William J. Long,
Wood-folk comedies
“ He grows silent as he examines the troublesome twig; then he rushes away as if he had made up what he calls his mind. In a few minutes, having left his mouthful at the cache, he reappears in the same path. He is silent now, and look! he is not running in his wonted breakneck fashion, but following his trail in an exploring kind of way. So he reaches the twig that hindered him, swears at it again, and cuts it with his teeth. Resting his chin between his forepaws, he follows the falling twig, his eyes shining, till it strikes the ground beside me, when he snickers his satisfaction. ”
