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THE WILDERNESS OF
THE UPPER YUKON

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

THE WILDERNESS OF THE NORTH
PACIFIC COAST ISLANDS. Illustrated.
SVOn so. s es Ser einer ye + + « net $2.50

THE WILDERNESS OF
THE UPPER YUKON

A HUNTER’S EXPLORATIONS
FOR WILD SHEEP IN SUB-ARCTIC MOUNTAINS

BY
CHARLES SHELDON

ILLUSTRATED

SECOND EDITION, REVISED

NEW YORK
CHARLES SCEISNEER’S SONS
1919

1919,

CopyriGurt, 1911, 1919, sy
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS

Published September, 1911
Reprinted May, 1913
Second Edition
Published October, 1918

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REN oe

TO
EDWARD W. NELSON

One of the world’s foremost field naturalists, who for thirty
years conducted natural history explorations in the wilder
areas of our continent from Arctic Alaska to Tropical Amer-
ica; who first revealed to science the White Sheep of our
Far North, and collected the types of the Wild Sheep of
the desert ranges of Southern California and Mexico.
His love of the wilderness, his studies in ethnology, his
zest in hunting, exploring, and collecting, his indomit-
able courage, and his high character and nobility of
manhood have been to me an ever-present inspiration.

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PREFACE

Tuts book is a record of my field experiences while
engaged in studying the color variations of the wild sheep
of Yukon Territory. It is an attempt to give a detailed
account strictly from the point of view of a hunter inter-
ested in natural history.

Most parts of the Territory which are inhabited by
sheep are also the favorite abodes of moose and grizzly
bears, and some of them of caribou. The black bear in-
habits the forests everywhere below timber-line; the white
goat lives exclusively in the humid belt of the Coast
ranges. No other game animals exist in the Yukon wil-
derness. Most of the fur-bearing animals of the Hudso-
nian zone are abundant on the timbered slopes immedi-
ately below the sheep ranges. The number of species of
mammals and birds is small.

In the North, wild sheep dwell exclusively on high
mountains, above timber-line, usually well back within
the ranges. Nearly all of the mountains on which I
hunted, with the exception of Plateau Mountain and
those near Watson River, were untrodden by the foot of
white man or Indian. The wilderness was primeval, the
sheep practically undisturbed, the other game animals
seldom hunted. It was not possible to find guides, for
there were none. It was necessary not only to search out
a route to the mountains, but also to find the ranges oc-
cupied by sheep. I have, therefore, adopted the sub-
title, “A Hunter’s Explorations for Wild Sheep in Sub-

Arctic Mountains.”’
Ne

Vill PREFACE

Having made my trips under such conditions, I have
tried to record my experiences when travelling by steam-
boat, canoe, with pack-horses, and on foot; my efforts to
find game and the details of hunting it; and a faithful
account of the actions of all animals observed. To this
I have added descriptions of the country traversed, my
impressions of the scenery, and notes on the weather; so
that the book might present a picture of the wilderness
of Yukon Territory.

All of my actual hunting has been done alone, with-
out guide or companion. For the purpose of keeping a
record, each day’s experiences and observations were writ-
ten in my journal before retiring to sleep. ‘The excep-
tions to this practice were very rare.

A portion of these journals relates to the habits of
animals. In view of subsequent experiences, however, I
regard those gained in Yukon Territory merely asa train-
ing in observation—a perspective for more correctly inter-
preting the observed traits and life histories of animals.
This was a great help during the two following years (in-
cluding the whole of one) which were spent in the interior
of Alaska, where the same animals were much more
abundant. For this reason, I have touched only sug-
gestively on habits, but hope to include a discussion of
them in a future publication.

The photographs having legends quoted from the text
are accurate illustrations, both in time and place, of that
part of the text included in the quotations. With two ex-
ceptions, all photographs of dead animals exhibit their
attitudes before I touched them, after they had fallen
and died.

In his interesting book, Recent Hunting Trips in
British North America, F.C. Selous has given an account
of our trip up the MacMillan River. At the risk of some

PREFACE 1x

duplication, I have included my narrative of it, not only
because most of my hunting was directed toward the
finding of sheep and consequently differed from his, but
also to make my record of the wilderness country more
complete. Selous has also described his later trip to the
South Fork of the MacMillan, where he found the
woodland caribou, Rangifer osborni, abundant. Dur-
ing my wanderings, I met with these animals but once,
and then my observation was limited to a cow and her calf.

None of the annals of “‘ breaking the wilderness” have
been enriched by more romance than that of the advance
of mining interests in Yukon Territory and Alaska. ‘This
has been told in several good books, which also include
descriptions of the Lewes and Yukon Rivers. ‘There-
fore all allusions to the well-known routes of travel and
the settled parts of the Territory have been excluded from
my narrative. But I have included a short trip up the
Katzehin River, near Skagway—the gateway to Yukon
Territory. For those interested in natural history studies,
chapter XX, which includes a discussion of the variations
of the sheep, and also short remarks on some other an-
imals, has been added to the narrative.

A general map of Yukon Territory, including my hunt-
ing camps, is inserted at the beginning of chapter XX.

Appendices are added, giving: (A) a list of books
and other publications relating to Sport, Natural History,
Exploration, and the Topography of the Territory; (B)
a list of the animals and fishes mentioned in the present
volume, with their scientific names; (C) reproductions of
the original descriptions of the northern species of sheep
(descriptions written when knowledge of the sheep was
very limited); (D) measurements of some of the sheep
killed; and (E) a record of the time of travelling by canoe
down the Pelly River.

x PREFACE

I have never received anything but the heartiest good-
will and the most kindly consideration from all people
whom I met in Yukon Territory. Without exception, will-
ing assistance was always offered, and given when needed,
and IJ take this opportunity of expressing my thanks.

It would be difficult to adequately express my in-
debtedness to my friend, A. B. Newell, who at that time
was Vice-President of the White Pass Railroad, and man-
aged the river steamers between Whitehorse and Daw-
son. Not only did he place at my disposal all the facili-
ties of that vast transportation system, but he did what
was still more valuable for the accomplishment of my plans
—he gave his personal interest.

W. H. Osgood and Carl Rungius have both placed
all their photographs at my disposal, and I must especially
mention the interest of Mr. Rungius in making some
illustrations for this book. No other artist has had the
experiences that would make it possible for him to record
so accurately the animal life of the Yukon region. Mr.
H. Q. French has kindly permitted me to use two of his
photographs.

E. W. Nelson and Arthur Colton have both read over
that part of the narrative which relates to Coal Creek,
and I have received much valuable criticism from
them.

With extraordinary patience, Dr. C. Hart Merriam
has sacrificed his time and read the whole manuscript.
I have accepted his numerous suggestions as to its form,
and also his still more numerous corrections of the text.
My obligation is so great, that I wish to lay special em-
phasis on his interest and assistance, and in thanking
him, to express my feeling of appreciation.

Nobody except myself, however, is responsible for any
of the conclusions in the text.

PREFACE xi

The pleasantest part of preparing the narrative has
been the co-operation of my wife.

A legitimate number of the animals killed were re-
served for trophies; the others were collected especially
for the U. S. Biological Survey, and are now in the new
National Museum at Washington.

The Biological Survey, a bureau of our National De-
partment of Agriculture, is an institution too little known,
and since it co-operated with me in all my work in the
north, thus adding pleasure not anticipated, I would
gladly bring its magnificent work to the attention of a
wider public than that of the specialists and others
directly interested. It was organized in 1885 for the pur-
pose of studying the food habits of our native birds and
mammals in their relations to agriculture, by Dr. C. Hart
Merriam, who possesses one of the keenest scientific
minds which the country has produced. Dr. Merriam
saw that the continent of North America, stretching from
the tropics to the Polar Sea, comprising vast areas of
tropical, temperate, and arctic lands, and supporting a
number of widely different fauna and flora, afforded
an unrivalled field for the study of the interrelations of
species, and the correlation of the distribution of animal
and plant life. He was the first to appreciate and demon-
strate the intimate relation between the agricultural pos-
sibilities of a region and the distribution of its native
forms of life.

In order to learn the facts of distribution it was neces-
sary to collect and determine the species inhabiting all
parts of the continent. For this purpose trained natural-
ists were sent into the field to discover the boundary lines
of the various fauna, and to bring back collections for
critical study. During the past twenty years, nearly one
hundred thousand specimens of mammals, besides many

Xil PREFACE

thousand birds, reptiles, and plants have been systemat-
ically collected in various parts of North America from
the arctic regions to the tropics, and from the eastern to
the western borders of the continent. From the data
thus secured and from other sources, the areas occupied
by a considerable number of species have been mapped.
The study of this accumulated information has resulted
in definitely outlining the life zones into which North
America is divided, and in demonstrating that each life
zone, except the most northern, represents a crop zone or
climatic belt, to which certain crops are best adapted.
This close relation of the life zones to agriculture is
shown in maps and bulletins published by the Biological
Survey.

Throughout its existence the Survey has made ex-
haustive studies of the food habits of the species of birds
and mammals for the purpose of determining their re-
lations to agriculture, and has conducted experiments for
the purpose of devising methods of protection for the
beneficial, and methods of destruction for the injurious
species. ‘The benefits to our agricultural and grazing in-
terests have already been great, and as our lands become
more densely populated the economic results will prove
of still greater value. To accomplish these ends Dr.
Merriam has gathered about him a corps of trained field
naturalists, more efficient for the purpose than any similar
body of men in the world.

As a nation we should be proud that the men engaged
in this work have been broad enough not to neglect the
profound scientific problems involved in it—problems
touching the origin and dispersal of species. Darwin
was perplexed by what seemed a grave objection to his
theory, the apparent absence of transitional forms be-
tween species. The collections made by the Biological

PREFACE xill

Survey, both of mammals and birds, are extremely rich
in these intermediate or intergrading forms—forms con-
necting many of the well marked types which were
formerly considered distinct species; and one day, when
the time can be spared from more strictly official work,*
the subject will be enriched by studies based upon this
material—studies likely to form one of the most valuable
contributions of this generation to our knowledge of evo-
lution—and we shall look back on the work of the Bi-
ological Survey as one of the most valuable achievements,
both practical and scientific, that ever had its origin in a
governmental department.

