llings,
and from near by a cony "squee-eked" his quick alarm.

My reappearance reassured the marmot. He whistled again, and I thought
I distinguished a note of disgust or of disappointment.

This marmot lived on the south slope of the big moraine that shoulders
against Lady Washington, neighboring peak to the giant mountain, Long's
Peak. Sometimes I found the roly-poly fellow saving hay by eating it,
or asleep in the sun on an exposed rock. Often he ventured down into
the canyon at the foot of the moraine to investigate the grass that grew
down there.

One day as I sat atop the big moraine, I heard his shrill whistle from
the edge of the trees in the canyon below. It was somehow different
from any signal I had heard him give before, but just how it was
different I could not make out. The notes were the same, but the tone
was different--that was it, the tone had changed. Then the reason for
the difference came out of the scattered trees--a grizzly bear stalked
deliberately into the open and sat down facing the huge bowlder upon
which the marmot sat.

The marmot stood erect on his hind legs, eying the bear warily,
prepared to dash for his den beneath the rock the instant the visitor
made an unfriendly move. But the bear was a very stupid fellow; he
took no note of the marmot. Instead, he looked off across the canyon,
swung his head slowly to and fro as though thinking deeply of something
a hundred miles away. He was a young bear with a shiny new coat of
summer fur. He had just had a bath in the stream where ice water
gushed from beneath a snowbank.

The marmot gave a second whistle, carrying less fear. Apparently the
slow-moving, sleepy bear meant no harm. For half an hour the marmot
watched alertly, then slid down beneath the bowlders and started
eating. From time to time he sat stiffly erect, peering suspiciously
at the intruder. But since the bear made no overt move, he continued
his feeding as though he were too hungry to wait until his uninvited
guest departed.

At length the bear rolled over on his back with all four feet in the
air. The marmot surveyed the performance for a few seconds, then went
on feeding, gradually grazing out beyond the shelter of the rock
beneath which he had his den. The bear "paid him no mind," apparently
asleep in the sunshine. Slowly the marmot fed away from the rock, the
farther he ventured the more luxuriant his feast, for the grass was
eaten off short around his