QUIZ; A KANGAROO RAT. 



H, A. THOMPSON. 



"Quiz has been at it again !" 



Jack was speaking. His tone expressed 

 volumes. Quiz was a kangaroo rat which 

 had made its home in the chinks of rock 

 behind our cupboard. The "it" which he 

 was "at again" was indiscriminate, wanton 

 and often destructive theft of our belong- 

 ings. This time the portion of our posses- 

 sions which had attracted the long-fingered 

 rodent was a box of quills of gold dust. 

 The quills, containing the product of sev- 

 eral weeks' labor on a placer claim in the 

 vicinity, had been placed by Jack in a 

 cigar box on a shelf in our cupboard. 



Jack was engaged in mining; I in con- 

 valescing, assisted by the pure air and de- 

 lightful weather of an Arizona autumn, 

 from a severe attack of typhoid. The men 

 of pills and bottles had shipped me to the 

 foothills to camp with Jack and sundry 

 tonics. Our tent was pitched where a low 

 sandstone butte changed the course of a 

 dry, sandy arroyo. A perpendicular wall 

 of rock, at this angle, had been honey- 

 combed by the flood-season torrents into 

 a series of cavites of verying sizes. In 

 these niches we had deposited our food 

 supplies, utensils and lighter camp equi- 

 page, tor we had discovered that the ants 

 kept away from this rock. Why was a 

 mystery. 



But immunity from invasion by ants 

 caused us to enter, unwittingly, the do- 

 main of an even more dangerous enemy. 

 He stole- our sugar, scattering what he 

 could not eat. He tore open sacks of dried 

 fruit, beans and flour, and distributed the 

 debris about the recesses in the wall. Ed- 

 ibles encased in wood were insecure ; that 

 rat could gnaw through an ordinary box 

 in a short time. On one of Jack's trips to 

 the nearest settlement he obtained a num- 

 ber of cans with screw tops. These shut 

 out our tormentor from such groceries as 

 could be placed within metal walls, but 

 those not so protected were still stolen. 

 The little scamp turned his attention to 

 toilet articles, carrying off toothbrushes 

 and combs, chewing the bristles of hair 

 brushes, etc. The absorbing question of 

 camp became, "What will he do next?" 

 From this constant presentation of a diffi- 

 cult problem we called him Quiz. 



The climax was reached when Jack dis- 

 covered a hole in the cigar box and certi- 

 fied the absence of several pennyweights of 

 gold. It was then he made the remark 

 which begins this history, and other re- 

 marks, recorded, I fear, more permanently. 



A crevice at the back of one of the niches 

 was defended with the usual pile of cholla 

 cactus balls. My partner poked a stick 

 down this crack and got his hand full of 

 barbed spines for his pains. Then he made 

 more remarks. 



"I don't see what in that rascal 



wanted with gold !" he growled, pulling 

 the stinging needles out of the injured 

 hand. "He can't eat it. I wish he could; 

 it would probably kill him. I wonder 

 where he has taken those quills?" 



"Probably where he took those spoons, 

 your scarfpin, and my toothbrush," I re- 



183 



THERE WAS A HOLE THROUGH OUR BEST CAMP 

 KETTLE. 



plied. "The only way you can get at the 

 hiding place of the miscreant is by blowing 

 up the whole cliff, with the chances in 

 favor of blowing up the gold, too." 



"Well," remarked Jack, decisively, "Quiz 

 must die. I work all day, while you loaf 

 and read, so you can stay here and shoot 

 him if he shows his thieving head out of 

 the rocks." 



At first thought it would seem easy to 

 carry out these instructions, since there 

 were several 6-shooters and a shot gun in 

 camp; but Quiz seldom showed himself, 

 and a scatter gun w.auld play havoc with 



