HARRIET— LITTLE MOUNTAIN CLIMBER 233 



At timberline, 11,000 feet above sea level, all 

 of the trees were small; yet they did not look like 

 young trees, but appeared aged, storm-beaten, 

 and strange. Many of them really were hundreds 

 of years old, yet so tiny that Harriet could reach 

 to the top of them. Many were not so tall as she. 



"My doll would like to climb them but they are 

 too small for me to climb," she said. 



We tied our ponies and 1 ambled along this 

 strange edge of the forest. There were pines, firs, 

 spruces, dwarfed birch and aspen, and Arctic willow. 



"Why," Harriet asked, "do these little people 

 live up here on the cold mountain-side?" 



Magpies, camp-birds, and Clarke's nutcrackers 

 were numerous, having a nutting picnic. All were 

 having great fun, but the nutcrackers were getting 

 most of the nuts, pecking holes in the pine cones, and 

 busily eating the large, almost ripened fruit, and 

 calling noisily. One of the camp-birds alighted 

 upon Harriet's shoulder, curious to know if she had 

 something for him to eat. They are perhaps the 

 most sociable and the best-known birds in the west- 

 ern mountains. 



About nine o'clock the sun came out and the 

 snow began to melt. The remainder of the day 

 was calm and warm. No air stirred. On the 

 Arctic moorlands above the timber line we watched 

 carefully, hoping to see the Bighorn. We did not 

 see even the track of one. But we came upon a 

 flock of ptarmigan. These birds had already laid 



