hardly a moose or a deer alive in the woods; for their hoofs are sharp
and sink deep, and with six feet of snow on a level they can scarcely
run half a mile outside their paths without becoming hopelessly
stalled or exhausted.

It is this great tangle of paths, by the way, which makes a deer or a
moose yard; and not the stupid hole in the snow which is pictured in
the geographies and most natural history books.

But Megaleep the Wanderer makes no such provision he depends upon
Mother Nature to take care of him. In summer he is brown, like the
great tree trunks among which he moves unseen. Then the frog of his
foot expands and grows spongy, so that he can cling to the
mountain-side like a goat, or move silently over the dead leaves. In
winter he becomes a soft gray, the better to fade into a snowstorm, or
to stand concealed in plain sight on the edges of the gray, desolate
barrens that he loves. Then the frog of his foot arches up out of the
way; the edges of his hoof grow sharp and shell-like, so that he can
travel over glare ice without slipping, and cut the crust to dig down
for the moss upon which he feeds. The hoofs, moreover, are very large
and deeply cleft, so as to spread widely when his weight is on them.
When you first find his track in the snow, you rub your eyes, thinking
that a huge ox must have passed that way. The dew-claws are also
large, and the ankle joint so flexible that it lets them down upon the
snow. So Megaleep has a kind of natural snowshoe with which he moves
easily over the crust, and, except in very deep, soft snows, wanders
at will, while other deer are prisoners in their yards. It is the
snapping of these loose hoofs and ankle joints that makes the merry
clacking sound as caribou run.