“What is it?” asked Ed; for he and George detected a delicious sweet-scented perfume mingled with that from the evergreens.
“Arbutus,” said Ben, dropping to his knee and pointing to small clusters of delicate pink-and-white flowers, which showed forth from a mass of green, rubber-like leaves. He pulled a few bunches of the blossoms and handed them to the boys to smell.
“Um, that’s fine!” they declared, as they buried their noses in the little bouquets and inhaled long breaths of exquisite perfume.
“What do you call it?” again inquired Ed, stooping and gathering more of the dainty plant.
“Arbutus, or mayflower,” said Ben, placing a tiny bunch of them in the band of his hat. “They’re my favorites.”
The guide told how this hardy little plant sometimes bloomed beneath a foot or more of snow. He said all woodsmen were partial to it, and eagerly looked for its flowers as the real harbingers of spring.
On all sides they beheld evidences of nature awakening from her long winter sleep. Ben drew their attention to these things, and explained just what was happening, and the reason for it. He showed them other delicate blossoms brought forth by the warm sunshine, while the woods themselves were bare; called to their notice the newly born or early awakened insects buzzing about in the sunny places, and made known the calls and names of feathered songsters returned from the South. They became so interested that they were at the maple grove before they knew it.
“Look over at that third tree to the right, on the upper side of the first limb,” cautioned the guide, quietly.
The lads looked where he told them to, but for several seconds they could discern nothing out of the ordinary. All that time Ben stood watching them closely, the faintest trace of a smile on his face.
“I see it!” cried Ed, finally. “It’s a red squirrel, and he’s lying flat along the top of the branch.”