FOLLOWING A LOST TRAIL . 
53 
this frowning barrier, alone sustained our hopes 
of finding a pass which could be opened to 
wheels. 
My watch said that it was 10.30 a. m. As 
we had begun our first meal at four A. M., a 
second one seemed appropriate; so in the face 
of our frowning crisis we lay upon the moss 
and made way with the larger part of our knap¬ 
sack’s contents. A red squirrel, inquisitive, 
petulant Chickaree, came down from the ridge 
and chattered to us. Far above in the tree- 
tops two birds called loudly to each other. 
Their notes were new to me, and so shy were 
they that I secured only a distant glimpse of 
them through my glass. They seemed to prefer 
the highest tips of dead trees, from which they 
darted now and then into the air after insects. 
It did not require much knowledge of birds to 
assign this noisy couple to the family of the 
tyrant flycatchers, and their size was so great as 
to make them one of three species, — kingbirds, 
great crested flycatchers, or olive-sided flycatch¬ 
ers. As I knew the first two well, from daily 
chances to watch their habits, I felt practically 
certain that these keepers of the pass were the 
wild, wayward, and noisy olive-sided flycatchers 
of which I had heard so often, but never before 
met on their breeding-grounds. Luncheon over, 
we faced the barrier, and, selecting a shallow 
