h to the surprise of the naturalists, they
heard the squeak of the Coneys all night long.

These animals love the sunshine, the warmth and the daylight, and dread
cold and darkness as much as we do. It must have been a bitter
experience when at the call of the older ones every little Coney had to
tumble out of his warm bed in the chill black hours and face the driving
sleet to save the winter's supplies. But tumble out they did, and
overtime they worked, hard and well, for when the morning dawned the
slide-rock and the whole world was covered deep in snow, but every
haycock had been removed to a safer place under the rocks, and the
wisdom of the Coney once more exemplified, with adequate energy to make
it effective.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: XXXI. Snowshoe Rabbits fascinated by the lantern
_Sketched in the Bitterroot Mts. by E. T. Seton_]

[Illustration: XXXII. The Ghost Rabbit
_Sketch by E. T. Seton_]

HIS SAFETY IS IN THE ROCKS

No one has ever yet found the home nest of the Calling Hare. It is so
securely hidden under rocks, and in galleries below rocks, that all
attempts to dig it out have thus far failed. I know of several men, not
to mention Bears, Badgers, Wolverines, and Grizzlies, who have essayed
to unearth the secret of the Coney's inner life. Following on the trail
of a Coney that bleated derisively at me near Pagoda Peak, Col., I began
at once to roll rocks aside in an effort to follow him home to his den.
The farther I went the less satisfaction I found. The uncertain trail
ramified more and more as I laboured. Once or twice from far below me I
heard a mocking squeak that spurred me on, but that too, ceased. When
about ten tons of rock had been removed I was baffled. There were half a
dozen possible lines of continuation, and while I paused to wipe the
"honest sweat" from my well-meaning brow, I heard behind me the "weak,"
"weak," of my friend as though giving his estimate of my resolution, and
I descried him--I suppose the same--on a rock point like a moss-bump
against the sky-line away to the left. Only, one end of the moss-bump
moved a little each time a squeak was cast upon the air. I had not time
to tear down the whole mountain, so I did as my betters, the Bears and
Badgers have done before me, I gave it up. I had at least found out why
the Coney avoids the pleasant prairie and the fertile banks, and I
finished with a new and profounder understanding of the Scripture text
which says in