132 TWO DIANAS IN ALASKA 



meant to remain. Rambling on down a path through 

 the alder scrub, a lonely track of dwellers in the wild, 

 I strode right into the midst of a fluffy band of cheep- 

 ing yellow chickens. To the right and left they 

 scattered, and at my boot in a flash came the gallant 

 little mother, making a reconnaissance in force until 

 the helpless chickens found safety, her tiny eyes 

 aflame with anger, feathers ruffled up, hissing defi- 

 ance at me. Brave little hen ! Again and again my 

 small foe returned to the attack, pecking my boots, 

 screaming in furious chuckles her commands to me 

 to begone. I could not help smiling at her tactics, 

 they were so obvious, even whilst I loved the small 

 thing's courage and forgetfulness of self. I ran 

 backwards, and with a whirr of wings the ptarmigan 

 flew off into a patch of salmon berry bushes. 



Cheep ! Cheep ! I crept warily along, and there, 

 ever and again, in and out the sanctuary of cover, I 

 caught glimpses of my tiny enemy collecting her 

 babies beneath shelterings wings. 



Down-stream again, and all suddenly the atmo- 

 sphere changed to a muggy dampness which clung 

 to our coats in dew-like moisture. And as the light 

 bidarka sped over the shallows of the gently-rushing 

 river, the whole air in the vicinity of the banks be- 

 came like passing through the finest of fine gauze. 

 Hair, eyes, all of us was enveloped in the silken 

 mesh. Our protesting fingers broke through a maze 

 of interlacing webs. 



Myriads of tiny red spiders were entangled in the 

 gossamer, and all the atmosphere was thick with the 



