and beavers, until at length a
bullet or arrow would end all. One after another would be missed by
some friend or trader at the autumn rendezvous, reported killed by the
Indians, and--forgotten. Some men of this class have, from superior
skill or fortune, escaped every danger, lived to a good old age, and
earned fame, and, by their knowledge of the topography of the vast
West then unexplored, have been able to render important service to the
country; but most of them laid their bones in the wilderness after a
few short, keen seasons. So great were the perils that beset them, the
average length of the life of a "free trapper" has been estimated at
less than five years. From the Columbia waters beaver and beaver men
have almost wholly passed away, and the men once so striking a part of
the view have left scarcely the faintest sign of their existence. On the
other hand, a thousand meadows on the mountains tell the story of the
beavers, to remain fresh and green for many a century, monuments of
their happy, industrious lives.

But there is a little airy, elfin animal in these woods, and in all
the evergreen woods of the Pacific Coast, that is more influential and
interesting than even the beaver. This is the Douglas squirrel (Sciurus
Douglasi). Go where you will throughout all these noble forests, you
everywhere find this little squirrel the master-existence. Though only
a few inches long, so intense is his fiery vigor and restlessness, he
stirs every grove with wild life, and makes himself more important than
the great bears that shuffle through the berry tangles beneath him.
Every tree feels the sting of his sharp feet. Nature has made him
master-forester, and committed the greater part of the coniferous crops
to his management. Probably over half of all the ripe cones of the
spruces, firs, and pines are cut off and handled by this busy harvester.
Most of them are stored away for food through the winter and spring, but
a part are pushed into shallow pits and covered loosely, where some
of the seeds are no doubt left to germinate and grow up. All the tree
squirrels are more or less birdlike in voice and movements, but the
Douglas is pre-eminently so, possessing every squirrelish attribute,
fully developed and concentrated. He is the squirrel of squirrels,
flashing from branch to branch of his favorite evergreens, crisp and
glossy and sound as a sunbeam. He stirs the leaves like a rustling
breeze, darting across openings i