Forest and Stream 
Terms, $3 a Year, 10 Cts. a Copy, • 
Six Months, $1.50. * 
NEW YORK, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 28, 1911. 
VOL. LXXVII.—No. 18. 
No. 127 Franklin St., New York. 
A Sheep Hunter’s Diary 
Pictures and Text by the Judge 
U PON an average map of British Columbia 
there will be found a great area lying be¬ 
tween the Fraser River and the Pacific 
ocean, across which is printed the broad word¬ 
ing, “Mountains and Glaciers.” The fascinating 
generality of this map-maker's description at¬ 
tracted me to the Northwest last summer, accom¬ 
panied by my artist friend, the “Doctor.” To 
begin with, I would state that the Doctor is not 
a doctor, and I am not a judge, these being 
merely brevet titles conferred upon us by the 
Indians in this case, the former in recognition 
of the artist’s medical 
skill in patching up 
their injured hands 
and feet; the latter 
for reasons to this 
deponent unknown. 
We left the Cana¬ 
dian Pacific Railway 
at Lytton and took 
the early morning 
stage for Lilooet, 
fifty miles north. The 
stage road runs along 
high above the Fraser 
River, now and then 
swinging around the 
face of a precipice a 
thousand feet above 
the water, with the 
ponies on a sharp trot 
and every passenger 
frozen to his seat, his 
heart in his mouth. 
Far below the mighty 
river boils and plunges along, while at the tail of 
every rapid there lies in the water a dark cloud 
of salmon, waiting to try the ascent. At every 
accessible pool are seen camped one or two In¬ 
dian families, spearing salmon by the hundreds, 
slicing out of them the splendid red steaks and 
throwing the great fish, three-quarters unused, 
back into the water. 
We arrived at Lilooet about sunset, rattling 
noisily up the single street and slamming the 
mail bags off on to the stoop of the one hotel. 
In addition to this hostelry the business district 
of the town consists of a mining office, a general 
store and about seven “booze emporiums,” at 
which the mining population from the nearby 
creeks are accustomed to uproariously slake their 
thirst on Saturday nights. About 1849 there were 
great doings up the Fraser River, and almost 
every sandbar along the river at that time or 
since has been sluiced for gold. Placer mining, 
however, has now largely given way to quartz 
mining, which is still conducted on a consider¬ 
able scale all through the Fraser River country. 
Here at Lilooet we met our Indians, Jack, 
James and Napoleon, who had been engaged 
many weeks before by telegraph. 
Aug. 24.-—Pulled out for the north. Thirteen 
pack horses were sent along Seton Lake to the 
Mission over a very bad trail. The baggage was 
sent up the lake by steamer. Mountains rose 
sheer from the lake on every side, and back 
through the high passes might be seen snowy 
peaks and blue glaciers, grandeur beyond descrip¬ 
tion. At the Mission we met the pack train and 
climbed steadily up from the lake all the after¬ 
noon, camping just over the pass, facing Bridge 
River. The night was very cold, and I was 
mighty glad I had purchased a wolf skin sleep¬ 
ing robe at Tacoma. 
Aug. 25.—Crossed Bridge River and trailed up 
the river all day, passing Grant White’s ranch 
just at evening in a light rain. Made camp at 
Tyaughton Creek and were favored with a call 
from Liza, a Lilooet squaw from whom Jack had 
bought onions and potatoes on previous trips, and 
who came into camp bearing a big sack of car¬ 
rots, onions and potatoes for our use. “Klahowa,” 
said she, in the soft Chinook jargon, “I’m see it 
some stranger come by; I’m like come see it.” 
Liza particularly cautioned us not to let the 
potatoes freeze, and we found subsequently that 
the only method of preventing this was to divide 
them into two sacks and take them to bed with 
us. Potatoes possess a very limited amount of 
animal heat and make poor bedfellows. 
Aug. 26.—Rain all gone, a clear cold morning 
“Nesika Klatawah tenas sahalie.” All day toil¬ 
ing westward and upward, a twenty-mile pull 
through Long Climb Valley to camp at the sum¬ 
mit, close to timber line, elevation estimated at 
4,500 feet; a gorgeous vista of mountain and 
valley at our feet and glistening snow fields all 
around, fringed with lovely beds of wild flowers. 
Ail day to-day we traveled through berry patches 
—sarvis berries, high- 
bush cranberries, 
“moosalum,” thimble, 
red raspberry, salmon 
berries and higher up 
huckleberries; Doctor 
and I hustling along 
ahead of the pack 
train to gain time for 
a ten-minute pause 
every hour to fill up 
in some particularly 
fine berry patch. 
Aug. 27.—A mighty 
cold night last night. 
Napoleon roused us 
by pounding on the 
frying-pan with a 
frozen dish rag. A 
wonderful sunrise, 
lighting up the snowy 
peaks along the hori¬ 
zon across Bridge 
River Valley. We 
now passed up into the country above timber line, 
where the silence was broken only by the occas¬ 
ional clear musical whistle of a gray marmot; 
Doctor and I in the lead, with the pack horses 
winding along the trail behind, encouraged by Jack 
and Napoleon, who occasionally addressed them 
with much emphasis in Chinook jargon or Lilooet 
upon the subject of stopping to crop the rich 
grass in the little green meadows below the 
snow fields, or lying down to roll with their 
packs on. 
This morning we saw our first ptarmigan 
among the low shrubs along the edge of a snow 
field, and soon afterward, far ahead through 
the glasses, we saw a wolverine playing about 
in a little valley; but before our horses, ridden 
hard, had been able to bring us within rifle shot, 
he had scampered across the valley to safety 
within the thick forest. 
For an hour or more we made our way across 
LILOOET. 
