1 88 In the United States vi 



" cussing things generally," can even hear the munch- 

 ings and the crunchings of the horses and the mules 

 as they pick up their rations of Indian corn. Then 

 the Gatta cry comes again — and, all of a sudden, 

 down on the white snow patch, pitch, all at once, 

 some fifty or sixty beautiful, sharp-tailed, creamy 

 willow grouse. Let us sit close under our cedars, 

 and hear them discourse. How they chatter and 

 gabble and lie ! True club men and club women, 

 every bird of them. We can almost understand what 

 they say. " Yes, she did ; I know she did. It wasn't 

 his fault. It was that woman. And the Dook said 

 ' Oh ! ' and it all came out — so young — ah ! dear me ! 

 so young ; and brazened it out, my dear, and they do 

 say. He ! he ! he ! ha ! ha ! ha ! How cold the snow 

 is to one's toes ! My dear, how well you're looking ! 

 Stupid old frump. Cackle ! cackle ! A-catcheri ! 

 A-catcheri ! " And up they all bounce with a whirr, 

 just as if the bell had rung for evening prayers, and 

 into the cedars they flounce, and sit there as meek 

 as maidens, pretending to be watching the sunset, 

 but in reality on the look-out for a chance of 

 making mischief. Then the patient and persistent 

 rifle gets that wicked old cock— I know him — as he 

 pokes and peers about, into line, and taking him end 

 on, in the neck, brings him to bag. And, at the 

 same moment, up bounds a white tail from the red 

 willow bed, almost at our feet, with his white flag 

 displayed, and jumps, jump after jump, till the little 

 Ballard catches him between the shoulders — and there 



