54 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 



head under the netting, I was quickly hummed to sleep 

 by the disappointed mosquitoes. But the protection did 

 not last long and all night I kept rearranging the netting 

 unsuccessfully. 



July 24. In the morning it was raining and a late 

 start was made. To the west of my camp the range on 

 its south side was smooth and grassy, covered here and 

 there like all the other slopes, with moss and lichens. Its 

 north side, not visible from the divide, was rough and 

 rocky. The ascent was rather long; the wind was blow- 

 ing strong, and it soon became very cold. Old bear 

 diggings were common and ptarmigan were plentiful all 

 along the slopes. Perched near some cliffs was a rough- 

 legged hawk, which kept constantly crying, while across 

 the divide, on the opposite range, were two golden eagles, 

 soaring about the crests and appearing very dark against 

 the sky. When well up, I suddenly saw, a hundred 

 yards ahead, two ewes and two lambs looking at me with 

 apparent curiosity. They ran forward a few jumps, 

 stopped, and looked again. As I kept on they soon 

 began to run, finally disappearing over the top. The 

 wind was blowing directly from me to them. 



Reaching the crest and looking over, I saw a startling 

 sight. Cliffs and precipices fell perpendicularly to a small 

 circular basin, surrounded on all sides by walls of rock 

 fifteen hundred feet or more in height. Only one or two 

 routes of descent were possible and these were very 

 dangerous. 



The ewes and lambs that had fled over the mountain 

 top now reappeared five hundred yards away on the sky- 



