What can be more delightful, to a boy of spirit, than a day in the
woods when there has been a good snow! If he also happens to have a
good friend or two, and some good dogs (who are just as likely to be
friends as his boy-companions), he ought to be much happier than an
ordinary king. A forest is a fine place at any time, but when the
ground is well covered with snow--especially if there is a hard crust
upon it--the woods seem to possess a peculiar charm. You can go
anywhere then.

In the summer, the thick undergrowth, the intertwining vines, and the
heavy lower branches of the trees, make it difficult even to see into
the dark recesses of the forest. But in the winter all is open. The
low wet places, the deep holes, the rotten bogs, everything on the
ground that is in the way of a good run and a jump, is covered up. You
do not walk a hundred yards under the bare branches of the trees
before up starts a rabbit, or a hare, if you would rather call him by
his right name,--and away go the dogs, and away you go--all of you
tearing along at the top of your speed!

But poor Bunny has a small chance, when a hard snow is on the ground.
His hiding-places are all covered up, and before he knows it the dogs
have caught him, and your mother will have stewed rabbit for supper.
It seems a hard fate for the poor little fellow, but he was born
partly for that purpose.

When you have caught your rabbit, and come back to where the men are
cutting wood, you will be just as proud to tell the boy who is cutting
up the branches all about your splendid hunt, as if you had chased and
killed a stag.