In the way of field equipment, I had an open canvas
shelter, instead of a tent, with side wings so constructed
that, when pegged to the ground, they inclined outward
at an angle from the perpendicular, leaving extra space
for storing provisions. A detachable strip of canvas, a
foot wide, could be tied in front and sloped outward over
inclined poles. This prevented the rain from blowing in.
No one who loves camp life can prefer a tent to a shelter,
exceptin winter. The log fire which is always made before
the shelter, reflects warmth directly inside, so that one
can sit at ease and in enjoyment in all but the coldest
weather. A shelter is also more convenient to erect than
a tent.

For sleeping, I had a coon-skin robe, eight feet square.
It weighed fourteen pounds. It keeps me warm enough
even in winter weather. A lynx-skin robe is better and
warmer, but more expensive. A caribou- or reindeer-skin
robe is the best of all. Equally warm, it is very much
lighter than either of the others. The wolf-skin robe is

*Since the above was written Dr. Merriam has retired from his official posi-
tion for the purpose of devoting his time exclusively to scientific studies. A
large part of the results will appear in a comprehensive work on North Amer-
ican mammals.

XIV PREFACE

more commonly used by trappers and prospectors, but
is heavier.

Until the month of November I always wore summer
underclothing. A gray flannel shirt, and one pair of gab-
ardine trousers last me for two seasons. Heavy wool-
len socks and moccasins (leather, or preferably moose-
hide when to be had in sufficient quantity) provide the
footgear necessary for summer. The rubber shoe with
leather uppers, soled and hobnailed, if possible, is best
for early fall. I never wore a coat, but instead carried a
parkay or seamless cloak, made of the skins of ground-
squirrels. I wore this only on the tops of mountains, or
when the cold required it. A pair of Zeiss prism field-
glasses, eight or ten power, an Eastman kodak for films,
31-4 X 41-4, were always carried on my belt. Any kind
of felt hat answered, but usually I hunted without any
hat at all. One of the most important things was my
Alpine riicksack, which had been made in Germany.
Instead of a coat, I always carried this on my shoulders.
In it were the parkay and any extra things needed.
Sixty pounds of meat could be packed into it, or a whole
bear skin, or the head and skin of a ram. One small
canvas bag would hold all my equipment for a season,
except the small mouse traps, and the steel traps. A
common pocket knife of good steel, for skinning, a com-
pass, a barometer and a steel tape were always in my
pockets. Usually I bought the provisions commonly used
by all prospectors and trappers of the country—flour, rice,
sugar, dried fruit, butter in cans, tea, bacon and salt;
and a few other things when transportation could be
provided. Skins were cured with salt when I could bring
it. I always had a .22 rifle to use for shooting grouse and
small animals, but for large game my Mannlicher, .256
calibre, is the only rifle I have ever used in the North.

PREFACE TO THE SECOND
EDITION

Durinc the eight years which have passed since this
book was published, I have not found any reasons to
change my conclusions on the causes which produce the
variable colors of the Ovis-dalli-stonei group of sheep.

In this edition, aside from a few footnotes added in
Chapter XX, and a few changes in scientific names, I
have slightly changed the map of color distribution to
conform with such information as I have been able to
accumulate up to this date. I sent numerous separates of
the original map, plate, and Chapter XX to hunters, trap-
pers, prospectors, and residents throughout the north, and
also to others familiar with the regions indicated, asking
for criticism and correction. The total result only neces-
sitates some slight changes in the map, but practically
none in the color plate opposite the map.

At different times three articles have been published
containing remarks which, if true, contradict my state-
ments in Chapter XX on the subject of horns, pelage,
and distribution of sheep. I have therefore made these
articles the basis for a fuller discussion of these interest-
ing subjects, and for that purpose have added Appendix F.

The individuals who have taken an interest in the
color distribution of sheep and have written to assist me
in correcting the map are numerous. The list would be
a long one if I should record their names. In thus
acknowledging their aid I am glad also to thank them.

CHARLES SHELDON.

Washington, D. C,
April 1, 1919.

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CONTENTS

PAGE
Tue Trip To THE OciLviE RockiEs—19g04 . 3

ON THE SHEEP RANGES—Igo4. . . . . . 22
SEARCHING FOR RaMS—1I9g04 . . . . . ~~ 51
ae Pinar STALK —— 190g) 0) 2 )0 0 yan ee Se
Tue Trip To THE Forks oF THE MacMILLan
BSEVER = FQOB NER TT) een oY Og
Up THE Nortu Fork To THE SELWYN RockIEs
ra SH ANT ee ay al eagle tal ila Nien reel |)
SEARCHING FOR SHEEP—I904. . . . . . II2
LookinG For RaMS—Igo4 . . . . . « « 125
Down THE NortH Fork. Prateau Moun-
AUN ce BRO NU Cal in entra asc cad mead.) Nes
Tue Watson River CountRY—I1904 . . . 155

THe Katzenin River In ALASKA—I9Q05 . . I7I

WE REE EY RIVER TOO.) 6 ia acl gl AS en a
Tue Petty Mountains—igo5 ... . . 194
ERUNFING RAMs——1g05 004) 6) 4) (eo) ok aneee

Tue Finat Hunt ror RamMs—igo5. . . . 229
Tue Trip up Ross RivEr—1g05. . . . . 251

Tue SHEEP OF Mount SHELDON—I905 . . 266

XVii

XVill
CHAPTER

XVIII.
XIX.
XX.

CONTENTS

Tue Rose Mountains—1g05 ..... .-
Tue GLENLYON MounTaAINs—Ig05 ... .

REMARKS ON SOME OF THE ANIMALS OF YUKON
TERRITORY (| oes RS Eee

Appenp1x A.—List or Books RELATING TO
Sport, Natura. History,
AND EXPLORATION OF THE
YuKonw TERRITORY |..."

AprENDIx B.—Sc1ientTiFic NAMES OF ANIMALS
MENTIONED IN THE NARRA-
TIVE . athe es ae hoe

AppENDIxX C.—ORrIGINAL DESCRIPTIONS OF
NORTHERN SHEEP! (0... °°) 08

AppENDIX D.—Horn MEASUREMENTS .. .

AprpENDIX E.—TimeE SPENT IN PADDLING
Down Petty RIVER...

APPENDIX F.—DIsTRIBUTION, HORNS, AND PEL-
AGE: GF GHEEP)) uo, is) aan

| 10) 2, ROSMAN Pe RETIRED eT BDe DR SLM ete USA yt

PAGE

276
286

299

331

333

336
340

344

345
355

ILLUSTRATIONS

Vignette on cover from a drawing by Carl Rungius of the head
of big ram killed by the author August 2, 1904.

emis (COlabed Plate) le sy 5 ai cies te ls ee) HOR pIece
FACING PAGE

North-West Mounted Police on Yukon River below mouth of
Coal Creek, July 8

Fording Coal Creek

“Across from camp the mountains were particularly rough,”
July 15 ihe isired wei four MPs

“The mountains . . . extended high above timberline,” July 14

Looking up Coal Creek, July 15 .

Peak of Ogilvie Rockies, July 15 . nar i

“We travelled on bars, fording back and forth,” July 12

“T saw the bear slowly walking along the upper surface of the
basin” (colored plate)

“Mountains with fantastic pinnacles and rock-turreted slopes
surrounded us”’

“Perhaps the highest of those in the Divide ranges”’
“She fell, kicked once or twice, and was dead,” July 16 .

Our camp in the heart of the hunting country in the Ogilvie
Rockies, July 17 . Bate

Our horses standing in the smoke to keep off mosquitoes
Bull caribou on mountain in Ogilvie Rockies .

“‘He dropped, rolled a few yards, and was caught in the broken
rock,” July 19 . Ly OReR Ran AMEN UZ ei ye

Caribou, killed July 19 se
“We loaded the ram on Mike,” July 23

xix

—

XX ILLUSTRATIONS

FACING PAGE
1. Point where ram was killed, July 19. 52
2. Point where ram was killed, July 23 . 52
3. Point where bear was killed, July 16. 52
Carl Rungius sketching the ram 62
“They were on the west face of a high rugged mountain,”

August 2. gee Whe renbie 72
Osgood and Rungius . 72
“He dropped in his tracks,” August 2 76
be Selecting the grayest, I shot him ohare ath the middle of the

body,” August 2 76
“I quickly selected the one with the largest horns and offhand

shot him through the heart,” August 2 76
“A fine old veteran of the crags and peaks,” August 2 76
Breaking the hunting camp . 78
Travelling down Coal Creek 78
“Stood motionless on the crest, gazing at the country below” 83
MacMillan Mountains from the MacMillan River . go
“The peaks and ridges of Dromedary Mountain were visible

in the distance ” go
“Beaver cutting” on bank of MacMillan River . g2
Beaver house in eddy of MacMillan River . 92
Selous and the calf moose, September 2 98
Large beaver house in a beaver lake of MacMillan River,

September 3 104
Selous towing the canoe, September 6 104
Selous’s bull, shot September 8 . 108
“We endured it sitting under the shelter,” September 14 . 108
The summits of the Selwyn Rockies, September 16 . 110
Selwyn Rockies, September 18 . 110

ILLUSTRATIONS

xxl

FACING PAGE

“The cow appeared to resent my nearer approach,” Septem-
BRE at 513 Uh age rt Nan Pata

First ram killed, horn ae 1g.

Second ram killed, September 19 .

Ewe killed, September 19

“T took several photographs,” September 19 .
Jack Barr and his dogs

Carl Rungius and his big moose

Plateau Mountain in August

MacMillan River and Dromedary Mountain » photographed f from
the slope of Kalzas Mountain

Running through the ice in MacMillan River

Looking toward the Meade Glacier, June 17 .

Mrs. Hosfall taking in the salmon net

Nahanni House, July 22 . Bue

Indian camp on bank of Pelly, July 20 .

