June, 1918 
FOREST AND STREAM 
339 
ciently close to shoot from when Ben sud¬ 
denly stopped and whispered to me to ap¬ 
proach quietly and look over the top of a 
draw near him. I worked my way to where 
he was standing and glancing over saw a 
large ram about five hundred yards below 
me standing on a rocky pinnacle. Seen 
through the mist from above he appeared 
to carry much larger horns than the other 
one, so we decided on him. The wind at 
times necessitated our holding on for dear 
life to any creviet we could find in the wall 
of rock we were working our way along. 
For a few moments I experienced a sicken¬ 
ing sense of fear as I saw Ben proceed 
steadily out toward the farthermost pin¬ 
nacle of rock. I remember thinking that T 
must follow him of 
course, but I was far 
from experiencing a 
sense of comfort. 
Out Ben crawled 
and out I followed; 
choosing each step 
with care, bracing 
ourselves against 
the fury of the 
wind. At last Ben 
stopped and beck¬ 
oned for me to 
climb by him. I 
managed to squeeze 
a little way beyond 
and lying down flat 
on a large rock I pulled myself to the edge 
and peered over. As I did so I saw a ram 
with immense horns rise up almost straight 
down below me. He had been lying on a 
narrow' ledge of rock out of the wind. He 
started to walk slowly along the ledge 
sending small stones and gravel rattling 
down over the precipice, picking his steps 
in a way that fascinated me. Taking quick 
aim I sent a bullet just over his head into 
the rock fastness 
below, then firing 
with more delibera¬ 
tion I placed a lead¬ 
en missile crashing 
through his neck 
and over he went, 
rolling and sliding 
down the precipi¬ 
tous incline for a 
thousand feet or 
more. 
We managed to 
work our way doWn 
to him somehow, 
probably taking 
chances in our elated 
condition that we 
would not have 
dared to take at any other time—but, here 
was the crowning glory of our hunt—a 
monarch ram of the mountains lying dead in 
a little pocket below us and we slid impetu¬ 
ously down upon him. He lay doubled up 
in a heap, head tucked under him. When 
we had straightened him out we discovered 
with some disappointment that he did not 
have such large horns as we had thought. 
Looking down through the magnifying 
nist we had been easily deceived as to 
heir size. I also found that I had chipped 
me of the horns in the back as the bullet 
iad passed through the head behind the 
ight ear and down through the neck. Then 
realized that it was my third and last 
am. Still the glamour of the stalk and the 
leculiar circumstances connected with it 
made it of especial value to me. Taking out 
my little tape I found that his measure¬ 
ments were twelve and three-quarter inches 
around the base of horns, spread seventeen 
and three-quarter inches and circle thirty- 
three inches. One of his front feet had 
been crushed some time, as it was quite 
badly deformed, but had grown into a firm, 
hard mass, covered with muscle showing 
how nature adapts herself to circumstances. 
It was good to be down from the crags 
out of the wind, and we spent some time 
preparing the head and cape, adjusting it 
neatly on Ben’s shoulders for the long 
tramp to the bottom land. Although my 
sheep hunt was over and I knew that no 
matter how many wonderful rams I should 
see now I must let them go, the bands of 
sheep were just as interesting to watch as 
they appeared from time to time on the 
mountains opposite. The scenery was just 
as beautiful as before. The short Alaskan 
autumn was clothing the wilderness with 
beauty. We passed great patches of scar¬ 
let grass lying like splashes of blood on 
the mountain side. Birch and alder were 
striped with yellow, standing out in strong 
contrast to the dark green of the spruces. 
High up in the heavens occasional flocks 
of geese were winging southward, honking 
faintly from afar. As we entered the tim¬ 
ber, pushing our way through the dwarf 
willow and alder thickets, we noticed wild 
currants hanging in clusters among the 
windfalls, tempting us to feast frequently 
on this welcome change to our diet. 
Thus we journeyed downward through 
the late afternoon light, body and mind 
turned alike to the spell of the wilderness 
and a sense of satisfaction stole over me 
as we neared camp and I caught sight of its 
spark-dotted smoke arising on the chill 
evening air. It was good to be back in its 
shelter once more and sit by the fire watch¬ 
ing Walt prepare the evening meal. About 
dark Mackay and Andy returned, having 
spent a hard but glorious day on the moun¬ 
tains, seeing many sheep but not the wound¬ 
ed one nor the big old ram they were hop¬ 
ing to run across. At one time they came 
almost face to face with a giant bull moose, 
but his massive antlers were still in velvet, 
so they let him de¬ 
part in peace. 
turned in 
early and 
were soon 
deep in sleep. About 
midnight I was 
aroused by a voice 
which seemed miles 
away, shouting 
something about get¬ 
ting up and the word 
Brownie was borne 
in upon my fast re¬ 
turning conscious¬ 
ness. I sat up in 
my sleeping bag and saw my companions 
pulling on their clothes at a great rate and 
Ben standing at the entrance to the tent 
with a candle in his hand. I was fully 
awake in a moment and Ben said that a 
brown bear was nosing about in the alders 
behind his tent, evidently trying to get after 
the mutton we had hanging in camp. I 
hastily pulled on my shoepacs and a few 
clothes and, taking my gun, joined the 
others as they filed 
out into the chill 
night air. “Here, 
Andy, hold this 
light,” said Ben as 
he led the way 
toward his tent, and 
Andy took the can¬ 
dle, which Ben had 
stuck into a tin can 
for reflection, rather 
reluctantly as he 
glanced toward his 
rifle hanging by the 
tent. We were all 
shaking,—from the 
cold, of course,—and 
all the stories I had 
ever heard about the 
ferociousness of the brown bear crowded 
into my mind. “Let’s get together,” said 
Mackay, “if there is going to be any lead 
flying around here I want the bear to get 
it all.” We advanced in noble array toward 
Ben’s tent, which stood about twenty yards 
away from ours and Andy bravely flashed 
the weak light all around. Ben threw sev¬ 
eral logs of wood into the brush behind his 
tent and we heard a cracking of dry sticks. 
I fully expected to see a great ball of 
brown fur fly straight out of the darkness 
at me, but nothing happened and finally 
Ben said: “I guess he has gone off.” We 
were quite content to accept his conclusion 
and go back to bed. 
We invited Ben to spend the rest of the 
(continued on page 366) 
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,, 
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No soft cushioned chair ever felt as good as did the resting places after a hard 
trudge across the roof of the world 
1 
