and bushes with a thick, white mantle--so thick and white that all the
paths in the woods were hidden and all the trees and bushes looked
alike, but Sentre and Siccatee and their children knew their home,
and, having wonderful memories, never made a mistake about finding
either their home or their stores of food.

Some of their storehouses were quite a distance off, and in various
directions, but never by any chance did either Sentre or Siccatee
forget where they were. And, although the soft, white mantle had
covered all the little hiding-places, neither were in the least
uneasy, but, when one or the other wanted something for dinner, they
trotted off lightly and nimbly, making straight for one of the hoards;
scratching away the snow, and having taken out a few nuts, or berries,
or dried scraps of meat, or bread, scrambled off to eat it at his or
her leisure.

It was a very hard winter, and had it not been that these little
American squirrels were such good housekeepers they would have fared
very badly, and their young ones would probably have died from cold
and want. But they had plenty of food and a nice, warm nest--the very
same nest in which they had lived for several seasons.

This nest was made of leaves, moss, grass, little twigs, hair,
feathers, little scraps of wool which the sheep had thoughtfully left
on the brambles--anything, in fact, that was soft, and comfortable,
and warm. It was woven so carefully that neither rain nor snow could
get into it, and was so firmly wedged in its place that no wind could
blow it away. Therefore, when they had all taken a little exercise,
had a good meal, and trotted home again, they nestled down in their
warm, cozy home, and were just as happy as they could be.