A MYSTERIOUS WHISTLER. 323 
tion grew the Douglas pine and ponderous cedar 
(Tha gigantea). Here the ascent was easy 
enough, but on reaching a greater altitude, the 
climbing became anything but. a joke. 
We at last reached a level plateau near the 
summit, and lay down on the soft mossy grass, 
neara stream that came trickling down from the 
melting snow. 
Close to my couch was a talus of broken 
granite, that Old Time and the Frost King between 
them had crumbled away from a mass of rocks 
above. As I contemplated this heap of rocks, a 
cry like a plaintive whistle suddenly attracted 
my attention; it evidently came from amongst 
the stones. I listened and kept quiet. Again 
and again came the whistle, but nowhere could 
I see the whistler. A slight movement at leneth 
betrayed him, and I could clearly make out a 
little animal sitting bolt upright, like a beggine- 
dog, his seat a flat stone in the middle of the heap. 
[had a load of small-shot in one barrel, in- 
tended for ptarmigan; raising my gun slowly 
and cautiously tomy shoulder, I fired as I lay on 
the ground, The sharp ringing crack as I touched 
the trigger—the first, perhaps, that had ever 
awoke the echoes of the mountain—was the 
death-knell of the poor little musician. 
x 2 
