i 2 8 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 



stonei, two slightly lighter; the remaining nine were white, 

 like the sheep of the Ogilvie Rockies. Two of the 

 darker ones were three-year-old rams. Lightly and 

 quickly they stepped along, now running a few jumps, 

 now separating in disorder, and after standing rigidly to 

 scrutinize the surrounding country, they again advanced 

 in single file. Before I could realize it, they were within 

 a hundred yards, on a level with me. Aiming at a ram, 

 my rifle misfired twice, but the third pull of the trigger 

 sent a bullet which killed him. A second shot killed the 

 other ram, and the third, a dark ewe, as the band was 

 running in a circle. Twice I fired at the remaining dark 

 ewe and missed, but at the next shot the bullet struck her 

 and she began to totter in such a way that I knew the 

 wound was serious. The band stopped for a moment 

 and began to walk toward the other side of the ridge 

 while I was taking my kodak from my rucksack. The 

 wounded one staggered along and I followed quickly. 

 The band stopped to look at me, and being near I took 

 several photographs of it. All the time while I was fol- 

 lowing, a breeze blew directly from me to them, and my 

 scent did not frighten them. Soon they walked away, 

 and finally broke into a run as they circled around the 

 top and disappeared. It was about noon. 



Walking ahead I saw the wounded ewe fifty yards 

 below, lying down on the slope, and a final shot killed it. 

 Here at last was success. Although the rams were small, 

 I had secured a fine series of the sheep of this district, and 

 that was the main object of my trip. Under a blue sky, in 

 the cold, crisp air, warmed by the shining sun, I worked 



