the one
in the hotel, to wit: one in the harness shop and one in Joyce's, both
at the north end of the street and opposite each other; one in the
bank; one in Townsend's store at the south end of the street on the
west side, and one in the depot out across the square in front of the
south end of the street. There was a chance for a good tunnel to all
of these except to the depot; here the northwest wind had swept across
the square and the ground in some places was almost bare.

But the street between the houses was filled up pretty much like a
bread tin with a loaf, and starting from the north side of my first
tunnel I began another and ran it straight up the street to between
the harness shop and Joyce's, and here I ran side tunnels to each of
these. The snow was rather low in front of Joyce's at first, and was
not enough above the sidewalk to give me room, but the sidewalk here
was high, being made of plank, as were all the walks in town; so I
went under it by getting down on my hands and knees, and, as the
building had no underpinning, I went on under and up through a
trap-door in the floor. I got a good many things to eat from Joyce's,
such as canned fruit and the like; but I always wrote down on a piece
of paper nailed on the wall everything I got from any store, so that
in the spring, if I were still alive, I could pay for it, or, if it
were food, Sours could, since I was, of course, still working for him
and it was his place to pay for my keep.

South from the first tunnel I next ran another and curved it into
Townsend's store. This was a fine, high tunnel; and it would have done
your heart good to have seen Kaiser whisk about through all of them,
filling the air with snow from waving his tail, just like a great
feather duster, and oftentimes barking at the top of his voice. "Be
still, sir," I would say to him; "you will disturb the neighbors," at
the which he would bark the louder. I often wondered what a stranger
on top of the drifts would have thought to have heard the dog's noise
beneath his feet.

It always seemed warm and comfortable in the tunnels, if they were
made of snow; this you noticed particularly on a blizzardy day, since,
of course, no wind whatever got into them. Indeed, on a windy day I
doubt not a snow tunnel would be warmer than a house without a fire.
But though Kaiser delighted in the tunnels, Pawsy would have nothing
to do with any of them at all except the one which led from the
woods