70 HUNTING IN THE ARCTIC 



distance, there would be a chance and we could make a 

 camp to hunt from. Collins and Lovering went directly 

 into the hills north of the harbor; Elting and I, westward 

 up the river valley for about five miles. The bed of the 

 valley appeared to be composed of countless sharp stones 

 which had washed down from the steep hills as they 

 disintegrated and shed their loose coating. Over this 

 broken ground a spongy tundra had grown more or less 

 thickly. Recent landslides still lay on the surface and 

 made walking uncomfortable; elsewhere moss and lichens 

 bedded a dozen kinds of beautiful flowers. Occasionally 

 the soil was swampy where clear rivulets watered it. 

 Mostly it was dry and resilient. Here and there a bird 

 rose from cover; we caught in our hands a young eider 

 duck and a young Mongolian plover. Not once, however, 

 did the fog permit us a view of the jagged mountain tops 

 one thousand to fifteen hundred feet above us. Some 

 five miles inland we could see about three miles farther 

 toward the head of the mile-broad valley, which did not 

 seem to differ in character farther up. Then we climbed 

 up into the mist of one of the flanking heights. Nothing 

 was to be seen beyond fifty yards. It was a hopeless 

 proposition for sheep hunting and we returned to the 

 schooner. 



Two days more went by fruitlessly while we waited for 

 the fog to lift. Different members of the party scoured 

 the country in every direction for ten miles without 

 discovering signs of sheep, making it evident that to 

 secure this game we should have to march a considerable 

 distance inland, and have favorable weather for searching 

 the country with our field glasses. 



On one launch trip to the main arm of the bay Elting 

 and I shot several of the abundant water birds. Among 



