EYE-BEAMS 113 



but he did not reappear. Our presence had made 

 him suspicious, and he was going to wait a while. 

 Then I removed some dry leaves and exposed his 

 doorway, a small, round hole, hardly as large as 

 the chipmunk makes, going straight down into the 

 ground. We had a lively curiosity to get a peep 

 into his larder. If he had been carrying in mice at 

 this rate very long, his cellars must be packed with 

 them. With a sharp stick I began digging into the 

 red clayey soil, but soon encountered so many roots 

 from near trees that I gave it up, deciding to return 

 next day with a mattock. So I repaired the dam- 

 ages I had done as well as I could, replaced the 

 leaves, and we moved off. 



The next day, which was mild and still as usual, 

 I came back armed, as I thought, to unearth the 

 weasel and his treasures. I sat down where we had 

 sat the day before and awaited developments. I 

 was curious to know if the weasel was still carrying 

 in his harvest. I had sat but a few minutes when 

 I heard again the rustle in the dry leaves, and saw 

 the weasel coming home with another mouse. I ob- 

 served him till he had made three trips; about every 

 six or seven minutes, I calculated, he brought in a 

 mouse. Then I went and stood near his hole. This 

 time he had a fat meadow-mouse. He laid it down 

 near the entrance, went in and turned around, and 

 reached out and drew the mouse in after him. That 

 store of mice I am bound to see, I thought, and then 

 fell to with the heavy mattock. I followed the hole 

 down about two feet, when it turned to the north. 



