THE SPOTTED SKUNK 289 



piled up on the floor in a sort of hit-and-miss 

 fashion, and a lot of dry pelts were hanging on a 

 wire strung lengthwise beneath the ridgepole, 

 but we managed to find room to open up the 

 two spring cots which were offered us. Mr. 

 Eytel found a place at one side of the tent, but 

 the only place for me was in the center just 

 beneath the skins. But I did n't mind that; 

 they were dry and odorless and hung at least 

 six or eight inches above my head. 



"Late in the night I was awakened by feeling 

 some animal of fair size crawling over my sleep- 

 ing-bag. I couldn't imagine what it was, but 

 finally decided it might be a house cat belonging 

 to the trappers. As best I could in my tight 

 sleeping-bag I kicked about, hoping it would 

 leave me before long, when presently I caught 

 a little whiff of an odor that told me it was a 

 skunk. I called to Carl, hoping he could tell me 

 what to do to get rid of the animal. His only 

 answer, given in a whisper, was: 'Better keep 

 still.' So I did, and I am not ashamed to say 

 that for once I stuck my head under the blan- 

 kets. I was not going to risk my nose being 

 bitten by a skunk. 



