The snows of twenty winters have fallen in the forest since Bige and I put Muskrat City on the map, and since we built the camp on the hillside above it. Other trappers have followed Bige's trail through the woods and have taken their toll of the inhabitants. But I am confident that if a census were taken today, it would be found that in population Muskrat City is holding its own quite equal to some of the cities in Iowa. Doubtless it is a wise provision of Nature that those animals, birds and fishes which are most killed and eaten by others are made most prolific. Such thinning of their ranks may be necessary to avert famine, disease or some worse disaster among them. In view of their many predatory enemies, not forgetting the human killer of fish, it is marvelous that any trout of legal size are found in a brook. Noises of the forest night are always interesting. While the camp fire burns, the forest people in its immediate vicinity are generally quiet. The fire is an unusual experience for them. It attracts them. They are fascinated by it, as are small boys by a circus, and while it burns they are likely to suspend their usual occupations and watch the flare and flicker of the blaze and the weird shadows it casts. Many of the less timid may approach quite near, others more wary will circle quietly and cautiously about at a considerable distance but always in view of the fire. If there should happen to be a light fall of snow on the ground the tracks visible in the snow in the morning will disclose the names of the visitors at the camp fire.