i io THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 



imposing sky-line. Timber-line is between three and four 

 thousand feet above sea level. 



Looking below over the vast area of burnt ground, 

 wild and desolate, I could see the river continually curving 

 in its course. Beyond it were two high mountain ranges 

 which did not obstruct a view of the sharp peaks and 

 broken crests of the Russell Mountains. Toward the 

 south-west were the lower ridges and timbered country, 

 including the area between the Forks; and directly south 

 were valleys and woods, extending several miles to a lofty 

 plateau-shaped mountain, its broad dome deceiving the 

 eye as to its altitude. Looking up the river, the vision 

 was lost in a horizon of mountains and peaks, some misty 

 and dim, others glittering in the paths of sunlight where- 

 ever it broke through the clouds. The valley above camp 

 was characteristic a broad area surrounded by an am- 

 phitheatre of the highest peaks, rising above shaggy crests 

 and often above vast precipices. Below the highest 

 peak, almost suspended at the foot of a great cliff high 

 on the mountain-side, the protruding slope held a beau- 

 tiful little lake covered with clear, silvery ice, which re- 

 flected the crags and peaks above it. A little farther on, 

 along the same range, but still higher up, was another 

 lake set in almost perpendicular walls of granite, which 

 surrounded it on three sides. The whole country was 

 covered with snow and seemed bleak and inhospitable. 



As I looked over the small lake a golden eagle was 

 soaring along the cliffs, rising now and then to the crest, 

 and, after circling over the peaks, again descended until 

 it floated across the valley to the higher summits beyond. 



