CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 181 



whistle an ancient tune, " Pull for the shore, Sailor," 

 and under the spell of the melodious tune, or pos- 

 sibly to take a look about to locate " the shore," my 

 goat deliberately gave me a profile pose and I has- 

 tily exposed the film. 



However, I had not made that climb for merely 

 a single view, and I continued to whistle to the goat 

 in an effort to lure him down from his rocky perch, 

 but without avail. It is a gox)d motto from the 

 graduate school of experience that " where persua- 

 sion fails, coercion seldom succeeds," but possibly 

 the mountain goat is an exception, for I found out 

 that by breaking off pieces of rock from the cliff to 

 which I clung with one hand for balance and hurling 

 them at the ridge just behind the animal he became 

 considerably annoyed and came down the pinnacle 

 twenty-five feet below the sky line, where he stood 

 for a becoming side view, and then before going 

 back to the crest he turned to look at me for a third 

 picture. As I was about to begin my descent he 

 posed again upon the knife-blade ridge, looking like 

 an ancient white-robed Magi priest; superior, aloof, 

 impersonal, with his face to the declining sun, 

 calmly gazing along the golden-rayed path. 



The descent proved to be considerably more diffi- 

 cult than the ascent, chiefly for the reason that part 

 of the way, clinging with my face to the cliff and 

 backed by space merely, it became necessary to feel 

 the way downward with my toes seeking a secure 



