I got
up into the crotch of a great birch near one of 'em, and sat there
with my rifle, waitin' for something to turn up. It was a little after
noon when I got located. The sun travelled slowly along down towards
the western hills, his bright light, in that calm November day, makin'
the rocky ranges and the bare heads of the tall peaks shine out in a
blaze of glory. The livin' things of the old woods were busy and jolly
enough. An old owl came flying lazily out of the thick branches of a
hemlock, and lightin' within a dozen feet of me, opened his great
round eyes in astonishment, and as the bright sunlight dazzled him, he
squinted and turned his cat-like face from side to side, as if makin'
up his mind that he'd know me the next time we met. By-and-by he
opened his hooked beak, and great red mouth, and roared out, 'Hoo!
hohoo! hoo!' as much as to say, 'who the devil are you?' I didn't
answer a word, and after a little, he flew back to his shadowy perch
among the dense foliage of the hemlock. A black squirrel came hopping
along with his mouth full of beech nuts, and running nimbly up the
tree on which I was perched, and out upon one of the great limbs,
deposited his store in a hollow he found there. He caught sight of me
as he came back, and seating himself upon a branch, not six feet from
my head, began chatterin' and barkin' as if givin' me a regular lecter
for invadin' his premises, and takin' possession of his tree.
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