642 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Oct. 28, 1911. 
the face of a mountain which had been torn all 
to pieces with snow slides, and at the bottom of 
the mountain the gulch was filled for 100 feet 
in depth with an amazing tangle of great trees, 
splintered like match sticks, and enormous 
masses of rock and debris. During the after¬ 
noon we dropped down a thousand feet and 
camped at Stick Lake, with fine trout for supper. 
Aug. 28.-—This morning as we trailed along 
through the pines up Tyaughton Creek we saw 
our first fool hen or sooty grouse, and further 
up a fine flock of blue mountain grouse. The 
curious Clark’s crows, more like a magpie than 
a crow, called to each other and flapped aim¬ 
lessly about, crowlike, at very safe distances 
among the tops of the low pines. Here and there 
a golden eagle was seen circling slowly on high 
in search of a wild lamb or kid for his vora¬ 
cious brood safely nested among the cliffs, or 
playing in the wind as crows often do, plunging 
down a steep descent on rigid pinions at high 
speed, then turning swiftly upward with closed 
wings, carried aloft by his momentum, a black 
dart flying heavenward. 
Swinging westerly we left the trail altogether 
and passed off into a country of no trails, save 
those made by the sheep and goats and mule 
deer, through a wide spreading high mountain 
valley brilliant with the fine Indian pinks and 
numerous other wild flowers, up over Osborn’s 
Pass, then pitching down across the sliderock 
into Jack’s Valley. Here we made a fine perma¬ 
nent camp arnong the stunted pines near an icy 
stream of clear water which emerged from a 
small glacier a quarter mile up back of camp. 
The packs work finely now. All the baggage has 
been adjusted in good shape and the horses have 
quit bucking. 
Aug. 29.—A grand morning in our lovely va'- 
ley at the head of which, four or five miles above 
camp, towers up boldly a black mountain, tier 
upon tier of beetling broken cliffs, upon each 
side flanked by shining blue glaciers, and at the 
foot of each a little emerald green lake out of 
which trickles a stream of white glacier water. 
Doctor makes out a white goat reclining upon 
one of the cliffs. After much study with the 
glasses there is considerable difference of opinion 
as to whether it is a goat or snow. Jack says 
the rule is to watch him until he melts or moves. 
If he melts before he moves he is snow. 
We are just in the tip end of the summer days, 
and while the nights are co’d, the days are bright 
and warm, and bring out quite a brood of tiny 
and very poisonous mosquitoes, singing no song, 
but attending strictly to business. 
While Napoleon gets breakfast I have been 
scanning the steep sides of the valley for game, 
and finally locate two miles down the val'ey on 
the northwest mountain five “sheep” trailing 
along, which, however, Jack immediately declares 
to be “mowitch”; and sure enough upon more 
careful examination I discover that they are mule 
deer stags; they are soon joined by four more, a 
band of nine beautiful animals led by a splen¬ 
did veteran, going up across the bare sliderock 
to a little green patch of grass and stunted pines 
to lie down during the day away from the flies. 
We have made a lean-to, covered by a tent-fly, 
for a cook camp, and have built just outside the 
front edge of it a little crib of six-inch pine logs 
about 3 by 6 and 30 inches high, filling it with 
small stones and coarse gravel. Upon this our 
small four-legged grate is pitched, and it makes 
a wonderful camp stove, just at the right height 
for fancy cooking, with plenty of room for hot 
pots and dishes on each end. Fifteen feet away 
our big camp-fire is built for cheer and warmth 
during the cool evenings. As I sit after luncheon 
viewing the results of our handiwork and enjoy¬ 
ing that delicious appetite for pipe smoke which 
only the wilderness life can confer, I remark: 
“I am glad my pipe came along,” and Doctor 
says: “My pipe is giad it came along, too.” 
Doctor, who spent a year among the Hopi 
Indians in Arizona, learning to speak their lan¬ 
guage perfectly, has started in to teach Jack to 
speak Hopi. Jack makes astonish ng progress 
in it, immediately catching the accents and pro- 
THE SHEEP COUNTRY FROM JACK’S PASS. 
nunciation, which arc quite beyond me, and old 
Napoleon regards it all as a great joke, croaking 
like a raven every now and then as Doctor and 
Jack fling Hopi phrases at each other. 
