166 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 



It was full moonlight. The wind had stopped, the 

 sky was clear, and the woods were hushed and still. Now 

 and then a duck quacked; more often a muskrat splashed, 

 and everywhere I saw the silvery ripples of the water as 

 they swam about. The border of ice attached to the 

 shores glittered in the soft light, and the crystal waters 

 of the lake mysteriously reflected the massive form of 

 Mount Gray towering among the snow-clad summits, 

 mystic and imposing under the golden light. All about 

 through the silent, desolate woods, the hoots of the great- 

 horned owls sounded; white phantom forms of rabbits 

 continually flitted about as I slowly advanced. 



Reaching camp I found that Johnson and Schnabel 

 had seen the same band of ewes again, but had been 

 unable to approach them. 



October 2O. While scanning through my glasses the 

 slopes of Mount Gray the next morning, what was my 

 surprise to see a small ram feeding low on the slope two 

 miles to the south! I watched it for an hour as it fed 

 slowly upward, but no other appeared. I was certain 

 that he was the smaller of the two which I had stalked 

 the day before. Without having suspected it, my second 

 shot must have hit the larger one and he was evidently 

 dead. I went to the lower end of the lake, climbed the 

 mountain, found a way over the crest, searched every- 

 where, but could not find a sign of him, the wind having 

 filled the tracks with snow. It was dark when I returned 

 to camp. Johnson had seen nothing. 



October 21. The next day we left, caught the train, 

 and reached Whitehorse in the evening. 



