SEARCHING FOR RAMS 65 



had lain down on the snow and died. It was fully as large 

 as the one I had killed, but a little lighter in color, and 

 the horns, though as long in beam, had but few points. 

 All the satisfaction I had felt in permitting it to escape 

 without firing at it again now disappeared in a feeling 

 of chagrin. The carcass was badly decomposed, but 

 only ground-squirrels had been feeding on it. 



I went on along the uneven crest to the south end 

 of the range, following sheep-trails, among the bleating 

 conies and whistling marmots. From the south moun- 

 tains I crossed back to camp through the rolling country. 

 A sheep was seen against the sky-line of the mountain 

 three miles to the west and another soon joined it, but 

 at that distance it was impossible to make out the sex, 

 though the absence of lambs might indicate rams. It 

 had showered and hailed during the day and at times 

 was cold on the mountain. During the tramp along the 

 crest I noticed two ravens feeding on the carcass of the 

 first ram I had killed, but they were driven away at inter- 

 vals by a golden eagle, who claimed a share of the feast. 

 Not finding Rungius, and thinking he had returned to 

 the main camp, I prepared supper, and after smoking 

 my pipe rolled into the blanket at midnight. As I went 

 to sleep the glow of the twilight in the west was still 

 beautiful, while the pastures and mountains behind were 

 covered with dark clouds. 



July 29. Some time later I was aroused by a noise 

 outside and seized my rifle, thinking it was a bear after 

 the provisions stored near by under a tree. It was Run- 

 gius returning with a caribou head and skin. When 



