there was Tookhees sitting on the rim of my drinking cup, in
which I had left a new leader to soak for the evening's fishing,
scrubbing his face diligently, like a boy who is watched from
behind to see that he slights not his ears or his neck.

Remembering my own boyhood on cold mornings, I looked behind him
to see if he also were under compulsion, but there was no other
mouse in sight. He would scoop up a double handful of water in
his paws, rub it rapidly up over nose and eyes, and then behind
his ears, on the spots that wake you up quickest when you are
sleepy. Then another scoop of water, and another vigorous rub,
ending behind his ears as before.

Simmo was full of wonder, for an Indian notices few things in the
woods beside those that pertain to his trapping and hunting; and
to see a mouse wash his face was as incomprehensible to him as to
see me read a book. But all wood mice are very cleanly; they have
none of the strong odors of our house mice. Afterwards, while
getting acquainted, I saw him wash many times in the plate of
water that I kept filled near his den; but he never washed more
than his face and the sensitive spot behind his ears. Sometimes,
however, when I have seen him swimming in the lake or river, I
have wondered whether he were going on a journey, or just bathing
for the love of it, as he washed his face in my cup.

I left the cup where it was and spread a feast for the little
guest, cracker crumbs and a bit of candle end. In the morning
they were gone, the signs of several mice telling plainly who had
been called in from the wilderness byways. That was the
introduction of man to beast. Soon they came regularly. I had