i 3 4 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 



The men had again been down to the river with an- 

 other load. The thermometer went up during the night 

 to ten degrees above, as we slept for the last time in that 

 little shelter-camp, nestled in the woods and facing the 

 broad meadows and bold ranges beyond. 



September 23. The next morning our packs were 

 made up, and we staggered down the steep side of a 

 ridge to the flats below and crossed directly to the river, 

 reaching it by the middle of the afternoon. While 

 descending, we had seen signs of black bears, where they 

 had been feeding on dwarf juniper berries. After lunch, 

 the men went three miles down river to the cache for the 

 purpose of bringing up a canoe, and I went about two 

 miles up river and called for awhile, but no moose ap- 

 peared. Returning, I found Selous cooking at the fire, 

 and shortly after our men returned, poling the canoe. 

 After all our material was moved into a heavy spruce 

 wood nearby, a large fire was started, the light of which 

 danced about the trees and caused the red squirrels to 

 chatter. 



September 24. By morning the thermometer had 

 gone up to thirty-two degrees. It was raining and, except 

 for a few moments in the afternoon, continued to rain all 

 day. I started down river, intending to go to two fairly 

 large lakes some distance below the cache, to call for 

 moose. Soon I reached a beautiful beaver dam five feet 

 high, which lifted the waters of a small stream into a lake 

 of several acres, surrounded by spruce woods. Shortly 

 after crossing it, I came to a trapper's cabin, made by 

 Bob Riddell, who intended to trap for martens in that 



