234 THE ADVENTURES OF A NATURE GUIDE 



off most of their light brown summer clothes and 

 were dressed in almost pure white. 



The last three miles of the seven steep, winding 

 miles to the summit are entirely above the limits 

 of tree growth, among rocky crags and old snow- 

 fields, with most of the trail over either solid or 

 broken rock. 



On Boulderfield, five miles from our starting 

 point, we tied our ponies to rocks in the shelter of 

 large boulders and continued upward on foot. 

 Harriet was a sure-footed climber. As we started 

 across this mile stretch of glacial moraine I told her 

 that expert mountaineers travel slowly, always 

 look before making a step, and stop for talking or 

 looking around. Occasionally we rested, and some- 

 times we lay down upon a flat boulder and thor- 

 oughly relaxed. 



At about 13,000 feet, while we were thus resting, 

 there came a strange, chirpy squeak. Harriet 

 heard it repeated a number of times before asking 

 what it was. Presently a little animal resembling 

 a rabbit somewhat, but more nearly like a guinea 

 pig, ran in front of us, carrying in its mouth a few 

 blades of coarse grass and one or two tiny Arctic 

 plants. It was the mountain cony. 



"Was he squealing because something bit his 

 ears off?" Harriet asked. The cony's short ears 

 do appear as though clipped. 



I told her that the cony is called the "hay- 

 maker of the heights"; each autumn he gathers 



