um tattoo of alarm. Every one in camp was
awakened, and again, as we were dropping off, the camp was roused by
another loud "tattoo." For nearly two hours this went on; then, about
midnight, utterly unable to sleep, I arose and let the drummer go about
his business, do anything or go anywhere, so only he would be quiet and
let us attend to ours.

[Illustration: XXIX. The Baby Cottontail that rode twenty miles in my
hat
_Photo by E. T. Seton_]

[Illustration: XXX. Snowshoe Rabbits dancing in the light of the lantern
_Sketch by E. T. Seton_]

Next morning I photographed the little Bunny, and set him free to join
his kin. It is a surprising fact that though we spent two weeks in this
valley, and a month in those mountains, we did not see another wild
Rabbit.

This incident is unique in my experience. It is the only time when I
found the Snowshoe Hares gathered for a social purpose, and is the only
approach to a game that I ever heard of among them.

THE GHOST RABBIT

An entirely different side of Rabbit life is seen in another mysterious
incident that I have never been able to explain.

At one time when I lived in Ontario, I had a very good hound that was
trained to follow all kinds of trails. I used to take him out in the
woods at night, give him general instructions "to go ahead, and report
everything afoot"; then sit down on a log to listen to his reports. And
he made them with remarkable promptness. Slight differences in his bark,
and the course taken, enabled me to tell at once whether it was Fox,
Coon, Rabbit, Skunk, or other local game. And his peculiar falsetto yelp
when the creature treed, was a joyful invitation to "come and see for
yourself."

[Illustration]

The hound's bark for a Fox was deep, strong, and at regular intervals as
befitted the strong trail, and the straightaway run. But for a Rabbit
it was broken, uncertain, irregular and rarely a good deep bay.

[Illustration]

One night the dog bawled in his usual way, "Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit," and
soon leaving the woods he crossed an open field where the moon shone
brightly, and I could easily see to follow. Still yelping "Rabbit,
Rabbit, Rabbit," he dashed into a bramble thicket in the middle of the
field. But at once he dashed out again shrieking, "Police! Help!
Murder!" and took refuge behind me, cowering up against my legs. At the
same moment from the side of that bramble thicket there went out--_a
Rabbit_. Yes, a common Rabbit all right