The Hosfall family, 1909

Looking up the Lapie River, July 25 afi) eae
“The glories of the Pellys were spread out before me,” July 27

“In front of them were piled precipice Ne precipice ” (colored
plate) . ; cS hae

“He stopped long enough to receive a bullet in his heart,”
July 29

“He remained doubled up and almost suspended,” July 29 .

“The ram simply stiffened out without rising and died,” July 29

“Niche in the side of a splintered wall,” July 29

Camp in the Pellys, Tom Jefferies, July 28

“Standing in the smoke of the fire to rid himself of flies.” Jefferies
under the shelter, August 1

“After five jumps fell dead,” August 2 .

116
128 ©
128
128
132
1
142

150

150
150
171°
182
190
Igo -
190
200

200

206

214
214
216
216

218

218

226

XXil ILLUSTRATIONS

FACING PAGE
“T suddenly stepped forward . . . and bani the bulb,”
PAGE Bis) oo yet : Aygo

“The big dark one was leading. He fell dead to rai shot.”
Austist Oi)! 105 y. 242

“‘He was the whitest of all and I killed him in his tracks,”
Piette Gu ac eb hese, Me SAE Tae! Ned 1S a ea

“Finding him among the willows, almost at the foot,” August 7 244

Ewes seeking shelter from approaching storm (colored plate) . . 251
Towing up the Ross River, Aupgust'23.5. . 9... . = 2 9260
Head of Provost Cafion. Big rock at right where accident hap- |
PEMEM. ge bia hace 9 (ste peel shy vets topes oki eiee ha)! ke) (ee) Wace rae
Lewis Lake. Direction—south-west, August 2g. . . . . . 264
Field Lake, Mount Sheldon, August 29. . . . . . .°. » 264
“Sheldon Lake at the foot of Mount Sheldon which towers up
from/its shore, Angus: 31 \\)55)) 2) (4h) ae-rt aaea) anene
“Time had fashioned the precipice walls in thousands of fan-
tastic shapes,. SEDtEMDEL 2) ).00 cue cocks cen Pe ey mee
“*A vast ampitheatre of perpendicular walls falling more than
3,000 feet to a lake of sapphire blue,” September 4 . . . 272
Camp at foot of Mount Riddell, September6. . . . . . . 274
Indian cache near a bar of the Ross River, September 8. . . 274
‘Phe Rose Mountams, July20) 50005) 0.00 aa ee ee
Mr. Rose and his cabin, September 12.. . . . 9. . . . « 298
Dropped almost at my feet,"* September 17... . |. ss eeeen
Jefferies cabin, September. 19. 000. 0s ais Ass . 26%

Looking down on “Detour”’ of onc ies Maia MacMillan
in distance, September 23. . . 286

Glenlyons toward south-west—Tay River mountains in distance,

peptember 23)... 2 ete : : 5 nS, ist ae nD
Highest peaks of Glenlyons opposite Tay R River, Baa 23. 290

Glenlyons looking south from same point, September 23 . . . 290

ILLUSTRATIONS XXill

PACING PAGE

Samp in Gleniyons, September 29) |<<) 4!) a)/9). 6 sys) BQ) 7
Ready to load the canoe. Glenlyons across river, October 2 . 292 ~

Indian grave on bank of Pelly, 25 miles above mouth of Mac-
DIMAS COCEODER Bi a hia tee roi atit ss: Veit imaene a eatin Oni (april ROM

Trappers’ line cabin on MacMillan Mountain, October 5 . . 294 ~
Moose trail on top of the MacMillan Mountains, October 5 . 294

Junction of MacMillan and Pelly Rivers as seen from top of
MacMillan Mountain, October\'§) 6). 0))6) 0s 296 «

MacMillan’ Mountains, October's 64... 6) 566s) 0)! /290)

Plate illustrating distribution of sheep in areas indicated on map 299

MAPS

FACING PAGE
Map of Coal Creek, showing author’s Suis camp in the
Ogilvie: Rock tes) «))/ (6) \ja/ ie) </i)s , SNP laghltaniat ai ate

Map of MacMillan River, showing author’s hunting camps. . 84.

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THE OGILVIE ROCKIES

To sit on rocks, to muse o’er flood and fell,
To slowly trace the forest’s shady scene,
Where things that own not man’s dominion
dwell,
And mortal foot hath ne’er or rarely been;
To climb the trackless mountain all unseen,
With the wild flock that never needs a fold;
Alone o’er steeps and foaming falls to lean;
This is not solitude; ’tis but to hold
Converse with Nature’s charms, and view her
stores unroll’d.

—BYRON.

CHAPTER 1
THE TRIP TO THE OGILVIE ROCKIES—1904

THE mountain sheep of America are among the noblest
of our wild animals. Their pursuit leads the hunter into
the most remote and inaccessible parts of the wilderness
and calls into play his greatest skill and highest qualities

of endurance.
My first experience with sheep was in northern Mexico,

where they dwell among the isolated groups of rugged
mountains that rise abruptly from the great waterless des-
erts—deserts beautiful in their wealth of color, weird in the
depth of their solitude, impressive in their grim desolation.
It was there that I became fascinated by the exhilaration
of the sport of hunting the wild sheep, and dominated by
the desire of following them in other lands.

I was familiar with what had been written about the
white sheep, Ours dalli, of Alaska, and the darkest of the
American sheep, Ours stonei, of the Stikine water-shed in
northern British Columbia; and when in igor still an-
other form of sheep, Ours fannini, was described from the
ranges of the Canadian Rockies in Yukon Territory—an
animal with a pure white head and gray back—I decided
to explore for it if the chance ever offered. Indeed, so

little was known about the variation, habits, and distribu-
3

4 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

tion of the wild sheep of the far northern wilderness, that
my imagination was impressed by the possibilities of the
results of studying them in their native land. There was,
besides, the chance of penetrating new regions, of adding
the exhilaration of exploration to that of hunting, and
of bringing back information of value to zoologists and
geographers, and of interest to sportsmen and lovers of
natural history.

The opportunity came in the summer of 1904. A party
was organized composed of the artist, Carl Rungius, who
has so faithfully painted our large game animals in their
true environment; Wilfred H. Osgood, of the Biological
Survey, a trained naturalist of reputation, and myself.

Late in June we sailed from Seattle and proceeded over
the well-known route to Dawson, purchasing provisions
for the trip in Skagway, and going over the White Pass and
Yukon Railway to Whitehorse, where we took one of the
large river steamers to Dawson. Learning that the game
in those parts of the Ogilvie Rockies east of Dawson, at
the head of the Klondike River, had been disturbed by
winter hunting to supply meat to the Dawson market, we
decided to go to the head of Coal Creek, which has its
source in the heart of an unknown part of the Ogilvies, and
enters the Yukon about sixty miles below Dawson.

We purchased six horses together with packing equip-
ment, and secured the services of two men, Charles Gage
and Ed Spahr, to accompany us as packers. After sev-
eral days of tedious delay, it was finally announced that
the small steamer Prospector would start down river at
5 p.M., July 7. In due time, therefore, we loaded our

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THE TRIP TO THE OGILVIE ROCKIES 5

horses and outfit on the boat, put on our hunting clothes,
and went aboard just before the Prospector pulled out from
the wharf on schedule time. We soon passed through pict-
uresque parts of the river where it narrows and runs be-
tween high cliffs, and farther down between high rolling
ridges on each side, until at 8.30 p. mM. we reached Forty
Mile. Going ashore, we tried to get information from
some of the residents as to the abundance of game and the
possibility of travelling up Coal Creek. It was freely
given, but conflicting. After a short stop at Forty Mile we
left with a vague idea that it would be best to follow up
the main branch of the creek and push on till we found
the sheep country. We soon reached the mouth of Coal
Creek, six miles below, tied up to the bank, unloaded our
horses and outfit, and erected our tents on a high bank
close to the water.

One of the North-west Mounted Police was located
there, living in a tent, doing his own cooking, and remaining
practically inactive until the fall, when the river is closed
to navigation. He was there to police the coal mines and
keep a check on all people passing down the river who had
not reported at Forty Mile. Though this practice stopped
soon after, during the first years of the rush into the coun-
try, the North-west Mounted Police, distributed at inter-
vals along the Yukon River, took the names and destina-
tions of all people passing in boats, summoning them to
the shore if necessary, and kept a fairly good record of all
who were travelling in the country.

Coal had been discovered a few years before, twelve
miles up the South Branch of Coal Creek; and two years

6 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

previous to our arrival, a mine was opened, coal chutes and
boarding-houses for men were erected at the mouth of the
creek, and a narrow-gauge railroad was loosely constructed
up to the mine. During the summer a small steamer kept
hauling barges of coal to Dawson to accumulate it there
for the winter supply of fuel.

At this point the Yukon River bends in a sharp
curve and is surrounded on all sides by fairly high
mountains, which may be the cause of the constant rain
at that exact spot, even when the sky is clear a few miles
above and below. Not more than a mile below, a spur
of the main interior range rising about three hundred
feet above timber-line, extends nearly down to the river,
and sheep are said sometimes to wander there in win-
ter. I heard that there was a well-defined sheep trail
on the top. Game is very scarce everywhere along the
Yukon, but occasionally a black bear is seen, and in that
particular vicinity I learned that one had shortly before
appeared on the opposite side of the river; also that
two had been killed a few miles up the railroad. Moose
at times are seen along the river, and just below Coal
Creek is a cafion, extending down between ridges from
the mountain spur, where a few days previous the Ind-
ians from Forty Mile had killed a cow moose. By in-
vitation I slept in the tent of Mr. Jones, the policeman;
but before retiring we had tried to get some information
about the interior country from various men employed on
the railroad and at the mines, only learning, however, of
one point where we should leave the railroad to reach the
main branch of Coal Creek.

