CHAPTER VII 



" The Winter ! the brightness that blinds you, 

 The white land locked tight as a drum, 

 The cold fear that follows and finds you, 

 The silence that bludgeons you dumb." 



August so. The weather had cleared and this 

 morning at five o'clock we saddled our horses and 

 loaded a pack animal with bedding, frying pan, tea 

 kettle, with a few provisions, and Hoyt and myself, 

 with Dixon and Albert, started for a three days' 

 hunt among the crags at the head of the St. Clair. 

 Arrived at the forks, we took the left branch and 

 traveled until noon up to the head-waters among the 

 peaks where Cutting and Bettle saw so many rams. 

 Dispatching a light lunch and hobbling our horses 

 on a bench, where there was slough grass, we began 

 to climb the mountains and while crossing the ridge 

 observed two rams resting among the crags three 

 miles away. We started up after them and when 

 half-way up the rock slope, the two rams began to 

 descend into the canyon ; at the same time we noticed 

 two other rams resting on a distant peak, and we 

 drew lots to decide that Hoyt with Dixon should 

 stalk the two sheep on the sky line, while the writer 



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