CHAPTER XII 



THE " CONY 



WHE were threading our slow way along the 

 narrow divide of the Wallowa Mountains 

 that runs between the branches of the 

 Snake River. Our guide was a former " camp-ten- 

 I der," one who carries provisions to the sheep-herders 

 in the mountains. As we were stopping a moment to 

 breathe our horses and to look down upon the head 

 springs of Big Sheep and Salt Lick Creeks on one 

 side, and the narrow ribbon of the Imnaha on the 

 other, this guide and our mammal-collector rode on 

 ahead. An hour later I saw them round the breast i 

 of a peak far along on the trail and disappear. That | 

 night they brought into camp a "cony," or pika, or ; 

 little chief hare. 



The year before, this camp-tender, in passing a 

 certain rock-slide among the high peaks of the pass, 

 had heard and seen a peculiar little animal about the 

 size and shape of a small guinea-pig, whistling among 

 the broken rock. He had never seen the little creature ? 

 before, had never heard of it. It was to this slide 

 that he now took our naturalist, in the hope of show- 

 ing him the mountain guinea-pig, and, sure enough, 

 they brought one back with them, and showed me 



