1 86 BIG GAME SHOOTING IN ALASKA chap. 



struck a rock about a foot over the ram's back, and he was 

 not long wishing us good-bye, as he vanished behind some 

 farther crags without giving another chance of a shot. I 

 was disgusted, and doubly so when on looking at the rifle 

 I found the 300-yards sight had been raised, which in the 

 hurry I had not observed, and which probably turned what 

 would have been a good shot, had the sight been down, into 

 a clean miss. I will draw a veil over my remarks on the 

 occasion as I handed Simeon the rifle and proceeded to 

 wend my way back through the brush to camp. He, on the 

 other hand, adopted a shorter but more dangerous mode of 

 getting to the bottom. He ran a few steps down the slide, 

 starting as he went all the small stones around him. Then, 

 sticking his heels close together, and leaning well back, he 

 let himself slide down with the moving mass of stones and 

 dust. It made me almost sick to watch him go down thus, 

 and I was vastly relieved to see him reach the bottom safely. 

 Former experience when crossing the slippery pole had 

 shown me that he did not suffer from nerves, but at this 

 exhibition I felt some fears for his ultimate fate, not unmixed 

 with similar feelings concerning my beloved Mannlicher rifle. 

 Late that evening a Frenchman named Vein, accompanied 

 by two natives, arrived at our camp. They were prospecting 

 for gold in the creek, and being short of grub were glad to 

 accept some of the mutton which we had hanging in camp. 

 Vein was a great raconteur, and regaled me with many of 

 his experiences in Alaska. He said that he had spent one 

 winter in a log-hut on St. Matthew Island in the Bering 

 Sea, and he and his partner killed during the season twenty- 

 one polar bears on the island. 



He also said that he had spent one winter on Montague 

 Island near Valdez, about which place there is a yarn all 