THE TRIP TO THE OGILVIE ROCKIES 7

Fuly 8.—As we were cooking breakfast early the next
morning, it commenced to rain and, much to our disgust,
continued all day. We could not start with horses that
were “green” and too tender to endure the pack with wet
backs and, besides, the trail began ina swamp. Hence the
day was passed testing our rifles and wandering about with
shot-gun and fishing-rods. A few graylings were taken,
and this first tramping gave us an impression of the dif-
ficulty of taking pack-horses through the thick woods.
Osgood had a large supply of traps for small mammals,
and it was his object to collect as many of the mammals,
birds, and plants as possible. Many people visited us in
camp that evening, but none could give the coveted in-
formation which might assist us to find a good route into
the country we wished to reach.

fuly g.—In the morning we were up at five and, after
breakfasting, packed the horses and made a start, follow-
ing an old road through a swamp, very muddy and soft,
to the railroad tracks half a mile above. The horses,
unused to packing, were very excitable and did not go
well. They were all large and had been used in the
winter stage-service between Dawson and Whitehorse
until each had become unsound and disqualified; yet they
were still serviceable for pack-horses—at least, they were
the best we could get. Caribou, an old white horse once
used for packing over the White Pass trail, proved to be
Sagacious, very sure on his feet, the best “‘rustler” of all,
and very quickly became the leader when they were
turned loose. Old Mike, a bay, was steady and gentle,
fairly sure-footed, but rather slow. Danger, a large bay,

8 . THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER’ YUKON

had never carried a pack. He was sure-footed, willing,
but had an annoying habit of constantly picking feed
when being led, and the conformation of his back was
not adjustable to the aparejo, which kept it sore all the
time. Nigger, a black, had never carried a pack, was
clumsy on his feet, and had a tendency to jump at critical
places. Shorty, a dark bay, was the best pack-horse of all.
He followed well without leading, and though constantly
lying down at every pause, would get up without shifting
his pack. He was the pet, and always kept nosing about
for sugar and bits of bread. Schoolmarm, a dark bay
mare, not accustomed to the pack, carried a Mexican
saddle on which were packed trifles and lighter material.
Each of us travelled on foot leading a horse, while Shorty
was driven ahead of the man in the rear. None of the
horses had worked for a long time, and the first day was
very trying for them. All kept lying down at every op-
portunity, thus showing great distress under their packs;
it was difficult to lead them, and leading was necessary in
that country.

Soon after emerging from the swamp and coming out
on the railroad tracks, we reached Coal Creek and first
learned the difficulty and danger of fording. ‘The stream
was swift and deep, and Rungius, falling in the ford, was
nearly carried down. Again we passed through a swamp
for two and a half miles, and, coming out on the track,
proceeded up the railroad and arrived at some log cabins,
called Robinson’s Camp, twelve miles from the mouth,
about noon. While we lunched, a prospector who was
loitering about, volunteered to show us the way to the main

a

Photograph by Carl Rungius.
NortTH-WEsT MOUNTED POLICE ON YUKON RIVER BELOW MOUTH OF COAL CREEK, JULY 8.

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Photograph by W. H. Osgood. By permission of the U.S. Piological Survey.
ForRDING COAL CREEK.

2HE TRIP TO THE OGILVIE ROCKIES 9

branch of the creek, and in the afternoon we again started,
reached the creek, forded it, and found a blazed trail on
the opposite side which we followed all day as best we
could, now and then losing it and going on independently.
The woods were dense and most of the ground was covered
with soft, dry sphagnum moss through which the horses
would sink six inches or more at each step, and which
made the travelling tiresome for ourselves. We encoun-
tered this soft mossy ground at intervals most of the way.
It is common on the sides and even the tops of the moun-
tains until well into the divide ranges. Small spruces
always grow in it, and, in places, huckleberries. Fording
the creek back and forth, often chopping small trees and
thick brush, we kept on until evening, when we found a
little grass for the horses and camped by the side of the
creek. It was daylight all night, except for three hours
about midnight, as the sun went below the horizon, and
then, for a short time, there was a fine twilight.

Thus far along the creek were balsam, poplar, white
spruce, willow, and alder trees; flowers of various kinds
and vetches were abundant. The creek was from sixty
to a hundred feet wide; its banks were in some places
rough and steep, and in others bordered by long, rocky
bars. The mountains, covered with spruces, rose from
the level country below, about a mile back from the river
on the north side, and nearer to it on the south. The river
was swift and deep; the temperature of the water about
forty degrees Fahrenheit. During the day we noticed a few
very old moose tracks and bird life was scarce. We only
saw a pair of solitary sandpipers, a few spotted sandpipers,

10 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

some Alaska jays, and a rough-legged hawk. After we
had pitched the tents and had some tea, I took my rifle and
went up the creek, but returned after two hours, having
seen no signs of active animal life except a few birds.

uly 10.—We packed and started late the next morning,
still endeavoring to follow the blazed trail, which we had
been told would lead to an abandoned logging camp, six-
teen miles up the river. Here and there we could pick it up
and follow it for a short distance, but most of the time we
travelled independently, following the bars of the river,
fording it many times, while the woods on both sides were
so thick that Gage was constantly obliged to go ahead and
cut a trail so that the horses could get through with their
packs. Rungius and myself wore leather moccasins, the
worst possible footgear in which to ford these northern
rivers, where the current runs from six to ten miles an
hour over an extremely rocky bottom on which the smooth
moccasins slip almost as if on ice. In many places it
would have been dangerous to fall, since a foothold could
not be regained and one might become entangled in the
driftwood or hurled against rocks while being carried down
the continuous rapids. The others wore hobnail shoes,
the only thing in which to travel along rocky rivers which
have to be forded. Time after time we saved ourselves
from falling by holding onto the horses, for they had no
difficulty in keeping a solid footing.

Most of the day was perfect, though a light thunder
shower fell in the evening. Soon after starting we saw
the old track of a black bear; later we killed a porcupine
and two Alaska Spruce grouse. We ate the porcupine

THE TRIP TO THE OGILVIE ROCKIES II

flesh that night and found it excellent, though rather too
rich. The character of the country continued the same,
and a few birches began to appear where we lunched.
We were somewhat worried because of the scant grass for
the horses which, however, had become more accustomed
to their packs and were going much better. A small black
gnat now appeared, and greatly worried them, attacking
their chests, bellies and legs, and causing the blood to run
freely. Temporary relief was afforded by rubbing them
well with wagon grease, brought for this purpose. One
horse had cast a shoe and after replacing it we kept on
through mossy, swampy muskeg that lay on both sides
of the creek, until camp was made near some low but
very rough mountains which came close to the creek.
The creek continued to be of about the same width, and as
we approached the mountains its abrupt descent made
the fording more difficult. We slept at eleven, and did not
start until 11.30 in the morning.

fuly 11.—Getting breakfast, gathering in the horses
(which, owing to the scanty grass, had to range some
distance for feed), and packing always required two or
three hours or more. Having completely lost all signs
of the blazes that marked the route, we worked our way
up the creek for a mile to a point where rocky bluffs shut
in so close that we were obliged to climb around them
and proceed along a steep mountain side. While wading
the horses around a point in the stream, where it dashed
in rapid descent through a rather wide canon, Danger,
the horse in the lead, went around safely, but Nigger lost
his footing and fell in the water, so that we were com-

12 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

pelled, after getting him out and fixing his pack, to go on
with these two along the bank, not caring to risk return-
ing around the point. The other horses were not per-
mitted to attempt it and were taken up the slope on a
good game trail. It was necessary soon to take Danger
and Nigger up a very steep ridge where Nigger lost his
footing and rolled down about fifty feet. The pack was
uninjured, but we had to remove it and use Danger to
take it up the incline. Then, when trying to lead Nigger
up, he again lost courage and, rearing, fell backward and
rolled down some distance, but received no injury other
than a bad cut on a hind leg, which later did not seem
to trouble him. All this made considerable delay, but
finally we again got under way and soon found a good
game trail on the slope along which, with some chopping,
we passed and descended into a swamp where we picked
up the blazed trail. ‘This swamp continued some miles
and was extremely difficult to travel through. Fortu-
nately, it had not rained sufficiently to make it impassable
and we were able to get through, though not without
much exasperating delay, owing to the bogging of the
horses and the consequent repacking or constant read-
justment of the packs.

Late in the afternoon we emerged at a point where
Coal Creek forks; the main branch coming from the
north, the other of almost equal volume from the west.
A few hundred large spruce trees near here had been cut
the preceding winter, and most of the logs had been
driven down in the spring to a movable saw-mill, where
they were sawed into lumber to be used in the coal mines

THE: TRIP TO THE OGILVIE ROCKIES 13

and docks. At the Forks we saw two king salmon,
which were just beginning to run up the creek. Soon two
men appeared, who had come more directly across the
country from Robinson’s Camp the same day, to count
the remaining logs piled on the bank near the river.
They could give us no information about the country
farther up, except to say that five miles ahead there was
a canon which would block the progress of pack-horses,
and beyond it the mountains were too rough for our
method of travel. Here, at last, we found an abundant
supply of good grass for the horses, and from there on
it was plentiful and of good quality. Mosquitoes were
beginning to be bothersome, though not yet a pest.
The country was wilder; the mountains, which rose in
ridges and formed spurs of the main range, were nearer
the creek and were covered with spruces and poplars.
After taking a bite to eat, I started with my rod to try
for graylings in front of the cabins, and quickly landed
seven of fair size from one pool. Graylings were abun-
dant in all the large pools clear up to the head of the ©
river. I even saw several a half mile below the melting
snow, near the extreme source of the creek. ‘Those
caught usually averaged from eight ounces to a pound
in weight. They are quite shy and generally lie at the
foot of the more rapid water of the pools or in the eddies
—always where the surface is smooth. They quickly
start to take the fly, but with no snap, just rising to the
surface to grasp it in a sluggish manner, and once hooked
they have no more play than a chub. I have never found
them a game fish or worth catching except for food, and

144 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

then only when other meat is lacking. As a fish for the
frying pan they are most inferior, for when cooked they
are soft and have not much flavor. It is said that later
in the fall they become harder, and perhaps that is so,
but on the whole I am convinced that they could never
satisfy the taste of one accustomed to trout, bass, or even
perch. Still, they do afford a relief from bacon and beans,
and when travelling in the north I have always been
glad to get them. After catching a mess of grayling, I
took my rifle and made a wide circle around a ridge
behind the cabins, seeing abundant old moose tracks,
two or three olive-backed thrushes, and a few juncos and
red squirrels. Returning to camp about 10.30 at night
I took the rod again and quickly captured three more
graylings from the same pool, even after Rungius had
just caught some before me. At 11.30 I rolled under
my blanket, beginning to realize that the continual day-
light caused irregular hours. It did not, however, inter-
fere with sound sleep.

