INTO THE KENAI 213 



Their summits were covered with unbroken snow and 

 their sides near the tops showed many large patches 

 through which the bare rocks peeped. Below the snow 

 hne we saw nine sheep on the opposite hillside while we 

 were sitting at breakfast the next morning. We did not 

 molest them, for we were to push on about six miles 

 farther up the river to Steve Melcher's cabin. Alex and 

 Fritz went back to the lake to bring up more supplies 

 and a stove, while Bill spent the next day prospecting 

 the trails that led up the river and I wandered off with 

 camera and rifle to look at the neighboring country. 



A stiff half-hour's climb took me up to the top of the 

 bench, down which we had come the day before to the 

 cabin, and led to the very edge of a vertical cliff over- 

 hanging the deep gorge of Benjamin Creek. More than 

 five hundred feet deep, the precipices on both sides of the 

 gorge dropped sheer to the turbulent bed of the mountain 

 torrent. For more than an hour I lay on the edge of the 

 rock hstening to the ceaseless roar of the cataract below 

 and searching the country for animals with my glasses. 

 But there was no sign of game. Across the ravine the 

 mountains ran down almost to meet the crags on which 

 I lay. Looking up the Killey River one could see the 

 snow-crested summits on whose flanks we were to look 

 for sheep, but the bottom of the gorge through which the 

 Killey River issued was blocked from view by wooded low 

 hills and one could not trace the river bed exactly. 



Bill slouched into camp as silently as he had gone 

 out, carrying only the axe with which he had been swamp- 

 ing out a trail. It was a favorite pastime of his to wander 

 off with an axe and cut out the alders and other obstacles 

 in a path which we intended to follow a day or so later. 

 When time permitted this, on account of its being inex- 



