rather deserted now, while the weather, too, was certainly turning
remarkably cool.

At length the frost and snow really did come, and the Chickadees were
in a woeful case. Indeed, they were frightened out of their wits, and
dashed hither and thither, seeking in vain for someone to set them
aright on the way to the south. They flew wildly about the woods, till
they were truly crazy. I suppose there was not a Squirrel-hole or a
hollow log in the neighbourhood that some Chickadee did not enter to
inquire if this was the Gulf of Mexico. But no one could tell anything
about it, no one was going that way, and the great river was hidden
under ice and snow.

About this time a messenger from Mother Carey was passing with a message
to the Caribou in the far north; but all he could tell the Chickadees
was that _he_ could not be their guide, as he had no instructions, and,
at any rate, he was going the other way. Besides, he told them they had
had the same notice as their cousins whom they had called "crazy"; and
from what he knew of Mother Carey, they would probably have to brave
it out here all through the snow, not only now, but in all following
winters; so they might as well make the best of it.

This was sad news for the Tomtits; but they were brave little fellows,
and seeing they could not help themselves, they set about making the
best of it. Before a week had gone by they were in their usual good
spirits again, scrambling about the twigs or chasing one another as
before. They had still the assurance that winter would end. So filled
were they with this idea that even at its commencement, when a fresh
blizzard came on, they would gleefully remark to one another that it was
a "sign of spring," and one or another of the band would lift his voice