ot. But he stood for a minute or two looking down with whimsical
respect on the dead form of the carcajou.

"Y' ain't nawthin' but a thief an' stinkin' Glutton," he muttered
presently, "an' the whole kit an' bilin' of ye's got to be wiped out!
But, when it comes to grit, clean through, I takes off my cap to ye!"

WHEN THE TRUCE OF THE WILD IS DONE

BY day it was still high summer in the woods, with slumbrous heat at
noon, and the murmur of insects under the thick foliage. But to the
initiated sense there was a difference. A tang in the forest scents
told the nostrils that autumn had arrived. A crispness in the feel of
the air, elusive but persistent, hinted of approaching frost. The
still warmth was haunted, every now and then, by a passing ghost of
chill. Here and there the pale green of the birches was thinly webbed
with gold. Here and there a maple hung out amid its rich verdure a
branch prematurely turned, glowing like a banner of aerial rose. Along
the edges of the little wild meadows which bordered the loitering
brooks the first thin blooms of the asters began to show, like a veil
of blown smoke. In open patches, on the hillsides the goldenrod burned
orange and the fireweed spread its washes of violet pink. Somewhere
in the top of a tall poplar, crowning the summit of a glaring white
bluff, a locust twanged incessantly its strident string. Mysteriously,
imperceptibly, without sound and without warning, the change had
come.

Hardly longer ago than yesterday, the wild creatures had been unwary
and confident, showing themselves everywhere. The partridge coveys had
whirred up noisily in full view of the passing woodsman, and craned
their necks to watch him from the near-by branches. On every shallow
mere and tranquil river-reach the flocks of wild ducks had fed boldly,
suffering canoe or punt to come within easy gunshot. In the heavy
grass of the wild meadows, or among the long, washing sedges of the
lakeside, the red deer had pastured openly in the broad daylight, with
tramplings and splashings, and had lifted large bright eyes of
unterrified curiosity if a boat or canoe happened by. The security of
that great truce, which men called "close season" had rested sweetly
on the forest.

Then suddenly, when the sunrise was pink on the mists, a gunshot had
sent the echoes clamouring across the still lake waters, and a flock
of ducks, flapping up and fleeing with frightened cries, had left one
of its members s