The White Sheep of Kenai Peninsula 



shouldered our packs and went over the hills to 

 our main camp. Instead of following the trail 

 by which we had come, we decided to push straight 

 across country, hoping in this way to reach our 

 main camp in one march. Our change of route 

 was unfortunate, and this day I can easily put 

 down as the hardest one I ever passed in the 

 mountains. 



In order to bring out all our belongings in one 

 trip we had extra heavy packs, and the country 

 over which we marched was very trying. About 

 noon I spied sheep on one of the outlying hills, and 

 as we came nearer I made out through the glasses 

 that this was a bunch of five rams, and that three 

 of them carried exceptionally good heads. My 

 only chance was to push ahead of my men, and 

 this I did, but stalking sheep over a rough country 

 with a heavy pack on your back is very trying 

 work, and I failed to connect with these rams. 



About five o'clock in the afternoon we came 

 down over the mountains on to the high plateau 

 above our main camp. We were all too used up 

 to go any further, or even put up our light tent, 

 although it soon began to rain. We made a rude 

 camp in a patch of stunted hemlocks, and as I sat 

 before the fire having my tea, I chanced to look 

 up on the hills before me, and there was the bunch 



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