After this escape, you may be quite certain Star Nose did not visit the huts of Musquash again. One day Star Nose poked his snout out of a runway of earth which he was raising, and soft white snow feathers came whirling down. He crept forth, and finally the little flakes were sprinkled thickly over his heavy fur coat. He enjoyed the snow although it cut off his food supply above ground. This fact did not worry him, for deep down below the frost line in the earth, grew a matted network of all kinds of succulent roots, some of them terminating in bunches of little, juicy ground nuts. The teeth of the mole were sharp and fine as needles, so all he had to do was to dig and then feast as he worked, which was pleasant, for he was always coming upon some unexpected dainty ahead of him. At last the snow fell; deep and soft it covered over the hill with a white, thick blanket. Yet beneath the blanket worked and travelled Star Nose. All winter long his trails ran just beneath the deep snow and in the spring, when the ground became bare once more, one is able to see all these blind trails for oneself. The first warm sun shone out at last. It was the beginning of the spring thaws; then the snow blanket upon the hill began to grow thinner each day. Already the great snowy owl had begun to think about a nest, and certain of the fur tribes had ventured to come out, at least upon sunny days, for they were terribly hungry after their long winter sleep. Right out upon the white snow crust finally crept Star Nose, the mole. At first the glare almost blinded him, he had stayed so long under ground; besides, he loved night best of all. However, he liked to feel the grateful sun warming his back, so there he lay, a soft, blind, stupid bunch of fur, out in plain sight upon the white snow. A long, slim figure, fur-clad, all in white, excepting the tip of its tail, which was brown, came mincing along, picking its way warily over the snow, craning its long neck and peering, first to this side then the other. Over the little snow hummocks it crept, its crafty yellow eyes searching everywhere for food. This was just Kagax, the weasel, wearing his winter coat of white fur, which did not show against the snow, and Kagax was glad, for he was very, very hungry. He spied the little grey heap of fur upon the snow, saw Star Nose huddled there, covering his blinded eyes from the glare, and instantly he pounced upon him, and carried him off. So this was the end, finally, of Star Nose, the cruel, crafty old hermit mole; such a fierce creature that even his own relatives feared him. And now his fine, secret chambers which he worked so long building, and all his subway passages are vacant, temporarily. But I dare say by spring some of the shrew family will move into his old home. CHAPTER IX THE LOYALTY OF SILVER WING, THE GULL