288 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 



were with the ewes, and a ewe which I intended to bring 

 back to Skagway for my friend Newell, Vice-President 

 of the White Pass Railway. 



While the dark, wide valley of the Pelly River, stretch- 

 ing away to the white mountains beyond, was before me 

 on one side, and the snow fields and peaks of the Glen- 

 lyons merged into a golden horizon below a gorgeous 

 crimson sky on the other, I slowly walked along the crest, 

 fearful that the grating noise of my footsteps breaking 

 through the crust would alarm the sheep. Reaching the 

 point where the tracks led down the slope, I saw all of 

 them two hundred yards below, about to cross a deep 

 canon which furrowed the mountain-side. It was 6.30 

 in the evening and rapidly getting dark. At the first shot 

 a small ram fell dead. The band rushed closely together 

 and paused to look. A second shot killed the other ram. 

 One ewe still stood and looked, while the rest of the band 

 dashed down into the canon. As I fired she fell, but rose 

 and began to run diagonally up the slope. My next two 

 shots missed and after putting in a clip of cartridges, I 

 fired again and she fell and rolled. 



Quickly going down to the first one killed, I skinned 

 the hind quarters and cut them off. It was then dark 

 and I had before me the dangerous task of carrying them 

 down the steep, slippery slope. It was finally accom- 

 plished and that night we again feasted on mutton. 



September 24. The next morning Jefferies went to 

 bring back the dead sheep, which could be seen from 

 camp. We intended to take off their skins later. I started 

 toward the south-east mountains, but after having crossed 



