apt to desert the cool, breezy
heights charming to wood-lovers, to build in some impenetrable tangle,
where the ground is wet and full of treacherous quagmires, where
mosquitoes abound, and flies do greatly flourish, where close-growing
branches and leaves keep out every breath of air, and there is no solid
rest for the legs of a camp-stool. Such a difference does it make, as
to a desirable situation, from which side you look at it.

[Sidenote: _A SPORTSMAN IN FUR._]

The principal inhabitant presented himself before we were fairly seated,
a chipmunk, who came out of his snug door under the roots of a
maple-tree and sat up on his doorstep--one of the roots--to make his
morning toilet, dress his sleek fur, scent the sweet fresh air, and
enjoy himself generally. In due time he ran down to the little brook
before the door, and then started out, evidently after something to eat;
and he went nosing about on the ground with a thoroughness to make a
bird-lover shudder, for what ground bird's nest could escape him!

I recognize the fact that, from his point of view, chipmunks must live,
and why should they not have eggs for breakfast? Doubtless, in squirrel
philosophy, it is a self-evident truth that birds were created to supply
the tables of their betters in fur, and the pursuit of eggs and
nestlings adds the true sportsman's zest to the enjoyment of them. So
long, therefore, as the law that "might makes right" prevails in higher
quarters, we are forced to acknowledge, however grudgingly, his "right"
to his game; but for all that I should like exceedingly to protect it
from him.

I could not long keep a bird-lover studying a chipmunk. In a few minutes
we started again on our way up the mountain. Each side of our primitive
wood road was bordered with ferns in their first tender green, many of
them still wearing their droll little hoods. Forward marched the
Enthusiast; breathlessly I followed. Up one little hill, down another,
over a third we hastened.

"See!" I said, hoping to arrest the tireless steps; "on that tree I saw
yesterday a scarlet tanager."

"Oh, did you?" she said carelessly, pausing not an instant in her steady
tramp.

Then rose the note we were listening for, far to the left of the road.

"He's over there!" she cried eagerly, leaving the path, and pushing in
the direction of the sound. "But I'm afraid I shall tire you," she
added. "You sit down here, and I'll just go on a little."

"No, indeed!" I answ