CALLING THE MOOSE 31 



humor of Jupiter Pluvius. They seemed to fancy it 

 no more than do their enemies, the human bipeds. 



In my watching I observed some partridges hud- 

 dled under a big log, with feathers wet and all the 

 glory of their color and fluffy sleekness departed. 

 The cock bird looked woe-begone and cheap and 

 ragged a dripping, melancholy shadow and I thought 

 of the poet's lament : 



"Shades of the mighty can it be 

 That this is all remains of thee ? ' ' 



Once I started a deer from out a clump of young 

 pines where he had been sheltering himself. Again, I 

 came across an old doe standing under a couple of big 

 cedar trees, and after she had " lit out " I stepped 

 into her arbor and sat down. Although the rain was 

 falling in streams, yet none fell on me and I spent there 

 a couple of happy hours watching the capers of the only 

 living things that had the courage to brave the storm 

 the red squirrels. They w r ere busily occupied in 

 laying up their winter stores, which seemingly were to 

 consist of pine cones, as each had one of these in his 

 mouth. I noticed they took good care to run along 

 the ground under the logs, and not on top of them. 



We took the weather philosophically, because we 

 were w r ell prepared for it. We had plenty of dry 

 clothes, a big camp to shelter us, a roaring fire, an 

 abundance of the finest game in the world to eat, 

 clear, mineral-spring water to drink, good appetites, 



