THE MUSK SHEEP OF ARCTIC AMERICA. 289 



I treated myself to a pipe. While enjoying my 

 baccy, a wader of a description I never before saw lit 

 close to me. It was so tame that I threw several stones 

 at it, almost with success, for the distance was not over 

 ten or fifteen yards, before it took to wing, and went 

 farther down the stream. Anxious to procure a new 

 specimen, I followed till almost a mile lay between me 

 and my fish. To save distance in returning, I deter- 

 mined to cut across the angle formed by the bend of 

 the river, and had progressed about half the way when 

 I saw a female musk- sheep coming after me. When a 

 lad in the Highlands I had got dreadfully punished by 

 a tup, and the remembrances of the event had not yet 

 been forgotten. A mountain ram is a small beast 

 compared to my present pursuer, and lie was able to 

 do enough mischief. The ground was very roughly 

 sprinkled with boulders, some of great size, and for 

 the most inaccessible of those I made the best speed I 

 could muster, and only succeeded in gaining a place of 

 safety when the ewe's horns were within a foot or two 

 of my hurdies. For over an hour she kept watch on 

 me ; and, worse than all, when I got back to my fish 

 some vermin or other had carried all the best ones off, 

 and it was getting too late to hunt up its nest. When 

 at home the Indians soon explained the reasons of this 

 unprovoked attack, and proved the correctness of their 



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