We reconnoitered, and found the water supply. We coaxed a tin basin away
from the cook and were fully equipped as far as a bathroom was
concerned.

Thea--for that was her Indian name--agreed that it might be well to
fasten our doors; so we dragged the decrepit dresser against the front
portal and moved a trunk across the back entrance. As there were no
shades at the windows, we undressed in the dark and retired.

The wind moaned in the pines. A querulous coyote complained. Strange
noises were everywhere around us. Scampering sounds echoed back and
forth in the cabin. My cot was hard and springless as a rock, and when I
stretched into a more comfortable position the end bar fell off and the
whole structure collapsed, I with it. Modesty vetoed a light, since the
men were still passing our cabin on their way to the tents; so in utter
darkness I pulled the mattress under the table and there made myself as
comfortable as possible. Just as I was dozing, Thea came in from the
kitchen bringing her cot bumping and banging at her heels. She was
utterly unnerved by rats and mice racing over her. We draped petticoats
and other articles of feminine apparel over the windows and sat up the
rest of the night over the smoky lamp. Wrapped in our bright blankets it
would have been difficult to tell which of us was the Indian.

"I'll get a cat tomorrow," I vowed.

"You can't. Cats aren't allowed in the Park," she returned, dejectedly.

"Well, then rats shouldn't be either," I snapped. "I can get some traps
I reckon. Or is trapping prohibited in this area?"

Thea just sighed.

Morning finally came, as mornings have a habit of doing, and found me
flinging things back in my trunk, while my companion eyed me
sardonic-wise. I had spent sufficient time in the great open spaces, and
just as soon as I could get some breakfast I was heading for Washington
again. But by the time I had tucked in a "feed" of fried potatoes, eggs,
hot cakes, and strong coffee, a lion couldn't have scared me away.
"Bring on your mice," was my battle cry.

At breakfast Ranger Fisk asked me quite seriously if I would have some
cackle berries. I looked around, couldn't see any sort of fruit on the
table, and, remembering the cook's injunction to eat what he set before
me, I answered: "No, thank you; but I'll have an egg, please." After
the laughter had subsided, White Mountain explained that cackle berries
were eggs!

I told the rangers about the mice in my house