SHEEP— BOTH WHITE AND DARK 



accessible rim rocks, slides and cliffs, and when I 

 had covered a half mile on this side of the peak 

 I began to wish I had taken our morning's trail. 

 Soon I came to a point where I had to halt 

 against the glazy side of an unclimbable rim. 

 I simply could go no farther that way, so was 

 compelled to follow the only course — climb up- 

 wards over the top of the peak. This I did after 

 much difficulty, crawling and dragging myself 

 over the knife-like edge of the summit at 6:30 

 p. m. — nearly dark in Wyoming the last of 

 September. 



Here I was, 4,400 feet (I always carry an 

 aneroid barometer) in elevation above camp, 

 four miles distant, and 1,000 feet above timber- 

 line, with the task of descending by a route over 

 which, at places, my guide and I had to assist 

 each other in ascending — and this feat to be 

 performed in the dark. It almost gives me a 

 nightmare, even now, when I think of the ex- 

 periences of that night. Ordinarily I would have 

 made camp at timberline, but I was so set on 

 getting in for a little sleep and a change of camp 

 next day, that the camping-out theory received 

 the cold shoulder from me. In some places I had 

 to drop over precipitious rocks six to ten feet, 

 depending on good luck in how I landed at the 

 bottom. I held to insecure roots, shrubs, etc., 

 in climbing down, which at times gave way, 

 precipitating me down backwards eight or ten 

 feet. This was kept up until about 10:30 p. m. 



93 