At 3 o’clock Jack says to me: “Let’s go up 
on top.” Sure enough away up on top above 
the sliderock, where no horses can get, is a great 
wide plateau surrounded by glaciers, and sloping 
up, up; covered with mosses and many colored 
tiny flowers of great beauty, and below us every¬ 
where the mountain tops and great valleys. To 
the west a vast abyss, dark and forbidding, be¬ 
yond which Jack says lies Grant White’s illahe, 
where he will be hunting the sheep by the middle 
of September. 
Coming back we spy, crossing the sliderock 
above their little green mid-day resting place, 
four of our mule deer bucks playing and fighting 
together. Then shortly afterward on top, cross¬ 
ing the plateau, five more, one fine stag, within 
rifle shot, and the open season still two days off. 
Back to camp, plunging down the long s’ide 
in ten-foot jumps, watching carefully against 
turning an ankle. The sliderock is a good friend 
when dry. Back down to camp and a wonderful 
dinner from our fine commissary, including a 
lovely mess of spaghetti au gratin, which is al¬ 
most too good to eat. 
I find that my clothes and shoes are all right 
for the climbing. The stout woolen knicker¬ 
bockers and the English puttees—taken upon the 
advice of an English sheep hunter—aje really 
wonderful, and the chill wind on top is kept out 
by the light Swedish dogskin hunting shirt, worn 
outside my trousers like a Chinaman’s biouse 
and belted in at the waist when the wind blows 
high. This turns the wind as well as buckskin 
and turns the rain also, which buckskin will not 
do. Also the bolt action magazine rifle, short 
and light, with sling for the back for use in 
steep climbing, is indeed the real thing. 
Aug. 30.—Three weeks ago to-night we left 
Boston. It seems three months. In this remote 
place, amid surroundings utterly wild and 
wholly untouched by the hand of man, one is as 
far removed from the world as if located upon 
the planet Mars or in the mountains of the moon. 
Such a wonderful moonrise as there was in 
our little valley last night! Mars climbing the 
back of the black easterly mountain, while the 
g aciers shone at the south with a weird light, 
and the great dipper hung over the high canon 
wall back of camp. No sound save the snoring 
of our little glacier as we lay and listened. 
To-day we are going fishing down the valley 
four miles or so, to the junction of Jack’s Creek 
and White’s Creek. There are no trout around 
camp or above camp toward the glacier, as none 
of these streams contains trout until it has got 
four or five miles away from the glacier and 
been able to accumulate food. Strangely enough, 
this stream seemed to us to rather decrease in 
size as we got further down. Upon calling Jack's 
attention to this fact and demanding reasons, he 
explained the phenomenon with much gravity, 
saying: “You see, Judge, a good deal water is 
dry up, some is run into de groun’, and de fishes 
is drink a good deal.” 
Jack says White’s Creek comes down through 
a long valley, is fed by springs and is clear and 
contains trout. We find this to be true, but they 
are remarkably well-informed trout considering 
their lack of opportunities, and take practically 
no fly except the royal coachman, and that only 
at the foot of the pools. We got two dozen nice 
ones, and on the way back this evening, just on 
the edge of the timber line, jumped three mule 
deer, one stag and two beautiful spotted fawns, 
but the season does not open until day after to¬ 
morrow. Back to camp at dusk; a fine day. 
Napoleon has made bread. 
Aug. 31.—A marvelous morning. Just like 
Arizona. A Canada jay came in for breakfast, 
and finding none, tried the toilet soap. This 
suited him finely and he went away and brought 
back a friend, and they both filled up on soap. 
After breakfast they became most friendly, sub¬ 
mitting everything in the camp to an intimate in¬ 
spection, until finally one of them happened to 
alight on the edge of a hot kettle, when they 
both lit out, swearing hard. 
This reminded Doctor of a camp he had years 
ago near Mount St. Helens in Washington, which 
was so infested with Canada jays that he used 
to catch them and paint their legs red for iden¬ 
tification. Upon returning next year he was 
