224 A PTARMIGAN DAY. 



Calculating the ordinary flight of the white 

 grouse, I had now reached the limit where it 

 was probable the pack might plump down, when, 

 raising my head from the scrutiny of a tempting 

 cairn, I saw the farther peaks enveloped in dense 

 mist, and at the rate it was driving onwards the 

 whole range would also in no time be engulfed, 

 making the solitary being on the blank mountain 

 nearly as helpless as the sons of Egypt amid the 

 thick darkness that "could be felt." 



Facing about, I sped before the grim pursuer 

 with the desperate haste of an Indian from a 

 jungle fire, and had just reached the trusty guid- 

 ance of a well-known watercourse, when suddenly 

 a slight breeze on my face gave token that the 

 wind had changed. Instead of rushing through 

 the hill-trough, the fog, arrested in mid course, 

 was rolled into blacker masses and slowly retreat- 

 ing, while blinks of sunlight regained possession of 

 the murky crags. 



Very soon the whole line of hills looked low 

 and blue as before, and the mist disappeared as 

 mysteriously as it arose. The lost ground was 

 quickly retraced, but I had scarcely reached the 



