PTARMIGANS. 
I63 
“ What a wish for Mrs. Maxwell ! ” exclaimed 
Mr. H . “ Jerusha crickets! she wouldn’t 
more than get down there before she would be 
seizing some of that lightning, and jabbing it 
down among the clouds, to see if she couldn’t 
kill the monster that roars so, and secure a speci- 
men of thunder to stuff! ” 
The spell was broken. Mr. H— — -’s idea was 
so absurd that, with a laugh, they turned from 
contemplating the storm to the execution of their 
business there — the securing of ptarmigans and 
little chief hares. The latter are commonly 
called conies, and are found only on the barren 
wastes above timber-line. Having no foliage 
under which to hide, nature kindly protects the 
creatures who know no other home than those 
heights, by dressing them in colors that harmon- 
ize so perfectly with their surroundings, that it 
is almost impossible to see them when silent or 
at rest. The little hares, creatures about as big 
as two-thirds of a rat, minus the tail, make a 
shrill, chirping noise, which at first would be 
mistaken for the note of some bird or insect. 
They burrow under the rocks, and the openings 
of their holes are usually surrounded by quanti- 
ties of grass, which they have either removed 
from their nests, or are curing for use in winter. 
Much of their time in summer is spent in lay- 
ing in supplies, and in sunning themselves on 
