We killed another marten and some squirrels, and were returning home just at sundown, when we met Uncle Mark, who had followed our trail--no difficult thing to do over the snow, even for a white man.  He had just before caught sight of an opossum, which had escaped him.  It had evidently paid a visit to our poultry-yard a short time previously, and having succeeded in carrying off one of the inhabitants, was making its way with its prey to its mate or hungry family when Uncle Mark overtook it.  He had knocked it over with his stick, and supposed it dying or dead, as it lay with open mouth, extended tongue, and dim eyes.  At that moment he had caught sight of a marten or some other animal moving through the forest.  The creature thereupon proved that it was only "'possuming;" for the instant his eye was withdrawn it sprang up, and set off at a rate which showed that its powers of locomotion, at least, had not been impaired by the blows it had received.