on stood a large tussock whose 

 top was trampled flat and covered with sedge- 

 roots. I could not resist putting my nose down 

 for a sniff, so good is the smell of a fresh trail, 

 so close are we to the rest of the pack. lu the 

 thick of the swamp I stopped a moment to ex- 

 amine the footprints of an otter at a shallow, 

 shelving place along the bank, where, opening 

 [132] 



