during the winter, and you can see that it's almost like the fur on the otter, the beaver, or the muskrat. It must keep out the cold in great shape."

"I declare," said Jack, "I never saw that on a horse before. I did see it once on an elk that we killed in the spring; I think it was the first year I came out here, when I hunted with John Munroe. I have seen this same kind of fur on a St. Bernard dog, too; the animals that the monks keep up on the tops of the mountains in Switzerland, away up above timber line, and that they use in winter to look for people who get lost in the snow in the mountains. They have just that kind of double coat, with long hair on the outside and a sort of fur underneath, next to the skin."

"Yes," said Hugh, "I guess all animals that live in cold climates get that same kind of coat."

While he was speaking, the horn blew, and Jack took Pawnee to the barn and tied him up, and then he and Hugh went in to breakfast.

"Well, Jack," said Mr. Sturgis, as they sat at the table, "have you and Hugh had a consultation yet over what you are going to do?"

"Not yet, Uncle George," said Jack; "but I guess we will during the day, and we will be able to tell you to-night what our decision is."

"This snow will melt right away, and the grass has started enough for you to go off on your trip any time now," said Mr. Sturgis.

"And I suppose," said Jack, "if we are going off, the sooner we get started the better. Isn't that so, Hugh?"

"I reckon it is, son; and if we're going to try to get any fur of any kind, the sooner we start the better the fur will be. It won't be long now before the animals begin to shed. Of course, a bear hide is good till well into June, and the higher up the animal lives, the longer the coat stays good. Why, in old times, we used to trap all through the summer, but, of course, if we caught fur low down on the prairie it did not bring us the price that prime pelts brought."

"Well," said Mr. Sturgis, "make up your minds what you want to do, and report to me to-night."

"All right, sir," said Hugh, and he and Jack went down toward the barn.

"What are you going to do to-day, Hugh?" said Jack.

"Why," said Hugh, "Mrs. Carter said that they were all out of fresh meat, and I thought I'd go off and see if I could kill a buck antelope. That's about all that's fit to kill now. Of course, we might go up on the mountain and hunt around, and perhaps find a mountain sheep, but I don't go much on sheep meat at this time of the year."

"Why, how's that, Hugh? I thought sheep meat was the best meat there was, except, perhaps, buffalo meat."

"Ever eat any in spring time?" said Hugh.

"No, of course I never did. I guess you've always been with me when I've eaten sheep meat, and you and I have never killed a sheep in the spring."

"Well," said Hugh, "if you kill a sheep now you'll find its meat tastes and smells so strong of garlic that perhaps you'd not care to eat it. I've eaten a good many queer things, but I'd never eat sheep meat in the spring; that is, for choice."

"Why is that, Hugh?" said Jack.

"I'll tell you," replied Hugh. "About the first green thing that springs up in these mountains is the wild leek, and the sheep, hungering for something green, hunt this up and eat it whenever they find it. The result is, that they taste of it, strong. Didn't you ever hear of that before?"

"No, indeed," replied Jack; "that's news to me. I do believe, though, that once in a while when I have been in the country in the spring the milk of the cows has tasted of garlic or onions, and they told me it was because they had been eating the wild leek."

"That's straight enough," replied Hugh. "I have drunk cow's milk in spring, out in this country, that tasted strong of sage. Now, you know well enough, without my telling you, that the meat of the sage hen tastes strong of sage, because they feed on it all the time, and didn't Mr. Fannin tell us last year that the hogs and chickens that fed on the dead salmon could not be eaten because they were so fishy? It seems to me he did."

"It seems to me he did, too, Hugh. I believe you're right about that."

"Well," said Hugh, "I guess that's common enough. I've tasted beef and buffalo both that tasted mighty strong of garlic."

"Why, yes, Hugh, I remember now, you told me all about this last year. You told me about it at the same time that Mr. Fannin told us about the hogs and chickens which could not be eaten on account of having fed on the dead salmon. I had forgotten all about it."

"Yes, son, I thought we had talked it over before."

"Well, Hugh, you explain a good many things to me, and I am afraid I forget some of them."

"Well, son, you can't remember everything. Let's go down and saddle our horses now."

They went down to the barn and saddled up. Hugh's was a handsome young black horse, nervous and full of spirit, but with a good disposition, and Jack could not help admiring the quiet way in which Hugh walked up to and soothed the horse, talking to him and patting him in a friendly way that seemed to overcome the animal's fears.

Pawnee flinched when the saddle blanket was put on, and again when the saddle struck his back, but Jack talked to him and petted him and he stood quietly while the saddle was being cinched.

"It will be a good idea for you not to draw that cinch too tight at first, son," said Hugh, "and then to lead him around a little; if he wants to buck, let him buck with the saddle."

This seemed good advice to Jack, and he led the horse out of the barn. Pawnee acted a little wild, and kept jumping when a stirrup knocked against his side, but he made no attempt to get rid of the saddle, though nervous about the noise that it made.

"He's all right, Hugh," said Jack, "I'll leave him standing here while I run up and get my rifle and cartridge belt."

He threw down the reins and the rope, and the horse stood quietly enough by Hugh until Jack returned. Then taking the rope off his neck, he tied it to the saddle, thrust his gun in the scabbard, and throwing the reins back over the horse's head, slowly and carefully mounted. Pawnee stood very quietly, but turned his head around as if curious to see what this weight was that he now felt on his back, and then at a touch of the spur moved off, and Hugh and Jack soon passed over the hill and out of sight of the ranch.

As the day advanced the sun grew warmer and the field of snow was dazzling.

"We ought to have blackened our faces before we started out," said Hugh. "This is just the kind of day to get a bad attack of snow blindness."

"Yes," said Jack, "I can see that's so, but this snow isn't going to last the day out. See how many patches of bare ground are beginning to show, and how the water is running off into the ravines."

"That's so," said Hugh. "If it were not for the way it's going it would be a good idea for us to tie our handkerchiefs across our noses. Anyhow, I don't want to get an attack of snow blindness; it's mighty painful, I can tell you, and every time you get it it makes your eyes weaker and more liable to another attack if you are out in the bright sunshine when the ground is covered with snow."

"Were you ever snow blind?" asked Jack.

"Yes," replied Hugh, "I've been snow blind, but I never had a real bad attack. I've been so that I couldn't see, and the way my eyes hurt was something awful, but it always passed off in a few days. I never had an attack like I've seen some men have, where they would be blind and suffering for weeks at a time."

"Where are you going to look for that antelope, Hugh?" said Jack.

"Why, I think we might go up toward the head of the Basin and then swing over onto the east side. It's