settled in a big, old sycamore that sits just up and off the path. lolly must carry herself with a certain amount of menace, because that squirrel left the better part of its hedge-apple breakfast behind. if that squirrel only knew, it would have blown a raspberry and kept right on breaking its fast. off we went, then, along the path some more and across the bridge and skirting the edge of the quarry, covered in a blanket of white with hardly a mark on it. just the tracks of that rabbit i mentioned earlier. we could hear the occasional bird, but they were keeping their heads down; down and 