NORTH FORK TO THE SELWYN ROCKIES 109 



tents arranged in order under the shelter, and after feast- 

 ing on fresh meat we sat in front of the fire that night 

 feeling more cheerful than at any time since leaving 

 Dawson. We were at last camped high up among the 

 mountains, a fine trophy was in our possession, and we 

 slept soundly after enjoying the dim picture of the 

 rugged mountain in front, its peak, viewed through the 

 spark-spangled smoke of the fire, towering high above 

 like a huge white spectre. The mercury responded to 

 the higher elevation by descending to sixteen degrees 

 Fahrenheit above zero, the lowest recorded up to that 

 time. 



September 9. It was snowing the next morning, but 

 cleared soon after I started to climb the ridge north of 

 camp and ascend the high mountains beyond. Selous 

 remained in camp to prepare his trophy. The snow on 

 the low spruces and dwarf birches gave a true wintry aspect 

 to the landscape. Up to that time I had not convinced 

 myself that leather moccasins were a failure for walking 

 in the snow, but during the ascent of a steep slope, covered 

 with five inches of snow, I soon realized it. Slipping and 

 often falling, it was next to impossible to climb, but finally 

 I reached the top. The sky was perfectly clear and for 

 the first time I beheld the landscape of the Selwyn ranges. 



They are entirely different from the Ogilvie Rockies. 

 Instead of a series of parallel ranges, the Selwyns consist of 

 irregular groups of mountains, often isolated by wide val- 

 leys, the summits from six to eight thousand feet above 

 sea level. The sculpturing of the granite is bold, rugged, 

 and massive, the shattered pinnacled crests forming an 