Fuly 12.—Starting up the creek we found it was
becoming narrower and swifter, descending more rapidly.
We travelled on bars, fording back and forth, often cut-
ting trails through the woods until we reached the en-
trance to the cafion five miles up. We had passed be-
yond the signs of man, except now and then the evidence
of a trapper or an Indian. Near the cafion the moun-
tains were higher, some rising above timber-line, where
the sides and tops were smooth and mossy, and in some
places covered with snow. As we loitered for a few
moments on a bar in the creek, I scanned the side of the

Moe oPRir TO THE: OGILVIE ‘ROCKIES 15

mountain ahead through my field-glasses and saw a
grizzly bear passing along the slope high above timber-
line. That was my first sight of game in the northern
wilderness. The attention of the others was called to it
and we watched it for fifteen minutes as it travelled
steadily until lost to sight in a canon. We made camp at
the foot of the cafion, and after supper Rungius, Spahr,
and Gage went to locate a route around the cafion and,
if necessary, to cut out and prepare a trail. I waded
the river, passed through the woods to the mountain
where I had seen the bear, and ascended to the point
where it had disappeared. Moose and old caribou
tracks were abundant; the ground, covered with lichens
(commonly called caribou-moss), was very soft in places,
and high up in the poplars was a grouse. Mounting
this slope I realized for the first time the seriousness of
the mosquito pest of the far North. They swarmed and
buzzed and completely covered my clothes so that large
spaces of my coat and trousers quickly became black
with them. I covered my neck with a handkerchief and
smeared my face and hands with gun grease, but this
afforded no relief.

I saw no sign of the bear and, unable to find its trail
on the hard ground, I came at last to the peak of the
mountain. From there the main ranges in the distance
were revealed, all snow-capped and striped with irregu-
lar bands of snow, extending east and west as far as the
eye could see, thrilling me with eager anticipation to be
among them. I descended, fighting the mosquitoes,
which followed me nearly to the river, and reached camp

16 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

at 10 p. M. ‘The others had returned and reported that
by lightening the packs and making a double trip we
could pass on the slopes above the cafon which was not
two miles long.

Just after going under my blanket, short, thrush-like
notes pealed out in the sleeping woods, sweet and very
beautiful. They came from the varied thrush—the first
and last time I heard it—but the music lingered with me
all through the summer.

fuly 13.—We went to sleep with the elated feeling
that we were on the edge of the game country. The
next morning we found that the horses had crossed the
river, and some time was required to find and bring them
back. Each night two were hobbled and bells were
attached to two others. ‘They seldom wandered far from
camp. ‘They were now more hardened to the work and
very gentle, easy to catch, and, on the whole, a fairly
satisfactory lot for this kind of trip. We put half-packs
on the horses and led them around the steep slopes above
the canon without difficulties worth mentioning, and
finally descended abruptly to its head, where we made
camp. After eating, Spahr and Gage returned with the
horses to bring up the remainder of the outfit; Run-
gius set out to climb a mountain; Osgood stayed in camp
to prepare specimens of small mammals that he had
taken in his traps; and I started up river to look over
the country ahead and find the best route for the next
day. Old moose tracks were now abundant on the bars,
and those of the black bear were common. The travel-
ling had improved, and from the head of the cafion to the

THE TRIP (TO) THE OGILVIE: ROCKIES fy)

source of the river, except for the constant fording, con-
tinued excellent, so we could proceed more rapidly and
with fewer delays for adjusting the packs.

We were camped on a bar in a beautiful spot among
willows and poplars, surrounded by high mountains, on
a curve of the creek above the cafion through which it
rushed with a distant roar. Just before midnight came
a thunder shower, followed by silence. Suddenly the
olive-backed thrushes began to sing. All thrush songs
awaken a deep feeling, a sense of the woods, of the wild,
free life, the mysterious depths of the forest and the wild
animals therein. The traveller in the wilderness feels
their enchantment in proportion to the genuine quality
of his love for that wild, lonely life. I fell asleep while
the woods were still resounding with vibrant tones. The
song was not heard again that year.

July 14.—We started by making a difficult and dan-
gerous ford, and then travelled along the bars, following
well-beaten moose trails. These were continuous along
the banks of the river on both sides, and like all animal
trails took every advantage of the ground. It is usually
unwise to deviate from them and try to select a better
route, since one learns by experience that animals nearly
always choose the best and most convenient places for
travelling. None of the moose tracks on the bars were
fresh, and everywhere were shed horns, showing that
moose were there at the period of shedding in December
and January. At the time of our visit most of them were
in the lower country, nearer the Yukon River, about the
lakes and flat lands, though now and then one wandered

18 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

up in the ranges to the head of a “‘draw.” Snow-shoe
rabbits had been extremely abundant every day. We
saw them jumping about the woods, and in the late after-
noon they were skipping and feeding near the bars,
where they eat the willow bark and the herbs growing
everywhere among the willows. Wherever the willow
and dwarf birch grew densely, their tops were trimmed
over large areas as if cut off with a knife. This is rabbit-
cutting, about four feet from the ground, made when
the snow is deep. We saw no lynxes, although their
tracks were abundant on the bars. Bird life was very
scarce at this time, and we saw but few varieties during
the entire trip.

Three miles above the cafion a large branch rushing
from the mountains on the east joins the creek. There
we penetrated the main range and at last were in the
Ogilvie Rockies. The mountains, peaked and jagged,
piled up in cliffs and pinnacles, blotched with snow,
furrowed by cafions, extended high above timber-line and
we realized that we were in the sheep country. The
course of the ranges on the east side of the creek is east
and west; on the west side the range nearest, the creek
runs north and south, throwing off spurs, equally lofty,
east and west. In a general easterly and westerly direc-
tion there is a series of five or six parallel ranges up to
the divide, on which one could travel continuously, per-
haps, for hundreds of miles south along the northern crest
of the Rocky Mountains. The altitude of timber-line is
about four thousand feet, and that of the summits varies
from five to eight thousand feet.

ae

Photograph by Carl Rungius.
“ACROSS FROM CAMP THE MOUNTAINS WERE PARTICULARLY ROUGH,” JULY

Photograph by Carl Rungius.
““THE MOUNTAINS . . . EXTENDED HIGH ABOVE TIMBERLINE,” JULY

Pat RIP TO THE OGILVIE ROCKIES 19

In exceptional places, where the rock has not been
exposed, lichens extend clear to the summits. Here and
there on the slopes, in the basins, and under the cliffs, the
grass was green. Mosquitoes swarmed on the slopes a
short distance above the creek. But where the sheep were
we failed to see, though again and again we paused to
search the country through our field-glasses. It rained
hard all day, and for the first time we were soaked. Ex-
cept for short stretches here and there along the river,
where the spring floods had washed out the moose trails,
the travelling was good, the ground hard, the trails well
beaten. The fords were easier though more frequent. We
made camp at six on the bank of the creek, between tower-
ing mountains on both sides. Across from camp the
mountains were particularly rough, and perpendicular
cliffs rose to a great height, forming peaks.

After supper Rungius went out to sketch a bit of
landscape, Osgood to climb a mountain, and I to look
for game. I followed up the river for four miles, care-
fully scanning the mountains through field-glasses, but saw
no animals. Here and there along the river banks were
diggings where a bear had hunted the ground-squirrels,
which, as we ascended to the higher country, were now
beginning to appear. Osgood had found old sheep dung
on the mountain, thus demonstrating the presence of
sheep at some time, but both he and Rungius were a little
discouraged at seeing no recent sign.

As I returned I heard a constant chirping not far
above camp and, approaching, saw a hawk-owl sitting
in a tree. These owls were quite common everywhere

20 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

along the river. It was midnight when we fell asleep,
listening to the murmur and roar of the river. ‘Thus far
the thermometer had been registering between thirty
and forty degrees for the lowest temperature during the
night.

Fuly 15.—The next day, which was beautiful and
clear, the travelling was still better; old moose tracks
were even more abundant, and so were mosquitoes.
Dwarf birch appeared more densely on the mountain
slopes, the woods continued about the same, though the
spruces were smaller. It was, for the first time, a positive
pleasure to lead the horses. The trails were fine, hard
moose trails, winding about between the mountains, and
the fords were easy. We decided to stop and make
camp early in the afternoon in order that each might
climb a mountain to make a reconnaissance for sheep.
After catching a few graylings I started to climb the
ranges on the west side. Mosquitoes had become more
abundant and troublesome as we travelled up the creek,
but on the higher slopes they increased to a swarm. At
this camp it was necessary, as a protection against them,
to wear gloves and a netting falling from our hats to the
shoulders. This proved perfectly satisfactory, for while
wearing the netting one could look through the field-
glasses and even sight well over the rifle. At times, in
the sun, it was a little hot and occasionally one or two
mosquitoes penetrated inside; but on the whole it neu-
tralized the mosquito evil with little inconvenience, and
in the wind, or cold of the early morning, when the
mosquitoes were not active, it could be fastened up

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THE TRIP TO THE OGILVIE ROCKIES. ‘21

around the brim of the hat, ready to drop instantly when
needed.

Following caribou and sheep trails I gradually as-
cended to the top of the mountain and, not seeing fresh
signs, seated myself and scanned the whole country about,
but not an animal was visible. As all my hopes had
been based on finding sheep on the divide ranges, I was
not disappointed, and the scene was a compensation.
The mountains extended in all directions, range after
range, peak after peak, dome after dome. ‘There were
whole mountains in red; others of white limestone, re-
lieved in places by streaks of iron-stained red rock, shin-
ing in the sun; there were snow cornices glistening un-
der every crest and precipice; bands of snow streaking
the slopes, interspersed with bright patches of green—
a vast sea of ridges, basins, rock masses, and jagged
crests all blending in wonderful harmony above the
timbered valley of the curving stream. It was my first
view from a summit of the Ogilvie Rockies. During my
descent the fresh tracks of a cow and calf moose were
seen at the head of a canon, and at eleven I came into
camp. ‘The others had seen no sheep signs.

