A Try for Ptarmigan 237 



the landscape was absolutely terrifying. Under 

 such a downfall a trail would not show for a min- 

 ute. 



" Come quick ! " said Joe, as he turned, and 

 the gleam of his wild eyes was a solemn warning. 



I have run in a snow-shoe steeplechase over 

 rough country, have staggered home cooked to 

 a turn after one of those desperate efforts which 

 fool men will make for a pewter mug, a cheer, and 

 some woman's smile. I have been "butchered 

 to make a Roman holiday " on sliding seat, steel 

 blades, spiked shoon, and other modern refine- 

 ments, while shrill voices rang and dainty thumbs 

 turned down (they all despise a loser); I have 

 been guilty of that crime of blunders, getting into 

 the " gym " arena with the wrong man ; but of all 

 the bucketings ever I got, Joe gave me the worst ! 

 Peace be to his ashes he was a scared Indian, 

 and he had no better sense. 



Only those who have chased a smoke-tanned 

 fire-water worshipper on snow-shoes about two 

 jumps ahead of a blizzard can understand. I 

 knew that he knew the trail, and I vowed that if 

 he lost me it was my fault. All I could see was 

 his dim back rising and falling in mighty effort 

 then we ran for it in dead earnest. No picking 

 of path no anything but chase chase chase. 

 He never hesitated nor slackened, and all the 

 while the snow thickened and the wind shouted 



