FOLLOW/NG 
163 
Snow 
Bound 
orchard; across the highway, and 
through the swamp, and into the big 
bare empty woods, mile after weary 
mile, till in the sad gray morning 
light, after toiling all night and tak- ' ^^/^"^ 
ing nothing, he digs under the wild 
apple tree and sits down on the 
snow to eat a frozen apple, lest his 
stomach cry too loudly while he 
sleeps the day away and tries to for- 
get that he is hungry. 
Everywhere it is the same story: 
hard times and poor hunting. Even 
the cheerful chickadees are hard 
pressed to keep up appearances and 
have their sweet love-note ready at 
the first smell of spring in the 
air. 
