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Show 346 THE CALIFORNIA AND OREGON TRAIL. ing his white throat to the admiration of his visitors. At length, one morning about the middle of winter, he gave up the ghost. His death was attributed to starvation, a very probable conclu. sion, since for six months he had taken no food whatever, though the sympathy of his juvenile admirers had tempted his palate with a great variety of delicacies.. We found also ani. mals of a somewhat larger growth. The number of prairie dogs was absolutely astounding. Frequently the hard and dry prairie would be thickly covered, for many miles together, with the little mounds which they make around the mouth of their burrows, and small squeaking voices yelping at us, as we passed along. The noses of the inhabitants would be just visible at the mouth of their holes, but no sooner was their curiosity satisfied than they would instantly vanish. Some of the bolder dogs-though in fact they are no dogs at all-but little marmots rather smaller than a rabbit-would sit yelping at us on the top of their mounds, jerking their tails emphati. cally with every shrill cry they uttered. As the danger drew nearer they would wheel about, toss their heels into the air and dive in a twinkling down into their burrows. Toward sunset, and especially if rain were threatening, the whole community would make their appearance above ground. We would see them gathered in large knots around the burrow of some favo. rite citizen. There they would all sit erect, their tails spread out on the ground, and their paws hanging down before their white breasts, chattering and squeaking with the utmost vivacity upon some topic of common interest, while the proprietor of the burrow with his head just visible on the top of his mound, would sit looking down with a complacent countenance on the enjoyment of his guests. Meanwhile, others would be running • THE LONELY JOURNEY. 347 about from burrow to burrow, as I· f on s orne errand of the last . t their subterranean commonwealth. The snakes 1mportance o . . are appal .e n tl y the prairie dooa 's worst enemies, . at least I. thmk too well of the latter to suppose that they associate on fnendly terms with these slimy intruders, who may be seen at all times basking among their holes, into which they always retreat when disturbed. Small owls, with wise and grave coun- tenances, a1 s o make their abode with the prairie dogs, though on what terms they live together I could never ascertain. The manners and customs, the political and domestic economy of these little marmots is worthy of closer attention than one is able to give when pushing by forced marches through their country, with his thoughts engrossed by objects of greater moment. On the fifth day after leaving Bisonette's camp, we saw, late m. the afternoon, what we suppose d t o be a considerable stream, but on our approac h1. ng I· t, we wf.' un d to our mortifica-tion nothing but a dry bed of sand, into which all the water ha~ sunk and disappeared. We separated, some riding in one direction and some in another, along its course. Still we found no traces of water, not even so much as a wet spot in the sand. The old cotton. wood trees that grew along the bank, lamentably abused by lightning and tempest, were withering with the drought, and on the dead limbs, at the summit of the talles~, ha lf a dozen crows were hoarse l y cawm· g, 1I· ke birds of ev1l omen, as they were. We had no alternative but to keep on. There was no water nearer than the South Fork of the Platte, about ten miles distant. We moved forward, angry and silent, over a desert as flat as the outspread ocean. The sky had been obscured sm. ce the mornm· g by thin mists |