as plainly as if he said so, to catch him before he can get into his
hole if you can. You hurl a stone at him, and "No you didn't!" comes
up from the depth of his retreat.

In February another track appears upon the snow, slender and
delicate, about a third larger than that of the gray squirrel,
indicating no haste or speed, but, on the contrary, denoting the
most imperturbable ease and leisure, the footprints so close
together that the trail appears like a chain of curiously carved
links. Sir _Mephitis mephitica_, or, in plain English, the skunk,
has awakened from his six weeks' nap, and come out into society
again. He is a nocturnal traveler, very bold and impudent, coming
quite up to the barn and outbuildings, and sometimes taking up his
quarters for the season under the haymow. There is no such word as
hurry in his dictionary, as you may see by his path upon the snow.
He has a very sneaking, insinuating way, and goes creeping about the
fields and woods, never once in a perceptible degree altering his
gait, and, if a fence crosses his course, steers for a break or
opening to avoid climbing. He is too indolent even to dig his own
hole, but appropriates that of a woodchuck, or hunts out a crevice
in the rocks, from which he extends his rambling in all directions,
preferring damp, thawy weather. He has very little discretion or
cunning, and holds a trap in utter contempt, stepping into it as
soon as beside it, relying implicitly for defense against all forms
of danger upon the unsavory punishment he is capable of inflicting.
He is quite indifferent to both man and beast, and will not hurry
himself to get out of the way of either. Walking through the summer
fields at twilight, I have come near stepping upon him, and was much
the more disturbed of the two. When attacked in the open field he
confounds the plans of his enemies by the unheard-of tactics of