American Big-Game Hunting 



into a tall impassable canon through which 

 the stream joined the Twispt, miles below. 

 It was a little lap of land clear at the top 

 of the mountains, the final peaks and ridges 

 of which rose all around, walling it in com- 

 pletely. You must climb these to be able to 

 see into it, and the only possible approach for 

 pack-horses was the pine-tree slant, down 

 which we came. Of course there was no 

 trail. 



We prospected before venturing, and T , 



the guide, shook his head. It was only a 

 question of days — possibly of hours — when 

 snow must shut the place off from the world 



until spring. But T appreciated the three 



thousand miles I had come for goats ; and if 

 the worst came to the worst, said he, we could 

 "make it in" to the Forks on foot, leading 

 the horses, and leaving behind all baggage 

 that weighed anything. So we went down. 

 Our animals slipped a little, the snow balling 

 their feet; but nothing happened, and we 

 reached the bottom and chose a camp in 

 a clump of tamarack and pine. The little 

 stream, passing through shadows here, ran 

 under a lid of frozen snow easily broken, and 



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