BUTTERFLIES OF MT. HOOD 159 



Scrambling to the top of the rock behind 

 which I was resting, and where I could get a sur- 

 vey all around, I saw that the peak was alive 

 with butterflies ; that they were flying past my 

 head, and off over the point out of sight around 

 the walls, to reappear far down in the crater, 

 across which they were cutting to my side where, 

 caught in the draft, they were pulled up the flue, 

 up and past my head again, off over the point 

 out of sight to reappear again, far down below, 

 for another turn with their toboggan on the slide 

 of the draft that drew up past us over the 

 summit. 



Not all of them were in the game; I caught 

 two as they sunned themselves on the rocks; 

 but that all had played, or would join the fun, 

 and that all had come up for that purpose, I 

 have no doubt. 



Yet my reader may have doubts. Then let him 

 explain the case. We are quite likely to over- 

 look the extent and seriousness of wild animal 

 play; not so much overlook it, perhaps, as fail to 

 see it, so self-conscious and on guard is all wild 

 life in the presence of a human watcher. Self-aban- 

 donment is a necessary condition of real play, and 



