2 4 o THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 



the foot of the next spur, under the cliffs, I saw the whole 

 band, all its members lying down and looking only up- 

 ward. There was nothing to do but again to climb up 

 on the crest; but I had studied the ground and knew 

 just how to approach them and also the point on the spur 

 from which to get a shot. Reaching the spur I began to 

 descend, and the stalk was on in earnest. When I 

 started downward the sun was just above the horizon and 

 threw long shadows. Canons were on both sides of me, 

 and my shadow fell far out down the slope. I waited, 

 therefore, until the sun went down, and again started. 

 There was not a breath of wind, the sky above was clear, 

 the whole landscape was hushed and still. Peace breathed 

 over the mountain; the peace of approaching twilight. 

 Directly below were the three Alpine lakes, their surfaces 

 like glass and burnished with the reflection of the colored 

 sky. So calm was the water that the delicate ripples 

 made by insects could be plainly seen. Three teals were 

 gently floating on the lower one. To the west ranks of 

 bewildering peaks lifted up in a sky of gorgeous crimson, 

 gradually shading into the cool gray above. A golden 

 tinge haunted the crests, while pyramids, spires, and 

 domes were rosy yellow above the blue cast of the 

 slopes which led down to the shadowy purple of the 

 valleys. 



The ridge-top of the spur was steep. Step by step I 

 advanced downward, now over a little grass, now over 

 broken rock, often letting myself down low ledges. It 

 was already so dark that I felt doubtful of seeing my 

 rifle sights. It was so still that I crept for a hundred 



