ming wings fairly
exploding with energy.

One of the grouse alighted in a tree overhead and I snatched out the
six-shooter, aimed carefully and fired. It was a new experience for
the grouse; it stretched its head out, and, twisting sidewise, stared
down at me curiously. Once more I fired. The interest of the grouse
increased. Again and again I fired, pausing confidently after each
shot for the bird to tumble down. Three times I emptied the cylinder
without a hit. Then in disgust I shoved the gun back into its holster
and fumbled in the snow for a stone. The first throw was close, the
second hit its mark, and the bird came fluttering down.

The clouds dropped lower, enveloping my camp. The night was inky
black. I lay beneath my lean-to, watching the fire before which the
plump grouse was slowly turning round and round as it roasted. The
turning was accomplished by hooking a green twig into its neck and
tying the other end of the twig with a string that wound and unwound as
the bird alternated directions. I unloaded one of the revolver
cartridges and used the salty powder for seasoning my feast. I saved
some ammunition after all!

It was noon next day before I reached camp. Then the storm shut down
again. Snow began to accumulate. In the woods it lay knee deep, while
the high ridges above the timberline were swept bare by the howling
wind.

Quite unexpectedly, in the dead of night, I had a visitor. He was
uninvited, but was determined to make himself at home. Awakened by the
rattle of tin, I sat up, listened and waited. I struck a match and
caught a glimpse of a huge mountain rat disappearing in the darkness.
I had scarcely fallen asleep again before he returned, and when I
struck a light he stared at me with villainous, beady eyes. By the
uncertain light of a match I took aim with the faithless six-shooter
and fired. When I sprang up, expecting to find the mangled remains of
the intruder, I discovered a gaping hole in my only frying pan.

After an hour the pest came again, satisfied, no doubt, that my
marksmanship was not dangerous. This time I was prepared for his
coming. I had a lighted pine torch to see to aim by. I tried another
shot. The rat kept moving while in the open and only stopped when
behind shelter, peeping out with one eye. At last he left the tent,
and I followed him into the woods. Beneath the overhang of the cliff
he stopped, his piercing eyes flashing in the darkness as