PTARMIGANS. 197 
burning me with red-hot irons, and that showers of rot- 
ten wood filled my eyes, hair, and mouth. I struggled 
wildly to extricate myself from this improvised coffin, 
but the harder I struggled the more difficult I found it 
to clear myself from the debris, as every bit of the wood 
I touched gave way beneath my weight. I did, how- 
ever, succeed in getting out finally, but not until I had 
kicked the rotten wood about and under me into some- 
thing like a solid body by my floundering. When I got 
on my feet, I waltzed around in lively style, as I had to 
disrobe as rapidly as possible to shake off the debris and 
the innumerable ants with which it was filled, and which 
seemed to take delight in scalding me, until certain parts 
of my body looked as if I had the measles or the septents 
psoriasis. On finding myself clear of the insects, I re- 
turned campwards, cold in mind but fiery in feelings, 
especially in the legs, and did not go out again until the 
smartings of the cuticle had vanished. 
