IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS 



when I made the descent of the mountain proper, 

 but I was now in a dense forest with down tim- 

 ber, and only starlight to guide me. Anyone who 

 has ever traveled in a heavy pine forest after 

 night knows what little light sheds through. I 

 arrived at camp after fording the Sunlight River 

 four times, hip deep in places, at just midnight, 

 my limbs bleeding in a dozen places, blood on 

 my face from a fall (and this smeared all over my 

 physiognomy from frequent use of my handker- 

 chief), and altogether the most dilapidated look- 

 ing vagabond that had been seen in those parts 

 for many a day — and the Sunlight River District 

 has seen some tough-looking ones in her time. 

 I had also an experience in Montana in 191 1 

 that I shall not soon forget. Johnny Ballenger 

 and I were hunting sheep on the upper reaches of 

 Grizzly Creek, in the Hell-Roaring country north 

 of Gardiner. While on the very precipitous side 

 of a mountain we came to an old snow bank. 

 The snow, except for an inch or two that had 

 recently fallen, was as hard as ice and descended 

 down a gulch at an angle of about 45°. It was 

 about fifty feet across, and 300 feet long, and as 

 it dropped over a precipice 50 yards below us we 

 felt that there was no way to get around it. 

 Johnny got over it first, and stood, watching my 

 progress, a few yards below the point that I was 

 headed for. When within ten feet of the goal I 

 slipped and fell, but luckily landed in a sitting 

 position. Before I could jab my gun stock in 



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