CHAPTER II
ON THE SHEEP RANGES—1904

uly 16.—From the mountain top I had traced the
course of the creek to a point about four miles above
camp, where it was lost behind an obstructing ridge
which projected at right angles to the main ranges.
There it was close to timber-line and evidently the main
divide was not far up the stream. We decided to advance
four miles, make a camp, and remain for a few days to
investigate the country. Though obliged to ford the
creek several times, we travelled mostly on the west
bank, on the way shooting some willow ptarmigan—
beautiful birds even in their inconspicuous summer
plumage. Red-squirrels were more abundant as we pro-
ceeded, although the spruces became smaller. ‘Three
miles from camp a large branch entered the creek, flow-
ing from the east between high mountain ranges. A mile
beyond this, where the main stream forked into two creeks
of equal volume, was a small meadow, about three hun-
dred feet wide, filled with excellent grass scattered among
the clumps of willow and dwarf birch. It was early in
the afternoon when we arrived, and some graylings were
caught while lunch was being cooked.

At 3.30 we left camp, each taking a different direc-
tion to look for signs of game. I followed up the west

22

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ON THE SHEEP RANGES 23

fork, with the intention of reaching the divide if possi-
ble. The creek, fifteen to thirty feet wide, descended
so abruptly that the source could not be far off. There
were very few moose tracks so far up the creek, but sev-
eral ptarmigan were flushed, some with young, and red-
squirrels kept chattering as they skipped about. The
tinkling notes of the water-ousel often sounded from the
creek, and once the exquisite harlequin duck was seen
floating down among the rocks in the foaming torrent. We
had seen harlequin ducks all the way along the creek,
and I have since come to associate these beautiful birds
with wild, dashing, northern streams. The walking was
excellent and, two miles up, the stream forked again,
one branch coming from a basin to the south-west, the
other from the west. Just below this junction was a
canon, two hundred feet long, filled with snow and ice.
I walked through it and found myself at the limit of
timber, mosquitoes still swarming about me. Farther up
the west fork I saw the diggings and fairly fresh dung of
a grizzly, and a mile and a half farther on the creek
broke out from vast, bare, rolling hills on the south, fed
by numerous streams formed from the melting snow
above the canons and deep ravines. Here at last was
the divide. From the summit could be seen the waters
flowing into the Tatonduk River, or Sheep Creek as it
is locally called, where it enters the Yukon River,
below Eagle City. Coal Creek has its sources in the
numerous small streams flowing together, all formed
from melting snow in the surrounding mountains.

The divide at this point was covered with green, rolling

24 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

pastures, more than a mile wide and two miles long. On
the south it was bordered by a high mountain chain, with
a continuous jagged crest swelling up into high peaks,
from which numerous spurs projected at right angles, en-
closing deep and narrow basins, the bottoms of which
consisted of rolling meadows of green grass. On the north
was a range of mountains, more broken by peaks, crags,
and cafions, all sloping down to Tatonduk River waters,
finally forming a long, smooth, rolling ridge. Heavy
banks of snow lined every crest and peak; the cafions and
ravines were filled with it and the mountain-sides appeared
streaked with white. White limestone, dark, almost black,
chert, and iron-stained rock, glowing red, all in sharp con-
trast, characterize these northern ranges. The summit
pastures sloped gently toward the west, where another
creek, formed between the ridges, flowed on to the Taton-
duk River. A mile down, looking through an opening in
the timber, I could see the creek, filled with snow and ice,
glistening under the sunlight like a bright lake, while
beyond it flowed through vast meadows toward the
north and again curved west at the foot of the ranges, not
far distant, which separated the waters of the Peel River
from those of the Yukon. Dwarf birch and willow were
scattered about the smooth, green sward, whose surface
was soft and broken by tiny rivulets flowing to the creek
below.

I seated myself and turned my field-glasses toward the
south range. Suddenly within the field, two miles dis-
tant, appeared four sheep feeding on the saddle below
the peak of a spur connecting with the range. More care-

ON THE SHEEP RANGES 25

ful scrutiny proved them to be ewes. My first sight of
the northern mountain-sheep! At last we were in the
sheep ranges! As we had eaten no good meat except a
few grouse and ptarmigan for eight days, and our bacon
was being rapidly consumed, I immediately began a stalk,
walking as rapidly as possible down the west slope of the
divide on soft mossy ground, in some places miry and
filled with willows. Now and then I paused to watch the
sheep, which kept feeding quietly in the same place. At
the northern end of the spur, then opposite me, the slope
breaks, forming a cliff several hundred feet high, trav-
ersing the end of the mountain east and west. This cliff
curves at the eastern extremity, cutting the smooth slope
which, at the brink, rises steeply in a succession of benches
to the top of the spur-mountain. ‘The spur encloses a
beautiful basin of rolling meadows in an amphitheatre of
mountains.

I started to climb at the west edge of the cliffs, thereby
keeping out of sight of the sheep. After climbing per-
haps three hundred feet I looked up under the precipice,
and at its base suddenly saw a grizzly bear walking on
some snow toward the curving cliff, where it cuts the east
slope. Quickly dropping, I almost slid to the foot,
where I could conceal myself in the willows along the
stream flowing from the basin. As the bear proceeded, I
advanced parallel with it for about a hundred yards,
until it climbed over a steep snow-bank to the top of the
cliff and stood on the edge of the east slope. As it
ascended this snow-bank I noticed a small cub playing
about it. It was then 10 p. M. The bear stood for a

26 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

moment on the highest bench at the edge of the cliff, about
five hundred yards above me, and began to dig out a
ground-squirrel.

Ground-squirrels, Citellus plesius, were everywhere.
All the pastures and mountain slopes were filled with
their holes and one was continually in sight of them,
sitting straight up on their hind legs or running for their
burrows. The most characteristic sound of the higher
parts of the northern wilderness is their shrill chatter
when they see a supposed enemy approaching, or when
they disappear in their holes.

Through the glasses the bear could be seen digging,
making the earth fly in all directions. At times she would
sit and dig, again rise and strike the ground in apparent
anger, twist around, watch for a moment, and then begin
digging again. The squirrels always have several! holes,
connected by underground channels, and the bear kept
digging out one after another, now and then making a
jump to the next, evidently knowing that the squirrel
was about to run out. Then she would again dig, until,
finally, the squirrel was pocketed, a=.} she bear made a
great pounce and grabbed it with both forepaws. As
her back was turned, the operation of devouring her prey
could not be seen. While the bear was digging for the
squirrel, the cub raced about, now sitting still a moment,
then jumping up and running off playing, quite indiffer-
ent to the mother’s task.

After spending twenty minutes digging and tearing
out the hard earth until she caught the squirrel, the bear
stepped to the edge of the cliff, took a long look below,

ON THE SHEEP RANGES 27

started quartering down the slope, and disappeared. The
wind was in my favor, so, after waiting five minutes, I
started. The way was very steep, and because of the
succession of benches it was impossible to see more than
twenty or thirty feet above each one after it was reached.
Holding my rifle cocked, expecting to meet the bear
close as I came to the top of each bench, I climbed one
after another, always very slowly to keep my breath for
a steady shot, until I arrived on the last, when I saw
the bear slowly walking along the upper surface of the
basin close to the mountain-side, about three hundred
yards off. She kept an irregular course, often pausing
and looking for ground-squirrels. I followed rapidly, try-
ing to gain, but always stopping when she stopped, ready
to drop low if she faced in my direction. After gaining a
hundred yards, I sat down, rested my elbows on my
knees, and aiming at her left hind quarter as she paused,
fired, and heard the bullet strike her. She jumped,
turned, and stood with forelegs extended forward, appar-
ently panting. The cub at once began to run about
bawling. The bear dropped to a sitting posture for a
moment and then rose. I fired a second shot at her
foreshoulder and heard the bullet strike her. She gave
a great jump and stood until a third shot was fired, when
she fell, kicked once or twice, and was dead.

The cub was still running about crying, and I went
slowly toward it, intending if possible to capture it for
the New York Zoological Park. When within fifty feet
the cub saw me. It ran around, looking at me with
great curiosity, sniffing again and again, approached a few

28 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

feet, then continued to run back and forth. Finally, as
I kept coming closer, it stood on its hind feet, placed its
forepaws on the dead mother and began spitting at me.
I stooped low and crept within six feet, ready to place a
noose, made from my belt and the straps from the kodak
and field-glass, over its head, when suddenly it pushed
forward its nose, sniffed at me several times in terror,
turned and rushed up the mountain slope. I started to
pursue, but it distanced me so rapidly that the chase
was soon given up.

No one who reads this experience should miss the
significance of the cub’s final action. It was a tiny cub,
born the preceding winter, and could have received no
impressions of human beings from experience. It did not
fear the sight of man, but the scent of man immediately
inspired it with terror. Fear of the odor of man was
clearly an instinct. What was the origin of this instinct?
Surely, in that remote part of the country, the cub’s
ancestors could not have experienced a fear of the scent
of man for generations numerous enough to have the
trait registered in the nervous organization and fixed,
so that it was transmitted by heredity to the young!
This would require frequent repetitions of the experience,
through too many generations, and it is not reasonable to
believe this possible. In my opinion this instinct had its
origin in a period so remote in the past that we have no
facts at all to explain it, and we can only affirm its exist-
ence, as clearly exhibited in this case. The instinct may
include the fear of any strange scent as hostile. All bears
with which I have had experience before or after, had

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this same instinct, and I firmly believe that it was as
potent in the grizzly bears encountered by Lewis and
Clark as in those inhabiting remote regions at the present
time. Casual observers have not always discriminated be-
tween sight and scent as they affect the action of animals.

