They walked over toward the other side of the shoulder, talking as they went, and as they passed down through a little hollow, suddenly a bird, about as big as a banty hen, brown and black, with some white on it, flew up from the ground and struck against Jack's knees, and then dropped down and began to flutter about at his feet. Joe sprang forward and struck at it with his bow, but Jack caught his hand and said: "Hold on, hold on; don't kill it; let's see what it means." They stood there for a moment or two and watched the little bird, and suddenly Jack said: "I believe that's a white-tailed ptarmigan, and it's got a nest, or young ones right here somewhere. Do you know what it is, Joe?"
"No," said Joe, "I don't know what you call it; I've seen plenty of them before; they live up here in the snow, and in winter they're all white; it's some kind of a chicken, I guess."
"Yes," said Jack, "that must be what it is. Ain't I glad I've seen one. I wish though we could find the nest, or see the little ones."
As he said this, Joe very slowly and carefully stooped down, and reaching out his hand grasped something between two of the stones, and then standing up again said, "Here's one."
It was the tiniest little chicken that Jack had ever seen, hardly bigger than his thumb, covered with fluffy yellow and brown down, and looking fearlessly at its captors with its bright brown eyes. The mother bird had drawn off a little bit while they were talking, but now seeing that one of her young was in danger, she rushed at Jack again, pecking furiously at his trousers, and sometimes holding them and flapping against his legs with her wing.
"Oh," said Jack, "isn't he a beauty; isn't he a perfect beauty. Wouldn't I give anything to carry half a dozen of those back to the States, and try to raise them; but it would be no good I suppose to take this one down; it never would live down on the prairie, and we couldn't get anything to feed it, anyhow."
"No," said Joe, "no good to try to raise it, and it's too small to eat."
"That's so," said Jack, and stooping down he opened his hand, when the little one ran nimbly over the rocks, followed much more slowly by its mother.
The boys went on over to the edge of the rocks and looked down into the wide valley below them; then they turned and walked a mile or two up toward the main range. Joe pointed out to Jack some places where sheep had recently stamped out beds and lain in them, but nothing living was seen. At length, as the sun began to sink toward the west, they went back to the point where they had ascended to the table-land, and going down to the meat, carried it down to their horses, packed it on them and returned to camp.