THE TRIP UP ROSS RIVER 255 



were not nearly so abundant as on the MacMillan. When 

 we reached the part of the river where salmon first ap- 

 peared, fresh tracks of the black bear were very numer- 

 ous, and still farther up were abundant tracks of the 

 grizzly. Well-worn bear-trails extended along the edge 

 of the woods, usually through the grass bordering the 

 bars. This greatly interested me, for it showed the ex- 

 treme caution of bears. There was no reason, except for 

 purposes of concealment, why they should not have made 

 trails through the grass well out near the bars. I par- 

 ticularly observed the fresh dung. That of the black 

 bears always contained berries, but no signs of berries 

 were observed in that of grizzlies. Often, sections of tape- 

 worm, still living when I saw them, appeared in the dung 

 of both. 



Some impressions of my camps along the banks of 

 Ross River are still vivid in my memory the moaning of 

 the sweeping current, the numerous dying salmon drift- 

 ing down on top ; the continual quarrelling of the ravens 

 gathered on the bars ; the chattering of the red squirrels 

 in the trees. The nights were perfectly calm, and during 

 the late hours the sky colors were gorgeous. A waste of 

 dreary wooded wilderness surrounded me. But every 

 scene of desolation in that wild northern country has its 

 beauties. Along the Ross River it was the fringe of 

 spruce-tops against the sky. I have not elsewhere en- 

 joyed the charm of it so continuously, for the reason that 

 near the other rivers much less of the country is flat. In 

 the evening, when the sky is golden, when deep pink 

 clouds are floating high above the woods, a long line of 



