38 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Jan. II, 1913 
precipice, I waited for the clouds to roll by. 
At last, like the unfolding of some great pano¬ 
rama, they were drawn aside, revealing the 
titanic arena below with the sheep lying scat¬ 
tered about. I counted them; there were 
twenty-three, .^s so much time had elapsed 
without any indications of my two pals, I con¬ 
cluded that, the weather being so unfavorable, 
they had returned to camp. I then decided 
that if the clouds broke again 1 would try a 
long chance shot from where I was with the 
6 mm. This opportunity soon arrived, and, 
though the distance was too great to distin¬ 
guish which carried the largest horns, I singled 
out one of the larger white spots and fired. 
Failing to take into consideration that I was 
shooting almost straight down, I evidently 
shot over. The sheep immediately leaped to 
their feet, somewhat bewildered, and a second 
shot brought no noticeable results. Then, con¬ 
trary to our expectations, they made for the 
head of the basin and succeeded in forcing their 
way through the snow^ to the top of the ridge, 
over which they disappeared. There was a 
compelling motive for their actions, as I 
learned later on comparing notes at camp that 
evening. 
By taking advantage of available cover, of 
which we had not been aware, Frank had suc¬ 
ceeded so well in his stealthy approach on the 
sheep that he was almost among them when I 
opened fire. As he was so close and not 
knowing from what quarter the shots came, he 
had at once sought shelter among some rocks. 
After an interval he stepped forth and emptied 
the .22 at them. Though he heard several 
bullets strike, he failed to stop any of them. 
Most hunters will smile at the idea of ex¬ 
pecting to kill sheep with a .22, but I have 
killed goat and deer with a .22 special. After 
emptying the .22, Frank used the pistol with¬ 
out result. Had he used it first he might have 
reduced that unlucky number, 23; although the 
pistol is accurate for quite long range and has 
a good penetration. 
The height I was above the sheep may be 
realized inasmuch as I had not seen Frank or 
heard the reports of his shooting. 
No simmering pot of sheep meat wafted 
its fragrant odors about our camp-fire that 
night, and our steaks were sliced from a slab 
of bacon. 
The follow'ing day I ascended a high point 
for a reconnoissance and took a few snap-shots 
with the camera. To my left was Mount Drum, 
a beautiful shell-shaped mountain with a 
serrated top of glistening snow, like a tinted 
seashell set on edge. Before me stood the 
i6.200-foot Mount Sanford, whose upper slopes 
still retained the snow' mantle it had worn for 
untold ages, The higher peaks in these north¬ 
ern latitudes kick off their foot covering dur¬ 
ing the summer, but keep their top-coat on and 
head well muffled. To the right lay the long, 
dome-shaped, ice-armored volcano of Wran¬ 
gell, “Kah-Una-Lita” (the Smoke Mountain) 
of the Indians. The grim old warrior wears 
his glacial coat of mail in calm complacency, 
only breathing out a vast volume of smoke as 
evidence of the mighty internal fires beneath. 
On a clear, calm, W'intry day, w'ith temperature 
around 40 or 50 degrees below zero, it presents 
a magnificent spectacle, wdth its great volume 
of smoke ascending several thousand feet per¬ 
pendicularly and then mushrooming out into a 
gigantic head. Sometimes the glistening, snowy 
slopes are darkened by falling ashes, but are 
soon whitened by a fresh fall of snow'. 
The next day we sought new fields for the 
sheep. Frank and Lou going on the mesas to¬ 
ward Sanford, while I took to the higher ridges 
of Wrangell. I worked over until I could look 
dow'ii upon the glacier and the silvery thread 
of the Chetudina’s waters as it wound its way 
through the ice-cut gorge several thousand feet 
below. 
As I had not found likely looking sheep 
country, I turned back for camp. Coming out 
on a high ridge overlooking the Dadina, I took 
out my field glasses and scanned the opposite 
slopes for the other two hunters. I soon dis¬ 
covered several sheep feeding, and a moment 
after saw Frank and Lou making their way 
toward them. A little later I could see the 
white puffs of smoke as the shooting com¬ 
menced, but it was all soon lost to view in a 
depression be3'ond. That evening they returned, 
each carrying a sheep, and a third large one was 
left behind to be brought in the next day. In the 
morning Lou and I went out and brought in 
the large one. 
For several days I had talked of attempt¬ 
ing to climb Mount Wrangell, w'hose summit 
at that time no one had come anywhere near 
reaching. Frank and Lou laughed at the foolish¬ 
ness of anyone having a desire to climb high 
mountains; but I said I was going to have a 
try at it anyw-ay. I had intended to start that 
morning, but carrying in the sheep had occu¬ 
pied the forenoon, so I did not get away until 
2 p. M. As I intended to spend a night on the 
glacier. I carried a pack of about forty pounds, 
consisting of a sleeping bag, snowshoes, camera, 
field glasses, biscuits and sheep meat. I took 
to the glacier, whose greenish tinted front was 
fissured and curved into irregular shapes. 
Climbing was quite good, except for the 
numerous large crevasses cut across the 
glacier. 
When the lengthening tw'ilight shadows had 
deepened the gloom of these bottomless pits, 
I had made about seven miles up the glacier 
and decided to bivouac for the night. I would 
have gone further that evening, but old “Kah- 
Una-Lita” had shaken up his fires, putting on 
the forced draft until a dense volume of black 
smoke rolled forth. Quite contrary to its pre¬ 
vailing direction, the smoke now' drifted off to 
the left across the glacier ahead of me. Its 
density was greater than the atmosphere, for 
it flow'ed along in an immense stream down 
Wrangell's sloping shoulder and off through 
the pass above a small projecting peak. Re¬ 
taining its outline, with a slight undulating 
movement, it resembled some monstrous ser¬ 
pent slowly crawling forth in its nocturnal 
search for prey. The possibility of it changing 
its course and enveloping me in its sinuous 
folds w'as my reason for not attempting a 
higher altitude before dark. Opening my pack, 
I dined on biscuits and “ovis dalli.” That last 
looks good, and to some may app.ear to be an 
item from a French menu, but is only the scien¬ 
tific term for this particular species of sheep. 
The lid from a baking powder can, with some 
lard and a small piece of rag, w'as my alco- 
hog-ic lamp by which I melted snow' for a cup 
of water. Then among the crevasses, near a 
wall of darkened ice, I unrolled my sleeping 
bag on the snow' and craw'led in for the night. 
FRONT OF A MT. WRANGELL GLACIER. 
Photograph by the author. 
