780 
FOREST AND STREAM 
was getting late and we had to find the camp or 
lay out all night, which was not a pleasant 
thought. We pushed on. 
At 'first I thought my legs would never carry 
me up the mountain, and many times I gritted 
my teeth, stuck my head into the wind and just 
bycked the slope; then I noticed that Manson 
was beginning to slack up and then he began 
complaining of the rubber mocassins he was 
wearing. This seemed to give me renewed 
strength. 
When we finally reached the top at 4:4s P. M., 
both of us were pretty well played out, the last 
part of the climb being made in a mechanical 
way. 
Manson began cursing that there was no camp 
in sight anywhere, and allowed we would have 
to lay out all night for a “rotten old goat." 
We thought we heard the horse bell, but 
couldn’t locate the sound; then we lost it and 
were uncertain whether we were right or wrong. 
The wind was blowing a gaie, so that we had 
to sleep, but at last fell into a sound sleep, when 
suddenly I was awakened by a crash and realized 
our tent was down. Before I could move Uebe 
and Pop were out, working on raising it, and 
finally succeeded, and back to sleep we all went 
again, when crash down came the tent for the 
second time; again out jumped Uebe. This time 
Pop suggested it was up to me to help. 
I reluctantly got out of my bag and then out 
of t'he tent. The cold was something frightful; 
it just numbed me. Uebe was working hard on 
the lines, and had raised the tent, and about all 
1 did was to stand about and cuss. 
On the next day we ran directly into a band 
of eighteen sheep, five of them rams, but they 
were off and away before Uebe could get his 
rifle out. Then shortly after that we started a 
coyote and my sides shook with laughter, as I 
watched Manson, (to whom I handed my gun) 
with Uebe and Pop bombard the animal, and 
all to no purpose. 
Later in the afternoon I spied a huge bunch 
game disappeared, which showed plainly they 
were on their migration to the Fraser Valley. 
That night we camped on Alexander Creek. 
Bridge River was finally reached and followed 
up about eight miles, where we camped opposite 
a snow-capped mountain which Manson called 
Forbes Mountain. This camp was destined to 
be our last, and we named it Goat Camp. 
Wednesday, October 29th, was our first day in 
Goat Camp, and it. was spent in spying the 
mountains across the river and in building a 
raft. 
Bridge River at the point where we camped, 
was about a quarter of a mile in width. The 
water was a milky color and ice cold, for like 
most of the streams and rivers in this district, 
its source was a glacier. 
Manson and I walked up the road about three 
miles, and spied the mountains, carefully locat¬ 
ing some ten bands of goats. Upon our return 
to camp, I got out my 22, and brought in nine 
showshoe rabbits, which with some Dolly Varden 
to put our heads down and buck it. We spread 
out, Manson going down the lower part of the 
bowl, while I went to the right, the direction 
from which I thought I had heard that bell. 
As it was now dusk and still no sign of the 
camp, things began to look pretty good for an 
all-night affair. 
My eyes in some mysterious manner seemed 
to be drawn to the skyline directly opposite, and 
there silhouetted stood the old Gray Kitchen 
horse, and the bell rang out good and clear- It 
took but a short time to find Manson and to 
quickly locate the camp, which we reached after 
dark. 
Uebe and Pop had become nervous at our ab¬ 
sence, especially as they were aware of the 
change in the camping ground from the instruc¬ 
tions given by Manson. It seemed Jim didn’t 
think the place Manson told him to camp looked 
as good as where they located. 
That was the best looking camp I ever saw, 
and I can trutTiiully say that I lay down in front 
of the fire with a sigh of relief. 
By the time we turned in the gale had increased 
to a good sixty miles, with a fine snow and the 
thermometer rapidly falling. 
At first I turned from side to side, too tired 
of ptarmigan on the edge of a glacier, and while 
I was popping away at them, Uebe and Manson 
left the horses and started to circle around in 
front of a high peak in hopes of seeing some 
sheep. 
I had cleaned up quite a few ptarmigan and 
was out of cartridges, when I heard Jim whistle 
and point up the side of a peak directly in front 
of us. There stood three bands of ewes, some 
thirty in all, and lower down and nearer, two 
magnificent rams with poor Uebe miles away. 
On our fourth day, we started directly up the 
highest part of the Divide, which has a large 
glacier on one side, and is called “Wind Moun¬ 
tain” by the Indians, as there is a legend to the 
effect that anyone rolling a stone down the 
glacier will make the mountain mad and a severe 
wind will start. 
The trail runs along the edge of the glacier 
and was covered with fresh snow. The climb 
was very steep, and a misstep by either man or 
beast would have been the end. The Indians 
were clearly frightened, and were jabbering away 
to one another, while Manson laughed and led on. 
We reached the top at eleven o’clock without 
mishap. 
With the crossing of the divide all signs of 
trout caught on a drop line, gave us quite a 
needed change of diet, though Creekwah was still 
in possession of some of the ram’s fat with 
which to flavor it. 
At our evening confab it was decided that 
Uebe would go with David in the morning after 
a bunch of goats about 2,000 feet up, while Pop 
and I were to go to the top with Manson and 
Jim. 
Manson remarked, as we had the matter under 
discussion, “That mountain doesn’t look very 
much from here, but wait until you tackle it, 
it’s hell! We have over 6,500 feet to climb before 
we get up to the level of those billys, and then 
some stalk. If you do get up to the top, I will 
then tell you how the mountain came to be called 
after one of your prominent Americans named 
Forbes, who hunted with me some ten years 
ago.” 
At 4.30, after a moonlight breakfast, we were 
off, with Manson hustling us with all possible 
speed.- Now, as to that climb, when I look back 
on it, I cannot really believe we ever made it, 
but we did, and what is more, would have made 
excellent time, except for Jim, who had been in 
more or less distress on the way up, and finally 
