TWO DIANAS IN ALASKA 213 



A small brown bird twittered ahead of me, always 

 keeping just in front, rising sometimes with a blithe 

 air of abandon to settle again on the stones before 

 me. He had a slender song, with a silvery ring about 

 it, not many notes, but very alluring and joyous. 



I put up a ptarmigan, then another, and another. 

 They flew off with a flurried whirr of wings and 

 chuckles of dismay, swooping down to the river bed 

 below. In summer the mottled coat of the Alaskan 

 ptarmigan blends with the rocks they love to sun 

 themselves upon, and in winter their snowy plumage 

 is one with the whitened landscape. 



A few stones rolled from beneath my feet, and 

 I waited in silent trepidation. The caribou was 

 apparently still ignorant of my proximity, though I 

 could not see the creature. We should not meet 

 until I had ringed the summit, but I should have 

 heard any attempt at breaking away. 



I reached the altitude which I judged would be the 

 required height, and next instant realized that my 

 plans were well laid indeed, for the cause of all my 

 trouble lay just below me, not more than fifty feet 

 away. I grew quite indifferent then. I knew that I 

 held the trump card. I stood upright, and prepared 

 for action. With a start my quarry awoke from 

 sound sleep. She was a graceful cow, with prettily 

 turned horns, though so small, and well-formed 

 shoulders. 



Turning round, paralyzed with sudden terror, she 

 faced me, her limbs rigid, her stiffened legs immov- 

 able. Never before have I seen deadly fear so 



