THE SHEEP OF MOUNT SHELDON 267 



water began to wade out on the sandy bottom. The calf 

 then appeared and followed. I shot the calf through the 

 neck, and it instantly dropped dead. Jefferies, evidently 

 excited, jumped into the boat as the calf fell, and the cow 

 at first stood looking at him. Then she looked at the 

 dead calf and, turning, trotted into the woods for a few 

 feet and stopped ; then trotted a few feet more and stopped 

 again and looked back. Then she disappeared. As 

 Jefferies, with shouts of glee, came paddling the boat, the 

 cow came trotting back, looked at the approaching canoe 

 for a moment and again trotted off, not to reappear. 



After we had dressed the calf and loaded it into the 

 boat, a large flock of short-billed gulls surrounded us and 

 followed all the way to camp. Their plaintive cries re- 

 minded me of coasting along the Inland Passage to Alaska. 

 We now had a supply of food, and not being dependent 

 on the net, could devote time to looking for sheep. 



August 31. The next morning we poled up to Field 

 Lake, and paddled the boat across it and through the nar- 

 row channel to Sheldon Lake at the foot of Mount Shel- 

 don which towers up from its shore. There we pitched 

 the tent among some scattered spruces and constructed a 

 cache to hold the meat. Along the shores and on the 

 island I noticed many shed horns of moose, showing that 

 they had been there in January. That night as I sat in 

 the frosty air before the fire, while sparks were shooting 

 up among the tree tops and the sky was studded with stars 

 brightly twinkling above Mount Sheldon, over the water 

 sounded the call of the loon. I have never heard it be- 

 fore or since in the interior of Yukon Territory or Alaska. 



