PTARMIGANS. 195 
seemed to us as if Boreas were practising on a gigantic 
cornet, and after a little investigation we found we were 
right in our surmises, the cornet being nothing less than 
the chasm in our vicinity. These trumpeting precipices 
are quite familiar to those who have frequented high 
mountains in the West, but the best known is a ravine 
in the Cascade Range, which is said to be a natural Ao- 
lian harp, and superior to the one in the Hartz Moun- 
tains, in Germany. The gale subsided about midnight, 
and we fell asleep. The energetic member of the party 
was up before daylight, and after building a fire he com- 
menced routing the others, tumbling Jabe on the floor. 
Seeing that resistance would be useless, Jabe dressed 
himself, by merely putting on his boots and hat, and 
then calmly said that some men were meaner than ‘‘ yal- 
ler dogs.” Without waiting for an answer to this, he 
started for the mountain with the camp-kettle, filled it 
with hard-pressed snow, and having hung it over the ex- 
temporized crane, made of cross-sticks, he commenced 
rubbing the guns, which had been freely washed with 
vaseline the previous evening. By the time he had fin- 
ished this work, breakfast was announced, and we were 
soon doing justice to roast ptarmigan and fried pork, 
and some excellent coffee, which had never known adul- 
teration. When the repast was over we started for the 
chasm, but we had not proceeded far before a heavy fog 
arose and covered everything with such an impenetrable 
pall that we could not see ten paces ahead of us. It was 
therefore decided to return to camp for the day, or until 
the mist cleared away, but we found it no easy matter to 
do this, for the fog was deepening so rapidly that we had 
to stoop close to the ground to track our own footsteps. 
We remained in camp all day, but were out early the 
next morning, and at work in a chasm by seven o’clock. 
We shot birds and examined the country in that region 
for four days, and then started homeward, disappointed 
