PTARMIGANS. 



197 



burning me with red-liot irons, and that showers of rot- 

 ten wood filled my eyes, hair, and mouth. I struggled 

 wildly to extricate myself from this improvised coffin, 

 but the harder I struggled the more difficult I found it 

 to clear myself from the debris, as every bit of the wood 

 I touched gave way beneath my weight. I did, how- 

 ever, succeed in getting out finally, but not until I had 

 kicked the rotten wood about and under me into some- 

 thing like a solid body by my floundering. When I got 

 on my feet, I waltzed around in lively style, as I had to 

 disrobe as rapidly as possible to shake off the debris and 

 the innumerable ants with which it was filled, and which 

 seemed to take delight in scalding me, until certain parts 

 of my body looked as if I had the measles or the septenis 

 psoriasis. On finding myself clear of the insects, I re- 

 turned campwards, cold in mind but fiery m feelings, 

 especially in the legs, and did not go out again until the 

 smartings of the cuticle had vanished. 



