THE SNOW-WALKEES 53 



none of the cunning or viciousness of the common 

 Old World mouse. 



It is he who, high in the hollow trunk of some 

 tree, lays by a store of beechnuts for winter use. 

 Every nut is carefully shelled, and the cavity that 

 serves as storehouse lined with grass and leaves. 

 The wood-chopper frequently squanders this precious 

 store. I have seen half a peck taken from one 

 tree, as clean and white as if put up by the most 

 delicate hands, — as they were. How long it must 

 have taken the little creature to collect this quan- 

 tity, to hull them one by one, and convey them 

 up to his fifth-story chamber! He is not confined 

 to the woods, but is quite as common in the fields, 

 particularly in the fall, amid the corn and potatoes. 

 When routed by the plow, I have seen the old one 

 take flight with half a dozen young hanging to her 

 teats, and with such reckless speed that some of the 

 young would lose their hold and fly off amid the 

 weeds. Taking refuge in a stump with the rest of 

 her family, the anxious mother would presently 

 come back and hunt up the missing ones. 



The snow-walkers are mostly night-walkers also, 

 and the record they leave upon the snow is the main 

 clew one has to their life and doings. The hare is 

 nocturnal in its habits, and though a very lively 

 creature at night, with regular courses and run- ways 

 through the wood, is entirely quiet by day. Timid 

 as he is, he makes little effort to conceal himself, 

 usually squatting beside a log, stump, or tree, and 

 seeming to avoid rocks and ledges where he might 



