Solitude and Company 185 



. The oddest little fighter I ever met was 

 a mouse. On a chill, windy autumn even- 

 ing I stood on Mount Willard, looking 

 down into the White Mountain Notch, 

 absurd name for that stupendous chasm, 

 and absorbed in a view that has few equals, 

 even in our land of wonders. Red lights 

 played along the avalanches of Webster, 

 Chocorua's alp was thrust into a remote, 

 pale sky, the vast, dark bulk of the Presi- 

 dential range arose out of the forest across 

 the valley, and sheets of cloud, edged with 

 fire, unrolled above the head of fatal 

 Willey. The scene was stern, immense ; 

 yet, of a sudden, a mouse distracted atten- 

 tion from it. He ran out from the bushes, 

 perhaps in chase of something, and nearly 

 bumped into my feet On being driven 

 into a rocky triangle and cornered there 

 he exhibited a rage that was impish. He 

 danced on his hind legs, made rushes at 

 me, snapped his teeth viciously, and was 

 altogether surprising. For this exhibition 

 I rewarded him with a piece of bread and 

 left him to regain his calm. 



It is wondrous easy to get acquainted 