It was then 11.30, and the mists had settled about
the crest and extended half-way down the slopes. For
a long time while I worked in the twilight, getting off
the skin, and everything was hushed and still, the wail-
ing cries of the cub sounded from the mountain top—
a weird, wild noise in this mysterious solitude. At such
an elevation it was very cold, and being lightly clad I
soon became chilled and found difficulty in handling the
bear alone, so the skin was not off until nearly two in the
morning. The head was left in so that Rungius could
sketch it. The bear was an old grizzly, fairly large, in
excellent pelage for July; its claws were very long, and
there was practically no fat on it. The first bullet
shattered the hind quarter, penetrated through the vitals,
and came out through a large hole in its side. The
other two had struck within an inch of each other, both
cutting the heart. Tired and cold, I shouldered the
heavy skin and struggled back to camp, reaching it at
5-30 in the morning. Rungius and Osgood, neither of
whom had seen any game during the day, came out
from the tent to see the skin and hear my story.

The fire was started; tea, bacon, and bread refreshed
me before the genial warmth. Now our hopes were
brightened, and with the knowledge that we had found
the game country all wasenthusiasm. I soon rolled under

30 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

my blanket, but for some time could not sleep. The
experience of the night had deeply impressed me with
the wild enchantment of the wilderness, the finding of
the divide, the sublime mountains about it, the first
sight of sheep, the unexpected meeting and killing of
the bear, my experience with the cub; the charm of the
location while skinning the bear high up on the green
slope of the mountain in the midnight twilight; the
absence of sound save the murmur of the creek below
and the wailing of the cub pealing wildly through the
mists above; the dim outline of the summits of the
mountains to the west, their peaks tipped golden by the
sun low behind them; the mystery of all that unknown
country; the strange and beautiful lights and shadows
playing on the mountains encircling me; what more
could a lover of the wilderness and its wild life demand ?

Fuly 17.—We decided to move up the west branch
to the forks two miles above, and there make a perma-
nent camp at a point I had selected the day before, on a
high bank just at the junction, about a hundred feet
below timber-line. It was a beautiful spot; clear, open
pastures among the spruce trees were about us, numerous
dead trees for firewood were near and excellent grass for
the horses was everywhere. Mountains, with fantastic
pinnacles, peaks, and rock-turreted slopes surrounded
us, and the view down the creek was beautiful in the
extreme, as we looked along the timber frieze between the
high slopes to the massive ranges on the east. Above all,
we were close to the divide and in the heart of the best
hunting country.

ON THE SHEEP RANGES 31

Leaving the men to pitch the tents and make camp,
Rungius and I went on to the divide. From there I could
see the bear’s carcass and, thinking the cub might remain
near it, pointed it out to Rungius, who started to find and
kill the cub. I went to climb a mountain on the south, to
make a short reconnaissance and descend on the other
side to camp. The top was a broad, level flat, rather
swampy, and full of sheep and caribou tracks. Old cari-
bou tracks covered the ground, and well-worn sheep-trails
extended high up on the slopes, ridges, crests, and over
or around all the peaks. Several small birds, unknown
to me, were about, and the mice, a species known as
Microtus operarius endecus, had made their tiny trails
all through the grass. Conies, Ochotona collaris, were
heard and seen among the broken rocks of the slopes.
Their short, thin bleat afterward became a familiar sound
high up among the large broken rocks which they inhabit,
even on the mountain tops. And numerous marmots
were whistling their long, piercing calls. They were
abundant everywhere, near broken rock and in the
basins.

Passing a little beyond I looked down on the large
basin south of our camp, from which the other stream
flows to make the junction. The divide creek and this
one form the true source of Coal Creek, the volume of
which is increased by the two large creeks entering two
or three miles below. ‘The area below me really consisted
of two basins: one farther to the east, between two
precipitous spurs; the other likewise lying in mountains,
and much larger. At the bottom of the former were two

32 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

exquisite clear lakes of several acres each, continually
filled by the melting snow above. ‘The latter was in the
form of a great irregular square, at least a mile wide.
Undulating in gentle hills and wide green pastures, it
produced an impression of surpassing beauty, with great
mountains encircling it, rising up in rocks and cliffs,
culminating in sharp peaks perhaps the highest of those
in the divide ranges.

Except on the bare rocks, all the mountains were more
or less covered with lichen-moss, which, in turn, was spans
gled with exquisite small dots of flowers, some bright blue,
some pink, and some crimson. Flowers abounded over
all the mountain-slopes, basins, and valleys. Dryas was
common everywhere, also a species of cranberry, Vaccin-
tum vitiside@a, the leaves of which were always slippery
to walk on. I sat for some time looking about through
my field-glasses, but saw nothing and, descending on the
east side of the slope to the creek which runs through a
deep gorge, had started toward camp when I met Osgood
setting his traps for small mammals.

Together we reached camp at ten, and found Rungius
there with the body of the cub. He had seen it walking
under the same cliffs and shot it.

That night was clear and cold, the thermometer going
to twenty-eight degrees before morning. When we first
settled in this camp mosquitoes were at their worst and
very troublesome. All of us slept under mosquito netting.
The horses suffered the most, and we had to build several
smudges and keep them going all day so that the animals
could gather around them. If these smudges were not

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kept up, the horses would come about the tents and
almost beg for them. They would stand about them all
day, and feed mostly at night when the swarm tem-
porarily retired from the cold. They scarcely ever went
far from camp and constantly returned, as if coming back
home, and it was not necessary to keep them hobbled.
In a few days most of the mosquitoes seemed to leave the
vicinity of the tents, though enough remained to compel
us to take precautions to avoid them.

Fuly 18.—We were ready to start at eight in the
morning; and, asking the men to flesh the bearskin, I
started for the divide. Rungius had already preceded
me, intending to descend the stream on the other side.
I can never endure a companion or a “guide” when
actually hunting. I want to be alone among the hills
and wild mountains, with freedom to observe. In the
solitude of the wilderness, the animals, birds, rocks and
flowers become companions. I carried my ricksack,
which contained a kodak, a sweater, a tin cup, tea, a
little sugar, chocolate, and a cracker. While hunting I
never wore a coat, but could put on the sweater when
it became cold. My footgear, leather moccasins, was
nearly perfect for this country. Lightness and noiseless-
ness were the main objects required, and moccasins were
not slippery except on the bearberry or cranberry leaves,
and at times on wet slopes. One soon learns how to
walk in them, what ground to avoid, and how to descend
over rock and grass slopes. My rifle was a Mannlicher,
256 calibre—the same one that I had already. used for
big game during the three previous years. The car- .

34 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

tridges were jacketed with nickel, split at four places, and
the lead was exposed at the tip.

It was afternoon when I came out on the divide, and
made directly for the bear’s carcass, intending to climb
the spur and ascend along the saddle to the crest of the
main range. A few moose tracks were seen on the
divide, made undoubtedly when the moose cross over,
since feed is so scarce there that they never loiter.
Near the carcass a marmot whistled; in many places
ptarmigan were flushed, and Alaska jays, Perisoreus can-
adensis fumtfrons, were abundant everywhere in the tim-
ber, and in the willows above. A pair of golden eagles
were soaring along the crest, always a beautiful sight
and a constant feature of those northern ranges.

The main range here extends parallel with the divide
clear to the meadows of the creek on the west, perhaps
twelve miles distant, and east to the north and south
range on the west side of Coal Creek. The northern
slopes, facing the divide, are very steep and broken into
precipices and projecting spurs. ‘The south slope, then
visible for the first time, inclines somewhat evenly to
another divide, broken here and there by gorges, and
sends out an occasional spur. The rim of the crest is
uneven, now rising into high peaks, now capped by
jagged boulders and pinnacles, and again extending
evenly for a hundred yards more, to the next peak. In
places on the south side, before the incline becomes
abrupt, are green pastures, where grass, weeds, and moss
were abundant—all excellent feeding for sheep and cari-
bou. The snow is confined to northerly slopes where it

ON THE SHEEP RANGES 35

occurs in cornices below the crest, under the cliffs, and
in the hollows, gorges, and furrows.

I walked along toward the west, carefully scanning
the country ahead through my field-glasses. Mosquitoes
swarmed as much as ever, even on the peaks. Soon a
heavy rain fell and it was cold. I crouched under a
rock, and in half an hour it ceased. Again I went for-
ward, now crossing a pasture to examine the slopes below,
then returning diagonally to the rim of the crest so that I
could see the country on both sides.

A cafion cutting the south slope was reached after
three o’clock, and well below, eight hundred yards dis-
tant on the other side, I saw twelve fairly large rams
feeding in a grassy place on the slope. Immediately
dropping low, I looked at them through the field-glasses.
At last, before me was the main object of my trip to
those northern wilds; beautiful they were, glistening
white in the sun notwithstanding a brownish stain, and
game in every motion. Most of them carried fair horns,
well spread, and all had black tails. They fed nervously
and kept constantly on the move, a few often running
with alertness, and every moment one or another would
throw up its head to look, either up or down. I re-
mained motionless, flat on the ground, among some rocks,
watching every movement. How to stalk them was a
puzzle. The cafion was deep with almost perpendicular
sides and led up to the crest of the mountain before it
could be crossed. It was not possible to descend and
then stalk up in plain sight from below, and, besides,
they were gradually feeding upward. Their movements

36 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

soon solved the problem, for they were surely working
up toward the crest and a little in my direction.

Then they began to ascend faster and did not pause
so much to feed. Some would suddenly run a short dis-
tance, jump to a stand-still, and look. But I was well
concealed and they did not see me. There was little
wind and it was in my favor. Before I realized it, they
had reached the top, five hundred yards away. All stood
on the edge looking at the country below.

Only those who have been high up above the valleys
and woods, among the peaks and crags, and there have
seen the mountain ram in his element, can appreciate
the sight or realize the emotion surging through me as I
beheld them. ‘They stood like marble silhouettes, erect,
rigid, on the sky-line of that wonderful landscape—the
essence of boldness, grace, energy, self-confidence, wild-
ness! For five minutes they were motionless, sweeping
the country below with their keen eyes. Unless hidden
from sight I do not believe any moving object could have
escaped them.

