UNDER THE APPLE-TREES 
treasures. Three, and often four, nuts at a time, 
went into his pockets. If one of them was too large 
to go in readily, he would take it between his teeth. 
He would first bite off the sharp point from the nut 
to keep it from pricking or irritating his pouches. 
I do not think he feared a puncture. I renewed the 
pile of nuts from time to time, and looked on with 
interest. The day was cloudy and wet, but he ran 
his express train all day. His feet soon became 
muddy, and it was amusing to see him wash his 
face with those soiled paws every time he emerged 
from his hole. It was striking to see how much like 
a machine he behaved, going through the same mo- 
tions at the same points, as regularly as a clock. He 
disappeared into his hole each time with a peculiarly 
graceful movement which seemed to find expression 
in the sweep of his tail. It was to the eye what 
melodious sounds are to the ear, and contrasted 
strangely with the sudden impulsive movements of 
his usual behavior. When he emerged, the top of his 
head and eyes first appeared, then a moment’s 
pause, then the head and neck arose, then the whole 
body shot up in the erect posture with the paws 
folded and hanging down on the white breast. The 
face-washing was the next move, first the mouth, 
then the nose and cheeks. Then, after a swift glance 
around, off he goes, with tail well up in the air, for 
another load. 
As the day declined, and the pile of nuts was ever 
Q1 
