ble in the damp hut, with
the blankets and sleigh robes that we had brought on the sleds.

Tired as we were, neither of us felt like falling asleep that night. It
was a dismal place. We wished ourselves at home. Judging by the
outcries, all the wild denizens of the wilderness were abroad. For a
long time we lay, whispering now and then, instead of speaking aloud. A
noise at the ox camp startled us, and, fearful lest one of the horses
had thrown himself, Addison went hastily to the door to listen. "Come
here," he whispered, in a strange tone.

I peeped forth over his shoulder, and was as much bewildered as he by
what I saw. Cloudy as was the night, glimpses of something white
appeared everywhere, going and coming, or flopping fitfully about. There
were odd sounds, too, as of soft footfalls, and now and then low,
petulant cries.

"What in the world are they?" Addison muttered.

Soon one of the mysterious white objects nearly bounced in at the door,
and we discovered it was a hare in its white winter coat. The whole
swamp was full of hares, all on the leap, going in one direction.

Seizing a pole, Addison knocked over three or four of them; still they
came by; there must have been hundreds, perhaps thousands of them, all
going one way.

At a distance we heard occasionally loud, sharp squealings, as of
distress, and presently a lynx that seemed to be on the roof of the ox
camp squalled hideously. Addison took the gun that we had brought, and
while the hares were still flopping past, tried to get a shot at the
lynx. But he was unable to make it out in the darkness, and it escaped.

I brought in one of the hares. I had an idea that we might add a bunch
of them to our load for Portland; but it and the others that we had
knocked over were too lank and light to be salable.

For an hour or more hares by the dozen continued to leap past the camp.
We repeatedly heard lynxes, or other beasts of prey, snarling at a
distance, as if following the mob of hares. Where all those hares came
from, or where they went, or why they were traveling by night, we never
knew. That is a question for naturalists. The next morning, when we went
out to look for witches' brooms, there was not a hare in sight, except
those that Addison had killed.

The witches' brooms were plentiful in the fir swamp along the stream;
and as they were usually high up in the tree tops and not easily reached
by climbing, we began to cut down such firs as had them.