THE SMALL NEIGHBORS OF BIG GAME 297 



of Country Life, lay the little squeaker's hay pile, freshly 

 cut, and in quantity a double handful. It contained no 

 grass, — just weed-like plants, with thick stems and large 

 leaves. About one-half the bunch consisted of squaw- 

 root {Senecio triangularis) ^ the root of which makes a 

 good spring salad that is much in favor with both white 

 men and Indians. There was a good showing of the same 

 pasque flower (Pulsatilla occidentalis) which the moun- 

 tain goat loves. Of a plant from the Saxifrage Family, 

 there was what chemists call a " trace," and that was all. 



I set to work to follow up the rock burrow of our 

 Pika by removing stones ; but the task was not successful. 

 Underneath the big chunk of slide-rock on which the 

 hay-pile lay drying, I found more fodder of the same 

 kind, almost dry enough to store away. It had been 

 drawn under the rock so that the elements could not sweep 

 it away, and a little later would have been carried farther 

 in. But I could not reach the end of the home burrow. 

 Cavities ran in several directions, and the more stones I 

 pulled out, the more I lost the trail. Finally I gave it 

 up, and contented myself with bringing away some speci- 

 mens from the collection of the small creature who knows 

 not only to make hay when the sun shines, but also where 

 it shines. 



From first to last, I think I saw half a dozen Pikas, 

 and heard twenty crying from the safe depths of the 

 slide-rock. Naturally, they live where the rock has fallen 

 in large blocks, furnishing crevices and runways large 

 enough for them, but too small for the marten or wolver- 

 ine. I think the bears do not trouble them, — which must 



