the skunks off.  One of these men died.  We were really afraid of them.  Doyle said one had visited him in his tent and he had been forced to cover his head until he nearly smothered.  Now Takahashi slept in the tent with the store of supplies.  One night a skunk awakened him.  In reporting this to me the Jap said:  “See skunk all black and white at tent door.  I flash light.  Skunk no ’fraid.  He no run.  He act funny—­then just walk off.”

After that experience Takahashi set a box-trap for skunks.  One morning he said with a huge grin:  “I catch skunk.  Want you take picture for me send my wife Sadayo.”

So I got my camera, and being careful to take a safe position, as did all the boys, I told Takahashi I was ready to photograph him and his skunk.  He got a pole that was too short to suit me, and he lifted up the box-trap.  A furry white and black cat appeared, with remarkably bushy tail.  What a beautiful little animal to bear such opprobrium!  “All same like cat,” said Takahashi.  “Kittee—­kittee.”  It appeared that kitty was not in the least afraid.  On the contrary she surveyed the formidable Jap with his pole, and her other enemies in a calm, dignified manner.  Then she turned away.  Here I tried to photograph her and Takahashi together.  When she started off the Jap followed and poked her with the pole.  “Take ’nother picture.”  But kitty suddenly whirled, with fur and tail erect, a most surprising and brave and assured front, then ran at Takahashi.  I yelled:  “Run George!” Pell-mell everybody fled from that beautiful little beast.  We were arrant cowards.  But Takahashi grasped up another and longer pole, and charged back at kitty.  This time he chased her out of camp.  When he returned his face was a study:  “Nashty thing!  She make awful stink!  She no ’fraid a tall.  Next time I kill her sure!”

The head of Gentry Canyon was about five miles from camp, and we reached it the following morning while the frost was still white and sparkling.  We tied our horses.  Copple said:  “This is a deer day.  I’ll show you a buck sure.  Let’s stick together an’ walk easy.”

So we made sure to work against the wind, which, however, was so light as almost to be imperceptible, and stole along the dark ravine, taking half a dozen steps or so at a time.  How still the forest!  When it was like this I always felt as if I had discovered something new.  The big trees loomed stately and calm, stretching a rugged network of branches over us.  Fortunately no saucy squirrels or squalling jays appeared to be abroad to warn game of our approach.  Not only a tang, but a thrill, seemed to come pervasively on the cool air.  All the colors of autumn were at their height, and gorgeous plots of maple thicket and sumac burned against the brown and green.  We slipped along, each of us strung to be the first to hear or see some living creature of the wild.  R.C., as might have been expected, halted us with a softly whispered:  “Listen.”