Next morning I found the onager after her night's rest as wild as ever, and as I looked at the handsome creature I almost despaired of ever taming her proud spirit. Every expedient was tried, and at length, when the animal was subdued by hunger, I thought I might venture to mount her; and having given her the strongest curb and shackled her feet I attempted to do so. She was as unruly as ever, and as a last expedient I resolved to adopt a plan which, though cruel, was I knew attended with wonderful success by the American Indians, by whom it is practiced. Watching a favorable opportunity, I sprang upon the onager's back, and seizing her long ear in my teeth, in spite of her kicking and plunging, bit it through. The result was marvelous, the animal ceased plunging, and, quivering violently, stood stock still. From that moment we were her masters, the children mounted her one after the other, and she carried them obediently and quietly. Proud, indeed, did I feel as I watched this animal, which naturalists and travelers have declared to be beyond the power of man to tame, guided hither and thither by my youngest son. Additions to our poultry yard reminded me of the necessity of providing some substantial shelter for our animals before the rainy season came on; three broods of chickens had been successfully hatched, and the little creatures, forty in all, were my wife's pride and delight. We began by making a roof over the vaulted roots of our tree, forming the framework of bamboo canes, which we laid close together and bound tightly down; others we fixed below as supports. The interstices were filled up with clay and moss; and coating the whole over with a mixture of tar and lime-water, we obtained a firm balcony, and a capital roof impervious to the severest fall of rain. I ran a light rail round the balcony to give it a more ornamental appearance, and below divided the building into several compartments. Stables, poultry yard, hay and provision lofts, dairy, kitchen, larder, and dining-hall were united under one roof. Our winter quarters were now completed, and we had but to store them with food. Day after day we worked, bringing in provisions of every description. As we were one evening returning from gathering potatoes, it struck me that we should take in a store of acorns; and sending the two younger boys home with their mother and the cart, I took a large canvas bag, and with Fritz and Ernest, the former mounted on his onager, and the latter carrying his little favorite, Knips, made a detour toward the Acorn Wood. We reached the spot, tied Lightfoot to a neighboring tree, and began rapidly to fill the sack. As we were thus engaged, Knips sprang suddenly into a bush close by, from which, a moment afterward, issued such strange cries that Ernest followed to see what could be the matter. "Come!" he shouted; "come and help me! I've got a couple of birds and their eggs. Quick! Ruffed grouse!"