FOREST A N D S T R E A M 
January, 1920 
after taking measurements and some 
pictures. 
The following day we moved camp and 
the next day I stayed in camp to clean 
the scalp and skin while “W” went out; 
on a hunt for sheep, goats or anything 
that might be found. Dick and I were 
sitting near camp hard at work on the 
skins while Mat, our none too clean cook, 
was whistling his one and only tune, a 
plaintive sort of thing, while washing his 
clothes and towels in a basin made of 
a canvas pack cover set in a hole in the 
ground, when I happened to look up at 
the mountain, which rose quite abruptly 
across the small park-like valley where 
we were camped and noticed a small ob- 
ject move on a bare spot about a quarter 
of the way to the summit which I made 
out to be a bear. It did not take long to 
spy out the lay of the land and as the 
wind was in our favor we were soon on 
our way to the spot where the bear had 
been seen. After getting up to where 
we thought we should find some signs of 
it, we saw nothing, but happening to look 
back towards camp we saw Mat motion- 
ing with a towel and on going in the di- 
rection he had waved, we came through 
a patch of scrubby trees to an open place 
and there on his haunches, sat a black 
bear in the act of reaching out and pull- 
ing berry bushes to him. As I look back 
at it now, it seems like cold murder, but 
then all I thought of was bear! bear! 
I have hunted nearly all my life and had 
never shot a bear, though I once did 
wound one that got away, and I did not 
stop to think of anything except to make 
a good shot. Well, I shot the poor brute 
through the throat and then gloated over 
it but as a matter of fact it was a fine 
bear, though only two-thirds grown. I 
still have her hide which is in good 
shape, but it was only murder for she 
never knew I was there and never had a 
chance. 
W E hunted for sheep steadily and 
finally got into a country where 
they were plentiful but did not 
have the good fortune to run onto any 
very large ones so we only got medium 
heads. The day I got my best sheep 
was a day I will never forget for it was 
a heart-breaker and both Dick and I 
were about tired out when we at last 
reached camp late at night. It happened 
in this manner. We were camped in a 
beautiful but quite narrow valley, be- 
side a stream, with mountains of no 
mean size rising abruptly in front 
and back of us. “W” chose one side, that 
back of the camp, and I took the other. 
We crossed the stream on a fallen log 
about two hundred yards from camp 
and struck up the mountain and were 
out of breath in a few minutes, but we 
went on and at last reached the summit 
and saw nothing but a few ptarmigan in 
their half white plumage. The top was 
quite broad and we crossed this and sat 
down in the lea of a big rock for a 
smoke and a look around. Soon a snow- 
squall hit us and as it was too snowy 
and windy to attempt any climbing ex- 
cept at too much risk, we were forced 
to wait until we were chilled through. 
Finally we could stand it no longer and 
started out, thinking it would be worse 
to freeze than to get a tumble, but luckily 
the snow stopped soon afterwards and 
we made out a band of sheep on the next 
mountain, almost at the summit. As we 
could see nothing else in sight, we started 
after them and about three hours later 
were up almost where we had seen them 
earlier in the day. At last we struck 
their tracks which led along the moun- 
tain and then up over the crest and down 
the other side. We only followed down 
a short distance and then on coming 
around a sharp turn found ourselves al- 
most in the midst of a band of about ten 
Stone sheep which split and ran in every 
direction except towards us. I missed the 
big ram of the band cleanly the first 
two shots and then managed to hit him 
and he dropped. We hurriedly skinned 
him out and taking his head and scalp 
and leaving the meat for the next day 
started for camp. To get there we had 
to go down one mountain, and then up 
another and down the other side of it to 
camp, and Dick who had a good bump of 
locality struck the same log we had 
crossed on in the morning, though now 
it was late at night. How he knew where 
he was going I do not know. I do know 
though that I fell enough times coming 
down in the darkness to get completely 
mixed up and would not have been at all 
surprised if we had walked in at Tele- 
graph Creek. A good supper was soon 
ready and disposed of and we then felt 
all right. There is no use in my at- 
tempting to describe the scenery we 
saw this day and many others. Any 
one who has been in the mountains knows 
what it is like and can picture it all, 
from flowers and birds and rock slides, 
to the sunlight on some rugged snow- 
capped mountain. Then the snow-squalls, 
cold and forbidding, and the sight of a 
ram leading his band of ewes to some 
favorite feeding ground, together with 
* » 
the shrill whistling of the marmots, all 
go towards making up a picture that is 
always remembered. 
Many grizzly bear signs were seen, but 
we never saw one though at times we 
must have been quite close to them. 
Driven back to camp one day by a bad 
storm we came on the track of a large 
one within a hundred yards of camp, 
but as it had taken to the rocks near 
there we were unable to follow its 
track. Nearly every other party we 
heard of afterwards had either shot or 
seen grizzlies. I never realized how 
large they were until I saw on a sand bar 
on the Stikine, the foot prints of a big: 
grizzly that had walked along looking for 
the dead salmon that were lying every- 
where along the river banks and bars.- 
Hardly a day went by that we did not 
see quantities of game about us but a* 
we each had some heads we did not shoot 
any more of medium size but spent our 
days hunting for big ones, but we were 
doomed and never saw any larger ones 
than we had in camp. Whenever we 
wanted a change of diet we shot ptarmi- 
gan for they were plentiful and could 
be found nearly any time we went out. 
Up to the time we left the mountains on 
September 30th, we never saw them in 
the full white plumage though the white 
predominated. These birds usually are 
quite tame and can be shot with a .22 
rifle and only seem wild when a storm is 
coming up, when they then flush some 
distance away. The Indians who have 
superstitions about nearly everything, 
told us that to imitate ptarmigan was 
very bad luck, and if one was boiled it 
was sure to snow. We did not boil any 
that I can remember, but still had the 
snow. We tried eating marmots and 
porcupines also but could not work up 
much enthusiasm over either though the 
Indians preferred them to any kind of 
meat. I saw Dick one day, with great 
