208 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 



July 29. Early in the morning I climbed a little knoll 

 near-by and through my field-glasses, scanned the range 

 behind. Two miles to the north-west, near the top of the 

 smoother portion of a high spur which projected out from 

 the slope, I saw twelve sheep, and more careful inspection 

 revealed their spiral horns. Rams found so quickly! 

 Hastening a mile down the creek to a point where a good 

 view of the spur could be obtained, I seated myself to 

 make a study of the situation. The spur, a high butte 

 with two cone-shaped peaks rearing up from its grassy sur- 

 face, was connected with the mountain by a knife-blade 

 ridge rising almost vertically to a group of crags a few feet 

 below the dominating peak the highest in the vicinity. 



Three of the rams were feeding near a fourth, which 

 was lying down in front of the outside peak; three others 

 were lying on the saddle between the peaks, two of them 

 facing in opposite directions; five more feeding near them 

 on the face of the spur, and one was lying down half-way 

 up on the inside peak. There was no method of approach 

 except in plain sight of the rams, and I waited for two or 

 three hours in the hope that they would move to a posi- 

 tion favorable for a stalk. Among them I noticed only 

 three rams with large horns. They passed the time in- 

 differently, feeding and resting, and though moving lazily, 

 each kept constantly looking about never neglecting the 

 habit of alert watchfulness. No sentinel was posted at 

 any time. 



While I was waiting, a mile to the right along the 

 slope appeared two rams travelling rapidly, now walking, 

 now running, in the direction of the band. By observing 



