STEEP TRAILS 



plenished my fire — sometimes without leaving 

 the nest, for fire and woodpile were so near 

 this could easily be done — or busied myself 

 with my notebook, watching the gestures of the 

 trees in taking the snow, examining separate 

 crystals under a lens, and learning the methods 

 of their deposition as an enduring fountain for 

 the streams. Several times, when the storm 

 ceased for a few minutes, a Douglas squirrel 

 came frisking from the foot of a clump of 

 dwarf pines, moving in sudden interrupted 

 spurts over the bossy snow; then, without any 

 apparent guidance, he would dig rapidly into 

 the drift where were buried some grains of 

 barley that the horses had left. The Douglas 

 squirrel does not strictly belong to these upper 

 woods, and I was surprised to see him out in 

 such weather. The mountain sheep also, quite 

 a large flock of them, came to my camp and 

 took shelter beside a clump of matted dwarf 

 pines a little above my nest. 



The storm lasted about a week, but before 

 it was ended Sisson became alarmed and sent 

 up the guide with animals to see what had be- 

 come of me and recover the camp outfit. The 

 news spread that "there was a man on the 

 mountain," and he must surely have perished, 

 and Sisson was blamed for allowing any one to 

 attempt climbing in such weather; while I was 



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