PHOBY-CATS 17 
‘“Whereabouts is he? Which way did he go?’’ we 
shouted. 
Brown, instead of answering, rubbed his eyes and 
looked sheepishly about him. He seemed to be com- 
ing slowly out of a daze. 
‘‘Doggone it,’’ he ejaculated, at last, ‘‘I reckon 
there wan’t none. This yere arm of mine done gone 
to sleep an’ when I woke up dreamin’ trouble and 
felt it lyin’ under me and smelt that there skunk 
I shore thought my arm was bit.’’ 
We had ‘‘the edge’’ on Brown and were not loath 
to take advantage of it. There was considerable 
laughter at the packer’s expense, in the midst of 
which he retreated into his tent. 
Then we began to wonder where Bert and Moak 
were. We found them deep in their blankets- with 
tarps pulled over their heads. They pretended to 
be asleep but the pretence was hardly convincing. 
The real skunk, whose proximity no one doubted, 
did not annoy us that night but a few evenings there- 
after he entered the camp precincts, doubtless to 
forage at the garbage hole, and was oddly enough 
chased into Brown’s tent by one of the dogs and 
killed upon the packer’s bed. For some days there- 
after both bed and dog were deservedly unpopular. 
As Frazer put it, after suffering foraday: ‘‘ I’ve 
heard of animals dying game; but that skunk died 
‘gamier’ than anything I ever knew of.’’ 
We finally forgave him—F razer, that is! 
: t Sie Ab 
boo ea whe Ay 
