nd hindered by the accumulations of
loose soil. Evidently this weasel had foreseen just such an assault upon
his castle as I was making, and had planned it accordingly. He was not
to be caught napping. I found several enlargements in the various
tunnels, breathing spaces, or spaces to turn around in, or to meet and
chat with a companion, but nothing that looked like a terminus, a
permanent living-room. I tried removing the soil a couple of paces away
with the mattock, but found it slow work. I was getting warm and tired,
and my task was apparently only just begun. The farther I dug, the more
numerous and intricate became the passages. I concluded to stop, and
come again the next day, armed with a shovel in addition to the mattock.

Accordingly, I came back on the morrow, and fell to work vigorously. I
soon had quite a large excavation; I found the bank a labyrinth of
passages, with here and there a large chamber. One of the latter I
struck only six inches under the surface, by making a fresh breach a few
feet away.

While I was leaning upon my shovel-handle and recovering my breath, I
heard some light-footed creature tripping over the leaves above me just
out of view, which I fancied might be a squirrel. Presently I heard the
bay of a hound and the yelp of a cur, and then knew that a rabbit had
passed near me. The dogs came hurrying after, with a great rumpus, and
then presently the hunters followed. The dogs remained barking not many
rods south of me on the edge of the swamp, and I knew the rabbit had run
to hole. For half an hour or more I heard the hunters at work there,
digging their game out; then they came along and discovered me at my
work. They proved to be an old trapper and woodsman and his son. I told
them what I was in quest of. "A mountain weasel," said the old man.
"Seven or eight years ago I used to set deadfalls for rabbits just over
there, and the game was always partly eaten up. It must have been this
weasel that visited my traps." So my game was evidently an old resident
of the place. This swamp, maybe, had been his hunting-ground for many
years, and he had added another hall to his dwelling each year. After
further digging, I struck at least one of his banqueting halls, a cavity
about the size of one's hat, arched over by a network of fine
tree-roots. The occupant evidently lodged or rested here also. There was
a warm, dry nest, made of leaves and the fur of mice and moles. I took
out two or three h