But the cony making the tracks which I followed had left the place and proceeded as though he knew just where he was going. He had not hesitated, stopped, nor turned to look back. Where was he bound for? I left the wreckage to follow his tracks.
Up over a ridge the tracks led, then down a slope to the place where I had discovered them, then to the left along a terrace a quarter of a mile farther. Here they disappeared beneath huge rocks.
In searching for the tracks beyond I came in view of a tiny cony haystack back in a cave-like place formed among the rocks. By this was the entrance to a cony den. In the thin layer of snow were numerous cony tracks. To this entrance I traced the cony.
As I stooped, examining things beneath, I heard a cony call above. Edging out of the entrance I saw two conies. They were sitting on the same rock in the sunshine. One probably was the owner of the little haystack—the other the cony from the wrecked home.
CHAPTER III
INTRODUCING MR. AND MRS. SKUNK
A skunk expects the other fellow to do the running. Not having much practice he does not have any high speed and puts much awkward effort and action into all speeding.
One September day a skunk came into the grove where I was watching, and stopping by an old log did a little digging. While eating grubs he was disturbed by a falling pine cone. The cone was light, but had a few spots of soft pitch upon it. It stuck to his tail. Greatly disturbed, the skunk thrashed and floundered about until he shook the cone off.
A busy squirrel was harvesting and paying no attention to where his cones were falling. Down came another cone. This landed not behind the skunk but in front. Already troubled, the skunk stuck his tail straight up and struck an attitude of defense.