ing small snowballs, he threw them at particular trees that he
fixed upon, and never failed to hit them. He went more slowly when he
was once fairly in the wood, and often looked round. Two bullfinches
were perched on a mountain ash close to the path, twittering
incessantly, but as if half asleep, and every now and then picking the
red berries; but many more than they ate, were scattered on the ground.
"You are silly, greedy fellows, and destroy more than you eat," said
Joseph, and, despising the simple creatures, went on his way. Below in
the valley a bird was singing charmingly, and with infinite tenderness:
it sounded something like the notes of a thrush. What could it be? And
the bird went on singing and flying--on and on, further and further!
Deep snow was lying where the path takes a sharp turn. At the very
first step Joseph sunk up to his knees. He was, however, quick enough
to clamber up an overhanging bank, and then to get down again into the
path beyond the snowdrift. It was lucky that this steep declivity was
planted with mountain ash, to show the way.

"Do the mountain ash berries belong to my father, too, I wonder?" said
Joseph aloud. The trees could not answer him, and there was no human
being near to give him any information. A fox appeared on the path in
the thicket, and stared at the boy. No doubt he was puzzled to make out
what such a singular apparition could be: he stood for some moments
immoveable, watching the boy, till the latter cried out, "Get along!"
And off trotted the fox, but in no hurry, and little Joseph again
exclaimed, "Yes, grandfather, it is just as you said, for now I saw it
myself,--the fox drags his tail after him on the ground, to brush away
the marks of his paws, that no one may know which way he is gone. How
clever of him!" Magpies chattered from the tops of the trees, and a
crossbill was perched on a projecting bit of rock, just above the
valley; and the boy nodded to it, and the bird nodded too: he did not
say a word, but he only opened and shut his beak, as if he wished to
say, "I am hungry." "There's something for you!" cried little Joseph,
flinging down the ravine the only bit of bread he had left. The bird,
no doubt, supposed that it was a stone thrown at him, for he flew away
timidly, and the piece of bread was buried in the snow, so no one got a
share of it.

Joseph went on quietly, resting sometimes under a tree, and sometimes
under a projecting rock, amusing himself by