heads appeared beyond the openings between the snow-mantled trees. The
hunter, taking aim, addressed them:

"My brothers, I need your . . ." Then the violent report of his gun
shattered the stillness, and the leader, a doe, lunged forward a few
paces, staggered upon trembling legs, and then sank down into the
brilliantly sunny snow. But before Oo-koo-hoo could re-load for a
second shot the rest of the little band passed out of range, and, with
their high-stepping, hackney action, soon passed out of sight. So,
later on, with our sled again heavily loaded, and with packs of meat
upon our backs, we set out for home.


THE MAN WHO HIBERNATED

Next morning, soon after sunrise, while I was breaking trail across a
lake, I espied a log house in a little clearing beside a large beaver
meadow. As it was about the time we usually stopped for our second
breakfast, I turned in the direction of the lonely abode. It was a
small, well-built house, and with the exception of the spaces at the
two windows and the door, was entirely enclosed by neatly stacked
firewood suitable for a stove. Beyond, half built in the rising
ground, stood a little log stable, and near it a few cattle were eating
from haystacks. Going up to the shack, I knocked upon the door, and as
a voice bade me enter I slipped off my snowshoes, pulled the latch
string, and walked in. Entering from the dazzling sunlight made the
room at first seem in darkness. Presently, however, I regained my
sight, and then beheld the interior of a comfortable little home--the
extreme of neatness and order; and then I saw a human form lying
beneath the blankets of a bunk in a far corner. Later I noticed that