AND OTHER HUNTING ADVENTURES. 133 



a surface, with a little grass and a few weeds. It 

 was very steep, I think about what an architect 

 would call a three-quarter pitch, but we essayed it 

 boMly and fearlessly. Seymour was in the lead, 

 his faithful partisan, John, followed, and I consti- 

 tuted the tail end of the procession. We had just 

 got well over the brow, when the end of a dry hem- 

 lock stick caught in the mansard roof of my left foot; 

 the other end was fast in the ground, and, though I 

 tried to free myself, both ends stuck; the stick 

 played a lone hand, but it raised me clear out in 

 spite pf my struggles. I uttered a mournful groan 

 as I saw myself going, but was as helpless as a ten- 

 derfoot on a bucking cayuse. My foot was lifted 

 till my heel punched the small of my back, and my 

 other foot slid out from under me; I spread out like 

 a step ladder, and clawed the air for succor, but 

 there was not a bush or branch within reach. I think 

 I went ten feet before I touched the earth again, and 

 then I landed head first among John's legs. He sat 

 down on the back of my neck like a trip-hammer,, 

 and we both assaulted Seymour in the rear with 

 such violence as to knock him clear out. For a few 

 seconds we were the worst mixed up community that 

 ever lived, I reckon. Arms, legs, guns, hats, packs, 

 and human forms were mingled in one writhing, 

 squirming, surging mass, and groans, shouts, and 

 imprecations, in English, Chinook, and Scowlitz, rent 

 the air. Every hand was grabbing for something to 

 stop its owner, but there were no friendly stoppers 

 within reach; if one caught a weed, or a stunted 

 juniper, it faded away from his herculean grasp like 

 dry grass before a prairie fire. I seemed to have the 



