After Bighorn in the Rockies. 
Out from the ranch house and in the gray 
dawn of an October morning in Montana, Tom 
and I started lightly equipped on a dash for 
sheep over the continental divide. 
We struck out at a sharp trot past the corral 
where the cow-ponies gazed wonderingly at us, 
the smoke from our pipes hanging in a blue haze 
behind us. Our way led through a series of 
parks until we struck the mountain timber where 
we were forced to go slower, although the trail 
at this point blazed by the forest rangers was 
found several patches of snowy white fleece of 
the mountain goat hanging to the bushes on the 
slope, while below in the burnt timber the ground 
was literally cut up with elk and blacktail tracks, 
and once while passing the dry bed of a stream 
we saw the tracks of old Ephraim, made the 
week before. 
Bird life was also in evidence. Familiar little 
chickadees flitted before us in the brush and 
hung head downward from a twig, followed by 
the nuthatch. Canada jays—the moose bird of 
the North, the camp robber of the Rockies—were 
usually in evidence round the camps, together 
We had a hard climb back to our ponies, 
we had to fairly force them against the ; 
and down the further side of the divide t 
we were again lost in the timber, guided i 
by the occasional blazed spruce or yellow j 
The forest was dense and desolate. No lr 
thing met our gaze as we wound along the t 
ever growing harder and extending always dc 
ward, sometimes past damp parks; the 
spruces growing there hung thick with r 
and the grass long, wiry and matted. Again 
crossed some mountain stream and lingere 
moment to quench our thirst, using our hat b 
for a cup in mountain fashion. Our cow-pc 
and pack animals seemed much at home 
never slipped or faltered, even in the stee 
places, where we could put out a hand and t< 
the ground behind. Nothing bothered them 
cept when they passed between the trees so 
together that the pack offered resistance. V 
this happened 'it always resulted in a wild 
forward, and amid much scraping and ban 
of our pots and pans, the passage was made 
our march continued. 
Now, all this is well enough for a pack hi 
but when you offer resistance instead of a i 
the same wild leap is taken and it requires 1 
gymnastics in a saddle to avoid a dislocated 1 
I breathed a sigh of relief when we at 
reached the gulch, and fording the rapid m 
tain torrent passed up a series of parks 
at dusk we found one with sufficient foo 
satisfy our beasts. While Tom was overl 
ing our packs and spreading a tent cloth or 
ground for our beds, I started a fire and 
had some venison sizzling and potatoes spt 
ing, with the water for the coffee and the 
boiling furiously. Tom finished his work in 
to make some delicious camp bread, anc 
feasted until we were actually ashamed to 
tinue'. 
PACK TRAIN CROSSING SLIDE ROCK. 
fairly well defined. We walked behind our labor¬ 
ing ponies and shortly after noon we reached 
the summit opposite old Scapegoat, its rugged 
head rising above us on the east, the fissures and 
north slopes covered with snow. Range after 
range, snow-capped and vast, stretched away on 
all sides until lost in the blue haze of distance, 
while far eastward beyond the bad lands lay the 
purple of the great plains. Above us floated a 
solitary golden eagle. 
A biting wind came from the northwest. We 
guided our willing ponies into a pine thicket, 
dismounted and with our glasses scanned the 
slopes and slide rock of the adjacent mountain¬ 
sides in search of some stray mountain goat. 
As we wanted meat, we climbed down into a 
park far below us in the hope of securing a 
blacktail that would replenish our larder and 
at the same time furnish a good grizzly bait, as 
we were in a famous bear country. Luck seemed 
against us. The wind, which as a rule drift; 
up the mountains during the day and down at 
night, came in eddying gusts from all directions, 
so it was impossible fo hunt to windward. We 
with the Steller’s jay and an occasional Clark’s 
crow—a very self-satisfied bird whose erratic 
existence is more confined to the mountaintops 
where they fuss and croak and toss about in the 
wind, their wings making a hollow sound as they 
fly, woodpecker-like, to some pine. The ravens 
were a surprise. I had expected to see numbers 
of them, but excepting at the ranch, none was 
seen on our whole trip except when game was 
killed and there half a dozen would be assembled 
on the following day. Where they came from 
I do not know. Sparrow hawks were quite 
numerous on the mountain tops and one goshawk 
was observed. Three varieties of grouse were 
present. The ruffed grouse, like ours in the 
East, are the most wary, and when flushed will 
not always alight in trees; the blue mountain 
grouse, a magnificent strong flying bird which 
can usually be shot either on the ground before 
flight or from some pine, their heads offering 
no easy mark for a high-power rifle; the Frank¬ 
lin grouse or fool hen can in my experience always 
be approached and killed with a stick. All are 
called “chickens” by the ranchers and cow men. 
The next morning dawned clear and cole 
hasty breakfast over, we struck up the mou 
and reached the summit after three hour 
steady plodding. Here we followed the 
back for miles, up and down over boulders 
peaks, climbing down places where our 
were continually being passed to the one b 
and so on for the whole day. Sheep signs, 
ever present, but a week old. We finally < 
up in a park three miles from camp and dr; 
ourselves into camp after dark, half fami 
having had neither food nor drink since r 
ing. I never before believed the stateme 
an authority that an Indian had eaten eig, 
pounds of beef at a sitting, but I freely ack 
edge I was in error. 
We shifted our outfit and tried another 
next morning with the result that by ev 
we found fresh sheep signs and resolved 
on the morrow we would make every at 
to secure a shot. Did you ever have a 1 
break as you were about to land a big fish: 
end to our dream of speedy conquest, ai 
heartbreaking climb and finding fresh sign 
hunting into the wind with caution, we 
upon a hobnailed footprint in the hard gt 
