lx 



RECREATION. 



THE] IDEA 



STRAIGHT LINE" RE &DE CAPPER 



is the Only one that will de-cap and re-cap properly, all Shot Gun Shells 

 with a central fire hole, Brass or Paper, Domestic or Foreign make, what- 

 ever the inside shape may be, high or low base. 

 It will seat any and all sizes and shapes of pri- 

 mers, straight in the pocket of the shell, posi- 

 tively all the same depth, without concaving 

 the head, or disturbing the fulminate which causes miss- 

 fires. Send us six cents in stamps for HAND BOOK 

 NOa !5« gi ym g full information of New Goods and 

 much new matter of interest to shooters. Address, 



IDEAL MANUF'G CO., 12 U St., New Haven, Conn., U. S. JL 



THE PHIL. B. BEKEART CO., of San Francisco, Cal., Agents for Pacific Coast. 



When you write please mention Recreation. 



AN ALASKA SHEEP. 



My camp was at the big spring on the 

 Kenekott, in the Chitina country, Alaska. 

 The low, rolling hills were covered with 

 scattering spruce trees and luxuriant bunch 

 grass, and rugged peaks formed the back- 

 ground. The day afforded an opportunity 

 for admiration of the sublime view. 



Two hundred yards away lay the great 

 Kenekott glacier, weird and desolate, with 

 its cold, suggestive effrontery, its deep blue 

 crevasses, a river of ice extending from the 

 gigantic Wrangel, mother of a ~ family of 

 glaciers, several miles below, where the 

 Kenekott river boils from beneath it in 

 such a manner as to derive the name of the 

 Pot Hole. 



My attention was attracted to the quack- 

 ing of a duck in the spring, a pool about 60 

 feet in width. As it was a change from 

 ptarmigan and spruce hen, I used my auto- 

 matic pistol in transferring the duck from 

 pool to camp pot. 



Presently I heard the jingling of a bell, 

 and soon my lonely camp was surrounded 

 with pack horses and men. Some of the 

 packers unpacked the tired animals, while 

 others built fires and cooked. They were 

 mine inspectors, prospectors, packers and an 

 Indian. I asked Arizona Jack if the great 

 Bonanza mine was near. He slapped me 

 on the shoulder and pointing across the 

 glacier to lime-capped mountains said, 



"There she are, not 10 miles from yer, 

 just across this ice, and by the holy pokies 

 and the eternal Christendom she has not 

 moved an inch since I first found her, 2 

 years ago." 



Mr. Amey, long, lank and good natured, 

 motioned me to one side and said, 



"You know you missed that bear, in '99, 

 when he was right in camp and we were out 

 of meat?" 



"Yes, and I suppose you intend to tell me 

 of it whenever we meet." 



"Well, I shall never forgive you for it." 



"I don't expect it." 



"Notwithstanding you missed the bear, 

 you can get a sheep at the head of Lakanaw 

 river. Do you understand?" 



They were soon away and I resolved to 

 get a bighorn. Later, I had the chance, 

 50 miles from my camp, at the head of the 

 Lakanaw. I ascended a peak, 2,000 feet 

 above my camp. While resting my eyes 

 from the distant view they chanced to focus 

 on a bighorn standing on a narrow shelf 

 on the opposite side of a deep gorge and 

 not more than 75 yards away. It was use- 

 less to shoot him there, as he would roll 

 over a precipice. He was standing still, 

 with his large, ; curving horns outlined 

 against a crag, while my pistol rested on a 

 rock and I waited for; him to walk a few 

 yards farther out on the ridge. Presently 

 a small young sheep rounded a sharp cor- 

 ner and walked up close to the old ram, 

 which caused him to move out on the ridge. 

 I changed my mind and resolved to procure 

 the younger of the 2. The old fellow moved 

 out of sight. Fearing the other one would 

 not stop, I fired too hurriedly and broke 

 his back. He fell, rolled over and over, 

 down to the ledge where he had been 

 standing, while I held my breath in fear 

 that he would go on over the bluff. That 

 night lonely owl hoots that emanated from 

 the dark recesses of the spruce pines, and 

 the tinkling of the horse bell were my only 

 companions ; but by the bright light of the 

 campfire I feasted on roast mutton. 



One hundred and fifty miles of swampy 

 trail, dry birch ridges, swimming of horses, 

 storm and sunshine, took me to Valdez. 

 The old steamer Excelsior whistled for 

 all on board, and a tall gentleman with a 

 cynical expression requested a private in- 

 terview. He said, 



"Guess we'd better have a settlement." 



"Very well, Mr. Amey, present your bill." 



He took out his pencil, and, scratching 

 on the wharf railing, said, 



"It would facilitate matters if you would 

 give an account of the number of sheep 

 you killed on the Lakanaw." 



I handed him a cigar, and he remarked 

 that the old bear account could be carried 

 forward. 



Addison Powell, Valdez, Alaska. 



