ause to look up wonderingly at their swaying tops. Woodchucks,
so fat from their summer feeding that it seemed as if their coats must
split, were locating their winter homes where they might sleep
comfortably during the cold months. Often during the night a wedge of
flying geese went honking over the forest, driven south by Arctic gales.

The first snow came drifting down like white feathers from some giant
flock of birds, falling softly among the spruce and hemlock and covering
the wilderness with a carpet that left a tell-tale record of every foot
which crossed its smooth expanse. And as the face of the wilderness
changed, its inhabitants, also, changed. Some went into hiding for the
cold months; others, fierce beasts such as the wolf and wildcat, simply
donned warmer coats; still others, notably the hare and the ptarmigan,
weaker and therefore in greater danger during the months of famine, put
on coats of white which made them almost indistinguishable against the
snowy background of the forest.

The snow found the herd of deer, under command of the big buck, heading
northward to the country of evergreens. Here, deep in a balsam swamp,
the winter "yard" was made, a labyrinth of intersecting paths leading to
the best food supplies and providing safety and shelter for the deer.
The fragrant balsam tips made excellent feeding and, by scraping away
the snow, the herd found plenty of moss and lichens for browsing. Here
they were quartered safe from all enemies, for though the deer were
familiar with the winding paths, an enemy soon became bewildered in
their many ramifications and was glad to get out alive without its
dinner.

As the cold increased, the snow grew deeper. The paths were kept trodden
to the ground and, sheltered between their warm banks, the deer did not
suffer from the cutting winds. Food was still plentiful, though the
lower branches of the hemlocks had been stripped and the tender tips had
long since been devoured.

One night in midwinter Brown Brother, in spite of the safety of his
fortress, had a narrow escape. The herd had wandered to the edge of the
yard where they stood looking out across the great lonely barrens. The
snow was deep and soft and the deer knew better than to venture forth.
With their tiny, sharp hoofs they would have floundered helplessly at
every step, and so become an easy prey to the first enemy that came
along.

The wind had died away with the setting of the sun, and the night