242 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 



Darkness was rapidly descending. Passing the white 

 ram curled up among the rocks, I had started for the big 

 ram which was lying dead in the bottom of the canon, 

 when a noise below caused me to turn my head, and I 

 saw the first one I had fired at rolling and bounding down 

 the slope until he disappeared in the dusk. Following as 

 rapidly as I could, I almost reached the foot, but it was 

 so dark that I could not find him. Fog began to settle, 

 and I hurried back to the crest. It was nearly ten in the 

 night when I reached it, and a dense fog enveloped the 

 whole mountain. It was dark and the descent over an 

 unknown slope was before me. I was at an altitude of 

 seven thousand four hundred feet, and it was very cold. 

 Feeling my way with the butt of my rifle, hour after 

 hour I descended, step by step, always in danger, and 

 twice falling. 



August 7. It was two in the morning when I reached 

 the foot near the creek coming from the basin. There I 

 kindled a fire and made tea, which together with a small 

 piece of bread refreshed me. Dawn was beginning as I 

 started down the creek, and a heavy rain began to fall. 

 The drenching received while walking through the last 

 two miles of willows was equivalent to complete immer- 

 sion. 



At 4130 in the morning I reached camp. A big fire, 

 a plate of rice soup, and some boiled mutton invigorated 

 me before writing in my journal the events and details 

 of the day. After three hours of sleep, I breakfasted 

 with Jefferies and we started for the carcasses, hoping 

 also to recover the wounded ram. The day was over- 



