6 
FOREST AND STREAM 
January, 1920 
Stone sheep shot by the author on the wind swept slopes ot tne Cassiar mountains 
swiftly through the high hillsides, we 
had trouble and parted several cables 
which was quite exciting as the Mount 
Royal would then go flying backward 
and land with a thump on some accom- 
modating sand bar. Almost as soon as 
we got through the canyon, the country 
changed and in place of great rugged 
mountains, where high up on the sides 
we would see goats moving about, we ran 
into a lower country where there was 
little snow and it was more rolling and 
open. 
A T Glenora we were met by Frank 
Callbreath through whom we had 
engaged our guides in advance, and 
on reaching Telegraph Creek he escorted 
us to the dance hall which was to be our 
home until we got away into the moun- 
tains. The town was very small, boast- 
ing only two stores, that of the Hudson’s 
Bay Company, and the one belonging to 
John Hyland and one saloon. These with 
a few houses made up the town, so it was 
soon seen. Our guides were Dick and 
Mac and the cook was Mat; all were 
Tahltan Indians and fairly good hunters 
though like most Indians pretty excitable 
and apt to get peevish if anything was 
done not quite to their liking. Dick 
was my guide, and as I look back I feel 
that I would rather have had him on 
such a trip, than any other guide I have 
ever met, for he was always keen on 
hunting and took an interest in what was 
to be seen, and seemed to enjoy the won- 
derful views as much as I did, and was 
always game. 
Owing to the distance from civilization 
and the difficulty of keeping stock 
through the winter months, pack and 
saddle horses were rather scarce and we 
set out with only five pack horses and 
one saddle horse, which seemed queer 
after the numbers usually taken on trips 
farther south, as in the Lillooet district 
or in the western states. We soon turned 
the saddle horse into a pack horse and 
walked, so we could then go ahead of 
the outfit, and on reaching some espe- 
cially attractive spot sit down and smoke, 
and so get a chance to see the country 
much better than if we were thumping 
some old lazy saddle horses in the ribs, 
in an almost futile attempt to keep them 
up with the outfit. 
Our first meat was brought into camp 
by “W” who won the toss, when we saw 
a goat on a neighboring mountain, and 
the fresh meat was most welcome after 
the canned things we had been living on 
for several days. We had swam our 
horses across the Stikine at Telegraph 
Creek and headed south along the line 
of the Government Telegraph line till 
we reached the cabin at Raspberry Creek, 
and then struck away to the eastward 
into the hunting country. After the first 
day from town we saw no one all the 
time we were out, and only once or twice 
ran on old camps. The country we went 
into was full of goats and sheep and we 
got some fair heads of each. I have 
hunted goats on two trips in British 
Columbia and can never see why they are 
so looked down on by most hunters, as 
they live on such ground that it makes 
the hunting quite difficult and in fact 
the ones I have shot, caused me more 
trouble than the sheep did, as the latter 
were found on sloping shale slides while 
the former were on precipitous places 
hard to get at. 
I shot a big billy one day from across 
a ravine after a long stalk and could 
never understand why he was not 
knocked over, for the 30-40 I was using 
went through his shoulder and the bullet 
stayed just beneath the skin on the far 
side, and the only move he made was to 
slowly turn his head about and look to- 
wards me. We were obliged to crawl 
down quite a way and then up again to 
where he still stood, and all the time he 
remained in the same position and save 
for a little blood on his mouth, no one 
would have known that he was hit. He 
had bled internally and was unable to 
move so I shot him again, and we soon 
skinned him out and packed what meat 
we could and the head back to camp 
