hes, with drifts so
hard that we could walk on them. One drift was forty feet thick; it was
lodged against a brow, and down its face was trickling black water,
streaking it. This snow-bank away up here was the beginning of a river,
and helped make the lake.

We had spread out, with Apache still behind. Suddenly little Jed
called. "See the chickens?" he said.

We went over. Chirps were to be heard, and there among the drifts, on
the gravelly slope, were running and pecking and squatting a lot of
birds about like gray speckled Brahmas. They were as tame as speckled
Brahmas, too. They had red eyes and whitish tails.

"Ptarmigan!" exclaimed Fitz, and he began to take pictures. He got some
first-class ones.

Red Fox Scout Van Sant never made a move to shoot any of them. They were
so tame and barn-yardy. We were glad enough to let them live, away up
here among the snowdrifts, where they seemed to like to be. It was their
country, not ours--and they were plucky, to choose it. So we passed on.

The slope brought us up to a wide moraine, I guess you'd call it, where
great bowlders were heaped as thick as pebbles--bowlders and blocks as
large as cottages. These had not looked to be much, either, from below.

On the edge of them we halted, to look down and behind again. Now we
were much higher. The ledge was small and far, and the timber was small
and farther, and the world was beginning to lie flat like a map. On the
level with us were only a few other peaks, in the snowy Medicine Range.
The pass itself was so low that we could scarcely make it out.

To cross that bowlder moraine was a terrific job. We climbed and
sprawled, and were now up, now down. It was a go-as-you-please.
Everywhere among the bowlders were whistling rock-rabbits, or conies.
They were about the size of small guinea-pigs, and had short tails and
round, flat bat ears plastered close to their heads. They had their
mouths crammed full of dried grass, which they carried into their nests
through crannies--putting away hay for the winter! It was mighty
cheerful to have them so busy and greeting us, away up in these lonely
heights, and Fitz got some more good animal pictures.

Apache was in great distress. He couldn't navigate those bowlders. We
could hear him "hee-hawing" on the lower edge, and could see him staring
after us and racing frantically back and forth. But we must go on; we
would pick him up on our way down.

Well, we got over the bowlder field-