UNDER THE APPLE-TREES 
shells of hickory-nuts and cherry-pits, but, dig as we 
would, we could not find any recess or granary large 
enough to hold the peck or more of nuts that I had 
seen him carry in. We searched carefully for side 
chambers into which he might have stored the sur- 
plus of his unexpected harvest, but we found none. 
He would not have prepared in advance for such a 
contingency, as he could have had no hint of the 
bounty which a designing and near-by Providence 
was to bestow upon him. 
The shells we found accounted for only a small 
fraction of those with which we had supplied him. 
Not a chestnut or a peach-pit or a hickory-nut did 
we find, nor any corn, nor wild seeds of any sort. I 
was much puzzled, and am still, as to just what had 
happened. The chipmunk either had been plun- 
dered by his neighbors, or else had freely distributed 
his supplies among them. What did the new hole 
signify? The old one was ample, and led to the same 
chamber. We did not find the chipmunk in his den, 
nor any convincing evidence that he had recently 
been there. Although I spent the following summer 
in the same bush camp, I am not certain that I ever 
saw my little neighbor that season. But the next fol- 
lowing season, he or another was again my neighbor 
under the apple-trees, and disclosed to me a refresh- 
ing bit of natural history — that of a chipmunk 
digging his hole. He came and dug it in broad 
daylight within a few yards of my bush camp under 
26 
