WINTER IN THE NORTH 313 



excitement of the whole undertaking. Down in the 

 valleys are morning mists and darkness. The bottom 

 of that deep chasm you have left to the right, and 

 where you heard the harsh voice of the raven, is rilled 

 with billowy volumes of vapour ; but already, though 

 the sun will be invisible to you for half an hour to 

 come, the tops of the " Rocky Mountains " for which 

 you are bound are glowing in all the hues of the rain- 

 bow. When the sun does burst into sight, the dazzling 

 radiance of the landscape becomes almost painful, and 

 it is a relief to rest the aching eyes on the shadows 

 thrown here and there by some boldly projecting cliff. 

 There are animated objects enough of interest as you 

 press forward, though there is no time to loiter. The 

 grouse cocks rise wild with their cheery crow. Now 

 and again, as you climb by the banks of the stream, you 

 cross the tracks of the night-hunting otter or the wild 

 cat, or almost surprise those little parties of ducks that 

 have been feeding at their ease in some sequestered pool, 

 where the steepness of the fall has kept the hill burn in 

 motion. As the snow gets thinner, and you leave the 

 region of heather for the stones, the tracks of the moun- 

 tain-hares are more frequent, and soon they are starting 

 before you each twenty yards, sitting up, kangaroo-like, 

 in their quaint curiosity, and inspecting you with com- 

 placent interest over their shoulders. Considering the 

 impossibility of carrying them away, knocking them 

 over would be wanton bloodshed.. You would gladly 

 have bestowed a barrel on that magnificent hill-fox, 

 with the sinewy body and the feathering brush, who, 



