Jan. i8, 1913 
FOREST AND STREAM 
73 
READY FOR THE START. 
Sheep Hunting Around Alaska’s Highest Volcano 
By HARRY G. SCHAUPP 
In Two Parts—Part Two 
one point was a long snowy slope leading 
down to the basin. To expedite matters 
I suggested sliding down this with the 
sheep, but Lou thought it a little risky, and pre¬ 
ferred a more roundabout way over the rocks. 
I then took both sheep and started down, but 
got stuck at one place for lack of sufficient 
grade. So taking one sheep I gave it a good 
start and let it scoot down alone and then slid 
down with the other. 
Arriving at the bottom we slung the sheep 
on our backs and started down the basin. ■ This 
soon drew in to a narrow gulch until it finally 
was just the creek bed with steep almost pre¬ 
cipitous sides. It was growing dark and cold 
and the boulders in the shallow stream were 
coated with ice, which made footing insecure. 
Suddenly we came to an abrupt fall of about 
twelve feet. In the increasing darkness, with 
the icy conditions of the rocks, we did not at¬ 
tempt to descend, but cached our sheep and 
started to climb the ridge on our right to get 
over to the main Dadina. This proved to be 
a greater undertaking than we expected. 
I started straight up, but Lou thought it 
would be easier climbing at an angle, so we sepa¬ 
rated. I finally reached the top, and giving a 
loud coo-ee, received a faint answer from my 
right. It had grown too dark to see the rocks 
at my feet. Starting down along the top of the 
ridge I found that climbing by the sense of 
touch was much easier going up than down a 
steep mountain side. My hands were more sen¬ 
sitive in finding footholds than my feet. I might 
have succeeded better by going down head fore¬ 
most, which I came very near doing. After step¬ 
ping off a three-foot drop and jarring my lum¬ 
bar vertebra considerably, I decided to try going- 
straight down the opposite slope. This was bet¬ 
ter, as there were stunted alders and brush grow¬ 
ing wherever they found root hold. By clinging 
to the brush and sliding and climbing, I could 
always have a foot or hand hold. When my feet 
dangled off into space, I would drop a rock 
down ; if it took too long in striking bottom, I 
would move along to try a new place. I noticed 
that my field glass case seemed very light, and 
on investigation found the lid unbuckled and 
case empty. They were fine day glasses, but 
now it was good-night glasses. 
At 9 p. M. I reached the bottom, where I 
found a patch of spruce timber and built a large 
signal fire for Lou. Shortly afterward I heard 
a faint call far up on the ridge to the left. I 
answered and occasionally heard others, each 
time a little nearer. After a longer interval I 
heard a troubled voice coming out of the dark¬ 
ness above; “How in thunder did you get down? 
Every darned place I try there's a straight drop 
off.” At last he was within easy conversational 
distance. He finally got down to where I was. 
Going out on the open bars we had fair 
traveling, as the sky had commenced to clear, 
and the stars were coming out. The glacial 
stream meandered from one side to the other 
of the wide flats, but we held a straight course, 
fording its icy waters when it crossed our trail. 
About midnight we reached camp, where 
Frank had kept supper warm for us, but had 
finally given up expecting us and turned in for 
the night. We soon had some hot coffee and 
food ready. 
The next day Lou and I took one of the 
pack horses and went back to get the sheep. 
While he went up the side gulch with the horse, 
I went around to our night’s descent to look 
for my field glasses, but failed to find them. 
Lou could not get the horse within a half 
mile of the falls on account of the roughness 
of the canon. He left the horse and went up 
on foot, but found no place by which he could 
climb up at the falls. Fortunately a convenient 
rock stood near the edge, which he lassoed with 
the lash rope he had brought along. By means 
of this he pulled himself to the top and threw 
down the two sheep, which he was relaying to 
the horse when I came up the gulch to meet him. 
We then carried them to the horse, lashing one 
on each side and returned to camp. The failure 
of one particular roll of films, through some un¬ 
known cause or defect, is offered as an apology 
for not presenting more interesting photos. 
Those shown are some of many developed two 
wintry nights in the little log cabin on the Cop¬ 
per, an empty candle box with a door of ruby 
cloth serving as a lantern. Prints were also 
made by candle light; an exposure of eight 
minutes before three lighted candles was re¬ 
quired for some. 
[the end.] 
New Publications. 
“1812,” A Tale of Cape Cod. By Michael 
Fitzgerald. Published by Charles W. Swift, 
Yarmouthport, Mass. $1.25. 
In this stirring tale of Cape Cod, during the 
War of 1812, the author gives us a realistic 
picture of the life of the period. The book will 
be warmly welcomed by every American whose 
patriotic pride is stirred by the recital of heroic 
deeds performed by the men who so valiantly 
struggled against fearful odds in the days when 
the nation was young and comparatively weak. 
The exposed position of Cape Cod rendered it 
peculiarly liable to the attacks of the British 
warships, and the sufferings of the hardy in¬ 
habitants were almost unbearable. 
The author, while not a native of the Cape, 
has lived for many years in the district, and 
his work shows that he is a keen student of 
local history. His treatment of the subject is 
eminently fair. While he does not conceal his 
sympathy for the weaker side, he has not 
painted the British as monsters of iniquity but 
as brave seamen engaged in the uncongenial 
task of harassing defenceless villagers. His 
sketch of Captain Richard Raggett, “Old Dick 
Raggett.” as he was known in the Royal navy, 
is an example of this. 
The action of the narrative is rapid and 
there is an entire absence of “padding” in it. 
The book enters a new field in the literature of 
Cape Cod and deserves a wide reading. 
A Frencfi firm has offered a prize amount¬ 
ing to $2,000 for the first osprey (egret) farm 
established on French territory. 
