of 



once I decided to climb it and have a look over 

 the country and cloud from its swaying top. 



When half way up, the swift manner in which 

 the tree was tracing seismographic lines through 

 the air awakened my interest in the trunk that 

 was holding me. Was it sound or not? At the 

 foot appearances gave it good standing. The 

 exercising action of ordinary winds probably 

 toughens the wood fibres of young trees, but 

 this one was no longer young, and the wind was 

 high. I held an ear against the trunk and heard a 

 humming whisper which told only of soundness. 

 A blow with broad side of my belt axe told me 

 that it rang true and would stand the storm and 

 myself. 



The sound brought a spectator from a spruce 

 with broken top that stood almost within touch- 

 ing distance of me. In this tree was a squirrel 

 home, and my axe had brought the owner from 

 his hole. What an angry, comic midget he was, 

 this Fremont squirrel ! With fierce whiskers and 

 a rattling, choppy, jerky chatter, he came out 

 on a dead limb that pointed toward me, and 

 made a rush as though to annihilate me or to 



276 



