CLIMBING FOR WHITE SHEEP 233 



tracks through the canyon and up the long hillside that 

 we had descended. As we came to the top our traces 

 were pretty well covered by the drifting snow. I was 

 peering this way and that. 



"Don't move," said Bill. "I'm not looking for our 

 tracks; I'm looking for these sheep. There they are!" 



We were, in fact, within one hundred and fifty yards 

 of the herd of seven rams which had lain down in the 

 shelter of the little knoll from which we had first seen 

 them. It was almost impossible to see them through 

 the fog. As I crawled carefully nearer, some of them 

 rose. They looked as large as camels, but very ghostly, 

 and we could just discern their outlines. 



The best ram was still lying. Others about him were 

 scrambling to their feet. Finally he too stood up and I 

 fired; he turned and faced us. Another shot and he 

 ran. At the third he stood, evidently badly hurt. A 

 fourth shot knocked him over backwards, dead. Then 

 the others broke and ran, some jumping fifteen feet, 

 according to the tracks that we afterward measured. I 

 paced one hundred and twenty-five yards to where the 

 ram had been first hit. It was a miserable exhibition of 

 shooting, as the first bullet had broken his lower jaw and 

 nicked the horn on one side; nor was the trophy as 

 large as either of the first two which we had obtained. 

 But the interesting conditions in which the animal was 

 brought down made the specimen appear even more 

 valuable. The horn measurements were: length 33 j 

 inches, girth 12^ inches, spread 17f inches. 



For the last time, then, the next morning we washed 

 our faces in the gold pan, which had been our basin since 

 we arrived here, and packed down to the cabin at 

 Benjamin Creek, making the six miles in two hours and 



