There were two voices, one a little higher pitched than the other, and both talked at once. Beginning in a low-toned complaining wail like the last despairing cry of a lost soul entering perdition, remarks would follow each other in crescendo volume, and in ever increasing rapidity, epithets would be fired by the contestants until the snarling, sarcastic statements were fairly spat out, ending in shrieks that could be heard miles. After an interval of a few seconds during which the disputants seemed to have changed their positions, the argument was renewed, proceeding as before except that with each repetition the anger and violence of the scrappers increased. At the height of one of these tirades there was heard the scratching and tearing of toe-nails on bark as one wordy fighter seemed to chase the other up the trunk of a tree and through the branches. This was quickly followed by two thuds as of one heavy body after another striking the ground, then the breaking of sticks, the rustle of leaves and brush as the two animals raced up the steep hillside. The race was punctuated by snarling, snapping sounds, which died away in the distance as the language fighters passed over the ridge until the sounds finally became inaudible. It was a dark night, and at no time did we get a glimpse, even indistinctly, of the scrappers. We are still speculating and wondering who or what they were. This story has been told to many hunters and trappers familiar with Adirondack forests. Opinions have been sought as to the probable identity of these belligerent animals. So far, no plausible or reasonable suggestion has been made. Some of the old-timers say the tale reminds them of experiences of fifty or sixty years ago, when the bay-lynx, bobcat or wild-cat made these woods and mountains their home and hunting ground; but they have been exterminated. None of these cats have been seen for more than a generation. Neither Bige nor I are acquainted with any animal capable of making the particular kind of noise we heard that night at Muskrat City. Our suggestion is, that possibly the wild-cats have come back. One winter an unusual number of snow storms occurred, following each other in rapid succession until there was an accumulation of snow over five feet deep throughout the forest and on the roof of our camp at Muskrat City. This was followed by rain and freezing weather, turning the snow into ice. The great weight of ice and snow proved too heavy for the roof and it was broken down. In the following spring a large maple tree fell across the camp and crushed it into a tangled, shapeless wreck. Our log camp at Muskrat City has disappeared, but as a memory it shall remain forever! END OF MUSKRAT CITY