THE WHITE GOAT IN ALASKA, 



29 



tons of rock and loam can be started into 

 activity by the loosening of just one stone. 



One gully especially was full of loose 

 granite and frozen gravel, freshly come 

 down that morning, from many feet above. 

 To avoid a perpendicular drop in the de- 

 clivity I had been working my way 

 slowly up, just in the edge of the brush. 

 As the ascent looked easier on the opposite 

 side, I started to cross. Suddenly, with- 

 out the slightest warning, the whole mass 

 of debris, 2 or 3 feet in depth, became 

 freed from its temporary lodging and swept 

 down toward the edge of the cliff. It was 

 a moment, of course, getting under way, 

 and in that interva. a few powerful leaps 

 had placed within reach a projecting ledge, 

 which, however, I failed to grasp in my 

 hurried descent. Then I lost my balance 

 completely and in a half sitting posture was 

 being carried toward a large windfall, ex- 

 tending over and a few feet above the slide, 

 and under which I would pass. 



It seems strange that I did not at once 

 think of the tree as a possible means of 

 escape. At that moment, however, I was 

 wholly occupied in watching the downward 

 flight of an immense boulder that, ricochet- 

 ing past me, bounded over the cliff, and out 

 of sight. I did not feel alarmed, although 

 aware of my danger, and was well under 

 the tree before recognizing in it an avenue 

 of safety. 



Fortunately my rifle had been tossed 

 aside into the bushes, near the ledge above. 

 Straightening myself as I approached the 

 limb, I wade a lunge, throwing both arms 

 about it and swung the lower portion of 

 my body clear of the swiftly moving earth 

 beneath. In a few minutes everything was 

 quiet again; but it was some time before I 

 dared set foot on that treacherous dirt. 

 Then, gingerly enough, I picked my way 

 to where the Winchester was lying, and 

 hastened on to make up the time already 

 lost. Wondering how far ahead my partner 

 and the dogs were, I heard the latter giv- 

 ing tongue among the rocks, some distance 

 above tree line and almost out of hearing. 

 Afraid of not being in at the death, I 

 pressed forward, gradually leaving the 

 scrubby firs below me. 



Old Sam was overtaken while stopping 

 to regain his breath. As I drew near he 

 excused himself by saying, "Wind ain't as 

 good as 'twas 20 year ago." Up to this 

 time, we had seen no tiaces of the animals; 

 but from the sound which now could be 

 plainly heard, concluded the goat or goats 

 were at bay. The excited yelping of our 

 canine friends acted as an incentive, and 

 the climb was quickly resumed, Sam fol- 

 lowing. 



We arrived on the scene of the conflict, 

 greatly fatigued, and covered with perspi- 

 ration, just in time to see Bounce close in 



on a large male goat, and receive a vicious 

 stab in the breast from the old fellow's 

 sharp, jet black horns. Although Carlo was 

 vigorously occupied in the rear, Billy 

 seemed to pay little attention to him and 

 was about to charge poor Bounce, who had 

 backed off and was coughing blood, when I 

 fired, breaking the goat's back with a 45 

 from my repeater. 



It was plain the horn had entered the 

 dog's lung ; and as we examined the wound, 

 it was pitiful to see Sam's streaming eyes 

 and hear his homely expressions of endear- 

 ment. He had lost that dog's sire in the 

 same way, up on the Chickerman river, only 

 in that case dog and goat went over a preci- 

 pice together. Even little Carlo looked 

 on in sympathetic silence as I bound up 

 his wounded partner. 



As Bounce refused or was unable to 

 walk, and as Sam would not hear of his 

 being shot, I turned my attention to the 

 goat ; the second it had been my good for- 

 tune to kill. Wishing to save this splendid 

 specimen for mounting, I at once began 

 taking off the head. During the process 

 Sam conceived the idea of making a 

 stretcher of the hide as a means of getting 

 the dog to camp, and he immediately de- 

 scended to timber, in search of 2 suitable 

 poles. 



Work had proceeded on the carcass 20 

 minutes or more, when I heard Sam shout 

 from below, "Another goat, Teddy; shoot! 

 shoot !" Grabbing the rifle, my attention 

 was attracted by a stone rattling down from 

 higher up on the ridge, and I was just in 

 time to get in a shot as a second goat 

 clambered over the loose rock above. Ap- 

 parently unharmed by the hastily aimed 

 ball, the animal vanished in a flurry of 

 snow. Of course I was soon on his track, 

 and was not surprised, though keenly dis- 

 appointed, at finding neither blood nor hair. 



I decided to undertake the almost hope- 

 less task of following what I thought an 

 uninjured, and already much frightened 

 mountain goat. My lucky star must have 

 been in the ascendent that day, for hardly 

 100 yards were covered when I nearly 

 stumbled over the body of the goat, pitched 

 head downward, in a snow-filled gully. The 

 shot had ranged forward, breaking a num- 

 ber of ribs in its flight. 



When I appeared before Sam later 

 with the head and hide, he "allowed" he 

 had known of my success by the "crazy 

 yelling." It was some time before he could 

 understand why I cut the hides up the 

 back of the neck instead of the front, or. 

 in fact, why I cared to save them at all. 



He had meanwhile completed my inter 

 rupted work; the litter being constructed 

 by running 2 cedar poles through slits cut 

 lengthwise of the skin. 



On the long woolly hair we carefully 



