268 
FOREST AND S T R E A M 
May, 1918 
and deep ravines—rock slides and alder 
thickets, looking all so easy to climb 
through from below. Sheep we saw 
through our glasses and a black bear near 
a little waterfall. Andy said he knew of 
a good place to camp, at the other end of 
the lake, so we picked our way over the 
rocks along the shore and struck camp on 
a rise overlooking another little lake be¬ 
yond. Before night we mapped out a 
trail to timber line 
through the alders 
and returned to camp 
in anxious anticipa¬ 
tion of the morrow, 
when hunting would 
actually commence 
and all the hard work 
of getting into the 
country w o u 1 d be 
consummated. So we 
rested that night at 
our permanent camp 
in the sheep range— 
happy hours—looking 
back on the work well 
done and ahead to 
hours of exhilarating 
joy up on the peaks. 
We kept our glasses 
busy scanning the 
slopes for game, pick¬ 
ing out little white 
specks and watching 
them evolve into 
rams or ewes—look¬ 
ing again and again 
at the black bear by the waterfall and final¬ 
ly, as darkness shut down, we talked in 
suppressed excitement around the fire of 
our plans for the morrow. 
It rained a little that night and the wind 
tugged at our tent but the morning 
dawned clear and bright. Tom and 
Walter started back on the long trail to 
Skilak Lake for more provisions and the 
bigger tent and stove, while Andy, Mac- 
kay, Ben and I filed away toward the place 
of ascent and were soon toiling upward 
through the alders and devils’ club that 
blocked our way. As we came over a lit¬ 
tle rise Andy, who was leading, suddenly 
stopped and" beckoned us to approach 
quietly. We looked over and there about 
a hundred yards away stood a yearling 
bear looking straight at us. He started 
around a hugh boulder, Mackay firing as 
lie disappeared. 
Having gained the top of the first bench 
overlooking a plateau which stretched 
toward the higher peaks, we rested and 
searched the mountain across the river 
with our glasses, discovering a huge brown 
bear feeding in a berry patch and a flock 
of sheep crossing in single file a snow 
slide far above. We now mapped out our 
campaign for the day’s hunt and as a re¬ 
sult Mackay and Andy started off around 
the base of the lofty cliffs to the east, and 
Ben and I climbed straight up to the top, 
planning to hunt along the ridge of the 
tallest mountain. It certainly seemed as 
if we would never reach the top, as each 
suceeding rise brought into view still 
higher slopes to climb, but at last, about 
noon, we found that the land sloped away 
from us on all sides. We looked down 
into the Benjamin Creek valley on the 
north while away to the south we traced 
the Killev river, winding like a silver 
thread from its source in Bear Glacier. 
We had seen a band of sheep on our way 
up crossing a long piece of snow about a 
mile away and had noticed them gather on 
a grassy patch among the rocks and start 
to feed, we had also seen two rams a little 
further away, but none with heads that 
satisfied Ben, so we had not diverged from 
our course to the summit. 
In climbing over the rocks we had dis¬ 
turbed many marmots, and their sharp 
whistle is one of the sounds that haunts 
the hunter in high altitudes, sharp and 
clear it rings out in unexpected places. We 
passed numerous little holes in the moun¬ 
tain side, each the home of one of these 
strange little animals. Sometimes we 
would catch sight of them diving into the 
ground only a few feet ahead of us. We 
passed close by a porcupine which stupid¬ 
ly watched us without any signs of fear, 
crawling slowly away among the rocks. 
Ravens hovered above us uttering harsh 
croaks, seemingly well aware that the mis¬ 
sion we were on meant food for them. 
Bald headed eagles circled far above, sail¬ 
ing high over all the drama of the hunt. 
The friendly rock ptarmigan sprang up or 
ran along ahead, chuckling and scolding at 
our approach, but Ben said they were much 
scarcer than usual, as some scourge had 
wrought havoc among their flocks. 
W E paused for lunch near a snow slide 
and ate our cheese sandwiches and 
drank the icy water which Ben dug 
for among the rocks, then lit our pipes and 
studied the surrounding country carefully 
through our glasses. Ben discovered two 
rams, probably the ones that we had seen 
during our climb, walking along the crest 
about three-quarters of a mile away, and said 
that after they had gone over the top we 
would follow them and see what lay be¬ 
yond. When they disappeared we started 
tacking across the slope, climbing over 
rough loose stones until we came to a 
path worn deep by the feet of sheep for 
many generations. Following this path we 
soon reached the ridge but saw nothing of 
our rams. Looking down a steep preci¬ 
pice into Benjamin Creek Basin we noted a 
few sheep on the hills beyond and one or 
two away down in the depth of the basin, 
but none near at hand, so we kept on 
along the rim, reveling in the glorious 
sunshine and the wide panorama that 
spread out around us. Oh! the glory of 
the walk that day along the ridge of the 
world, up among the silent peaks of dawn, 
the wide spaces of the wilderness below 
and the bare rock fastness ever luring us 
on through the luminous brightness of the 
mountain sunshine; breasting the keen 
winds of the upper air, crossing long 
slopes of hard snow, 
packed solidly in the 
hollows. Here in¬ 
deed was beauty im¬ 
bued with strength— 
the strength of the 
hills. The joy of the 
chase, born so long 
ago in the heart of 
primeval man rose up 
within me, and I knew 
that it was good to 
hunt in the white 
sheep range. 
Early in the after¬ 
noon we came to the 
edge of a steep de¬ 
scent toward the val¬ 
ley of the Killev and 
looking over beheld 
far below, like two 
little specks, Mackay 
and Andy. They had 
worked around to¬ 
ward Bear Glacier 
and were trying to 
get near a band of 
sheep which kept gaining on them. In 
a few moments we saw Mackay raise 
his gun and fire. The band broke up and 
ran in different directions, two rams com¬ 
ing straight up toward us. We hoped that 
they would cross within range but we were 
doomed to disappointment as we watched 
them turn and disappear around a pro¬ 
jecting crag. Later we crossed the trail of 
an ewe, evidently one of the band Mackay 
had fired into. She was leaping down hill 
with great bounds over very rough ground 
starting an avalanche of small stones roll¬ 
ing down after her. It was astonishing 
how fast and accurately she traveled. 
Coming homeward we saw two ewes 
feeding below us so we changed our direc¬ 
tion somew'hat and steered a course that 
would bring us out near them, thinking 
perhaps there might be rams near by. As 
we came over a crest we were surprised 
to see two large rams moving off about 
four hundred yards away. It was useless 
to try and get any nearer to them as they 
had seen us so I fired a chance shot at the 
bigger one which only hurried them along. 
Just after firing we saw three more cross¬ 
ing a snow slope about half a mile away 
and I could see through my glasses that 
they had very large horns. “There’s your 
limit all in a bunch,” said Ben. It was a 
splendid sight to see them sharply cut 
against the rock, moving along in a stately 
manner. I was thrilled with an inde¬ 
scribable feeling of admiration for their 
easy grace. It was too late in the day to 
follow them so I watched them disappear 
among the rocks as we turned toward 
camp, sliding and scrambling down a very 
steep decline. 
The sun had set and the low lying clouds 
and snow crests turned a beautiful crim- 
som as the long northern twilight crept 
across the land. Beyond the canyon of the 
The horns measured thirteen inches around the base and made a full circle 
