IN THE FAR WEST. 347 



amateur may class them among his trophies of the chase, 

 provided he is willing to bear the toil and expense of visiting 

 their haunts. They are common also in Wyoming, and one 

 peak is called Sheep Mountain from the numbers which 

 formerly frequented it. A small remnant or band of Indians 

 who dwell in its vicinity are known as Sheep Eaters, from 

 the fact that they lived principally on the llesh of the big- 

 horn, and that they are more partial to it even now, though 

 they have partaken of the foods used by the white man, 

 than to any other class of meat. Several Western tribes 

 make the flesh into pemmican, and consider it superior to 

 that made from the buffalo, while they use the fat for 

 making candles. These give a bright flame, and burn like a 

 wax candle. The whites even consider wild cutlets a rare 

 delicacy, for the flesh of a bighorn in good condition brings 

 iifteen cents a pound, whereas venison sells for five cents, and 

 often for less. 



I first became acquainted with mountain sheep in Oregon, 

 in which State they are still quite numerous along the eastern 

 slope of the Cascade Range, and especially in that vast 

 zoological garden known as the Klamath Basin ; and I felt 

 prouder of the first one I killed than I did of all that has since 

 fallen to my lot. The friend in whose company I hunted on 

 that occasion lived in Eastern Oregon, and cultivated a fertile 

 farm at the base of a high and long spur of the above 

 Range. Starting out from his house by half-past three a.m., 

 one fine morning in autumn, a long and toilsome climb led 

 us to the summit of a mountain spur; and working our way 

 slowly to the windward along this, and peering about every- 

 where for " signs," an hour's tramping carried us into a small 

 and green vale, which was buried deep down in the mountain 

 side. It was covered with the greenest and most luxuriant 

 of grasses, and was hemmed in by dark basaltic crags, sloping 

 terraces, and funereal pines and firs that soughed in the 

 morning breeze. A fairy-like tarn nestled in the centre, and 

 reflected the shrubbery that margined its banks with mirror- 

 like fidelity. Passing through this vale we reached the steep 

 ascents on the further side, just as the blood-red morning sun 



