222 BIG GAME SHOOTING IN ALASKA chap. 



As the afternoon was drawing on, we set hastily to work, 

 skinning off the scalp with the head and horns. Then 

 began the job of packing them home, a distance of some eight 

 miles at least, and most of it through very dense brush. It 

 was fortunate that both natives had come up, so that they 

 could relieve each other in turns with the pack. Even then 

 our pace was very slow. To make matters worse, it came 

 on to stream with rain about 5 o'clock ; under the clouded 

 heaven it grew almost dark by 7 p.m. It was about this 

 time that, after going for something like two hours, Pitka, 

 who professed to know the way back to camp, and was then 

 leading, suddenly stopped. On reaching him I saw in front 

 and below us at no great distance the gleam of Kussiloff 

 Lake. This was a charming prospect, as I at once saw that 

 we had been walking the whole time almost with our backs 

 turned to our camp. When I asked Pitka where he now 

 was, he replied cheerfully, " Me lose 'um camp all right. No 

 can find 'um now to-night." Both natives at once gave up 

 the job as hopeless, and were in favour of sitting down then 

 and there to spend the night ; but I was horribly hungry, 

 and would not hear of chucking up the sponge so soon. 

 Telling them to follow me, I laid a course as well as I could 

 without my compass, and with but a vague idea of where the 

 sun had set. How many miles away we were, I knew not, 

 but I knew the general line of the camp, and after three 

 hours' steady walking, at 10 p.m. I struck the tents, having 

 gone in a dead straight line to them. This good steering 

 made a very favourable impression on my men, and Pitka 

 afterwards confided to me, " Me think you native all right, no 

 white man find 'um camp same way in dark. You bet, you 

 never lose 'um camp." 



It was a case of a late supper that night, but it tasted 



