December Twenty-second
What tracks are these, trailing along the fence between a brush-lot and a buckwheat field? At the corner of the fence human footprints and those of a dog join them. All now travel in the same direction, first on one side of the fence, then on the other. Finally the bird tracks stop abruptly and the marks of wings on each side of them show that the birds have taken flight. The dog has suddenly bolted, and where his tracks turn back is a dash in the snow and a few quail feathers which tell the story; a hunter has bagged his game.