56 



THE SNOW-WALKERS. 



drifts, lift themselves up cold and white against the 

 sky, the black lines of fences here and there obliterated 

 by the depth of the snow. Presently a fox barks away 

 up next the mountain, and I imagine I can almost see 

 him sitting there, in his furs, upon the illuminated sur- 

 face, and looking down in my direction. As I listen, 

 one answers him from behind the woods in the valley. 

 What a wild winter sound, — wild and weird, up among 

 the ghostly hills. Since the wolf has ceased to howl 

 upon these mountains, and the panther to scream, there 

 is nothing to be compared with it. So wild ! I get up 

 in the middle of the night to hear it. It is refreshing 

 to the ear, and one delights to know that such wild 

 creatures are among us. At this season Nature makes 

 the most of every throb of life that can withstand her 

 severity. How heartily she indorses this fox ! In 

 what bold relief stand out the lives of all walkers of 

 the snow ! The snow is a great tell-tale, and blabs as 

 effectually as it obliterates. I go into the woods, and 

 know all that has happened. I cross the fields, and if 

 only a mouse has visited his neighbor, the fact is 

 chronicled. 



The red fox is the only species that abounds in 

 my locality ; the little gray fox seems to prefer a 

 more rocky and precipitous country, and a less vigorous 

 climate ; the cross fox is occasionally seen, and there 

 are traditions of the silver gray among the oldest 

 hunters. But the red fox is the sportsman's prize, 

 and the only fur-bearer worthy of note in these moun- 



