The White Goat and his Country 
time before us still. Next morning we waked 
in midwinter, the flakes flying thick and fu- 
rious over a park that was no longer a pas- 
ture, but a blind drift of snow. We lived 
in camp, perfectly comfortable. Down at 
the Forks I had had made a rough imitation 
of a Sibley stove. All that its forger had to 
go on was my unprofessional and inexpert 
description, and a lame sketch in pencil; but 
he succeeded so well that the hollow iron 
cone and joints of pipe he fitted together 
turned out most efficient. The sight of the 
apparatus packed on a horse with the panniers 
was whimsical, and until he saw it work I 
know that T despised it. After that, it 
commanded his respect. All this stormy day 
it roared and blazed, and sent a lusty heat 
throughout the tent. T cleaned the two 
goat-heads, and talked Shakspere and Thack- 
eray to me, (ble quoted’ Henry the Fourth, 
and regretted that Thackeray had not more 
developed the character of George Warring- 
ton. Warrington was the maz in the book. 
When night came the storm was gone. 
By eight the next morning we had sighted 
another large solitary billy. But he had seen 
51 
