CHOCORUA IN NOVEMBER. 
209 
gathering winter stores. A fine gray, on seeing 
me, scrambled to the high leafless limbs of an 
oak, becoming there much more conspicuous 
than he had been among the fallen leaves. 
This autumn a farmer shot a gray squirrel and 
hung it in his shed. The cat stole the squirrel 
and shared it with her family. Next day, puss 
went gray-squirrel hunting, and to the farmer’s 
astonishment captured her game and brought 
it home. The squirrel was so large that the cat, 
to avoid tripping over it, walked backwards 
much of the way, pulling it after her. Thus 
far for her thriving family puss is said to have 
secured six gray squirrels. 
A friend of mine, while hunting this fall in 
a grove of oaks, noticed a large gray squirrel 
coming directly towards him through the woods, 
pursued by a red squirrel. Chickaree soon saw 
his danger and stopped, but the gray came 
slowly on, as though searching for something. 
The hunter stood motionless, wondering. Nearer 
and nearer came the inquisitive squirrel, until it 
reached the man’s feet and sniffed at his gun- 
stock. Its eyes seemed to have been injured or 
to be partially covered by a morbid growth. 
The moment the man moved in an effort to 
catch the creature alive, it bounded from him 
and disappeared. 