Then one jumped below the rim; the rest quickly
followed; there was a slight sound of falling rocks. They
had disappeared like phantoms. Not then experienced
in the habits of the northern sheep, I thought that my
chance had come. ‘They might come back, but it seemed
more likely that they were seeking a spot to rest on the
other slope, and shortly would reach some point in a
place too rough fora stalk. After waiting a few moments,
I started upward toward the head of the cafion and had
gone a hundred yards, when two small rams suddenly

ON THE SHEEP RANGES 37

reappeared on the crest. I dropped, but too late; they
had seen me. By some note of alarm the others were
attracted, all coming up with a spring, their eyes fastened
on me as if by magic. The chance for a close shot was
lost.

One of the leaders started to run across the mountain-
side, followed by the whole band. As they ran, I fired
four times, and a smaller one turned and ran down the
canon, the rest keeping on toward a high peak. It was
evident that the single one was wounded, for through
the glasses blood could be seen about its head and fore-
legs. Some were just disappearing, when four stopped
under the peak and looked back, while the others went
over the top. The wounded ram seemed to be walking
with difficulty, yet kept slowly on to the bottom of the
cafion, and then crossed to another mountain. Descend-
ing half-way to the foot of the slope, I stopped, hoping
that the ram would lie down; meanwhile, the other four
high up near the peak were feeding. The wounded ram
travelled some distance along the side of the mountain
and lay down on a rock. I began to descend in plain
sight (concealment was impossible), but he saw me from
a long distance and was up and travelling at once. He
crossed the mountain-side and disappeared high up over
the other end. I went down, crossed the basin, and
climbed the side of the mountain, but could see no sign
of blood or tracks at the point where the ram was last
seen, nor could he be seen even with the field-glasses. A
short gully separated this mountain from another rough
range, where he had probably gone and so escaped me.

38 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

Back near the high peak I saw the four rams lying down
on some high rocks near the top.

I decided to descend to timber-line a couple of miles
down the creek to pass the night, and climb for the rams
early the next morning. I soon made a fire on the
border of the forest, but there was no water near and it
was necessary to descend a long distance to the stream
for it. Having done this, and while cutting spruce
boughs for a bed, the water on the fire was overturned
and a second long trip to the creek was necessary. At
midnight I had tea with half the chocolate and half the
cracker. It was very cold and my short night was
broken by intervals of sleeping and waking. As I fell
asleep, the head-net would settle against my face and the
mosquitoes would soon wake me. My tobacco had been
lost, which was a real deprivation. The memory of the
rams moving with virile gameness on the rocky slopes
kept lingering between my snatches of sleep, until I rose,
at five, and went half a mile down to a stream coming
from a canon, which cut the slope I intended to ascend.

The tea was quickly made from the tea-ball used the
night before, and half a cracker and a small piece of
chocolate provided my only food that day until late at
night. After eating I began to work up the cafon, now
through deep gorges, now climbing around them, at
length coming out at a point where the view was open
for half a mile along the stream to the snow cornice,
above which the crest continued to rise unevenly to the
peak near where the rams had been loitering the evening
before. On a steep slope, a hundred feet above the

BULL CARIBOU ON MOUNTAIN IN OGILVIE ROCKIES.

Drawing by Carl Rungius.

ON THE SHEEP RANGES 39

snow which filled the bed of the stream for a long dis-
tance below the crest, were two large dark animals. My
glasses showed them to be caribou; one very dark with
striking horns, the other lighter, with horns more spike-
like. The wind was blowing from me to them, and
immediately I began to circle up the mountain side for
the purpose of approaching with a favorable wind. The
stalk was made slowly to a point above them and then
directly down toward them, always in plain sight. They
kept quietly feeding, keeping their heads close to the
ground, without once raising them to look about in the
manner of a deer, sheep, or moose. The sun was brightly
shining and mosquitoes were so numerous that my head-
net could not be removed. With more than necessary
caution I advanced to within three hundred yards and
took a sitting position, elbows on knees. Singling out
the darker, larger-horned animal, I fired, and distinctly
heard the bullet strike him. The ball struck his hind
quarters, breaking one leg, passing through the stomach
and out on the other side. As the animal had kept walk-
ing and changing positions, this was the only good
exposure presented for a shot. The other at once began
trotting uphill, and I am somewhat ashamed to confess
that I fired at it twice, and then, having cooled down,
did not shoot again, but deliberately allowed it to go,
thinking that I had missed. It soon stopped and looked
back, then trotted ahead, pausing several times to uri-
nate or look back, until it disappeared over the mountain
range. The other was staggering, and in a moment
dropped, rolled down the slope, and landed in the bed

40 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

of the creek, which had cut a channel through the snow
and ice.

I had great difficulty in pulling the carcass up on the
snow, where I photographed, measured, and gralloched
it, pestered by dense clouds of mosquitoes attracted by
the blood. I decided to leave the caribou where it was,
and bring Rungius back the next day to sketch and
study it in the flesh and get the impression of its natural
environment. It was a fine large bull, in thick, dark
summer-coat, its mane just beginning to turn white; its
horns in velvet of a rich, dark, grayish-brown color, well
palmated at the ends, with twenty-one points on one side,
fourteen on the other, and both brow antlers particularly
well developed, giving beauty and proportion to the head.
The length of the caribou was seven feet, the height at
foreshoulder four feet. These were the first caribou I
had ever seen, except a glimpse I had had of four running
through the thick woods of New Brunswick in 1897. The
caribou of the Ogilvies were later identified by Osgood
as the true barren-ground species—Rangifer arcticus.

I continued the ascent on the snow directly up to the
crest. Proceeding along the rising rim, I came to the
final climb of perhaps five hundred yards, necessary to
surmount the peak and command the mountain from
above. This was the highest peak on the range border-
ing the divide. Its north side consisted of cliffs, preci-
pices, and steep slopes falling to a basin below. The
top and southern slopes were all broken rock, stained so
dark that, from a distance, in contrast to the others of
the range, the mountain appeared black. The ascent

ON THE SHEEP RANGES 4l

was not difficult, though caution was required not to make
a noise while climbing over the broken rock.

Going slowly to keep my breath, I came near the top,
where the surface rose more gradually to form the point
of the peak, when suddenly the heads and horns of a ram
appeared on the sky-line to the right, not twenty feet
away. He looked at me for a moment and disappeared
with a spring. Hastening to the point I saw a fine ram
running ahead of three smaller ones directly up the peak.
He stopped only a few feet below the summit. Seating
myself, I aimed quickly and fired. He dropped, rolled a
few yards, and was caught in the broken rock. The
others disappeared around the slope beyond. Running
forward over the loose rock on the steep incline, I caught
him by the horns and held him while he was kicking in
death struggles, to prevent him from rolling down. The
bullet had passed through his foreshoulders at the base
of the neck. He was a very fat ram of seven or eight
years, with shapely, spreading horns. His tail was black,
his body pure white, though the short new pelage was
stained brownish from the ferruginous rock.

My exultation at this first success in accomplishing
the purpose of my trip was complete. For some time I
sat looking at the wonderful landscape about and below
me. On every side stretched the mountain ranges until
the vision was lost in a sea of tumbled peaks, all dotted
and patched with the glistening snow; below were basins
and wild, green valleys clothed with green and bluish
timber—a vast, silent, wilderness reaching on the east
to the Mackenzie River, on the west to the Yukon.

42 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

After photographing the ram as he fell I made a
hollow in the rocks a few feet below, dragged him down
to it, and began taking off his skin. It soon began to
shower and grow cold with gusts of wind. Two ravens
circled about almost in frenzy as I worked, and at times
a golden eagle sailed along the crest and soared above.
Packing the skin and head in the riicksack, I descended
the precipitous and rocky east side of the peak to the
edge of the north rim, hoping to find some descent to
the basin below from which the divide pastures could be
gained. Resting every few steps on account of my load,
I finally reached the grass slope, which, after the rain, was
very slippery and managed to zigzag down to the gorge
of a stream at the foot of the mountain. While resting
there, what was my disgust to notice that my field-glasses
had been left above at the carcass, so it was necessary
to return for them. Again descending and picking up
my load I tramped two miles up the swampy, brush-cov-
ered ground across the next divide, and descended toward
camp. Lack of food, long hours of climbing, together
with the chill and wetting by showers, had so weakened
me that my legs almost gave out and obliged me to rest
every few steps while walking up the soft ground of the
divide. Camp was reached at 10.30 at night, and rest
before a large fire, food, and my pipe restored my
strength.

The day before, Rungius, while climbing the south
range of the divide, had seen three rams running up a
round, smooth mountain on the north side and followed
them, They saw him, ran over on the other side, and

‘6r ATO[ «HOON NAMOUA AHL
‘6m ATAf{ aaTIIM ‘nosrvag NI IHOAVO SVM GNV ‘SGUVA Mad V GalIOd ‘aaddoUd FFT,,

ON THE SHEEP RANGES 43

disappeared. Arriving at the top he saw a large band
of ewes feeding near, and killed four. Both he and
Osgood had returned to the same place with Spahr,
Gage, and two horses to bring back the meat. The
ewes were still loitering about, and Osgood had killed
one. The heads, skins, and meat had been brought
back to camp and the larder was well stocked.

Some of the ewes killed were pure white; others had
many gray hairs on the back, and stripes down the legs,
intermediate in color between Ours dalli and Ouis fannini,
and all had black tails.

Fuly 20.—The next day we all remained in camp,
skinning and preparing the specimens. In the morning,
after Rungius had made several sketches of my ram’s
head, I skinned it. Jays now flocked about us in great
excitement, feeding on the raw meat and other camp
refuse. Red squirrels also were attracted, and mosqui-
toes were still with us.

We were feasting on meat. To my taste the meat of
mountain sheep, killed between July and October, easily
excels that of any other game animal on this continent.
It is rich, fat mutton with a game flavor. Nor do I tire
of it as of venison; for a continuous diet never dimin-
ished my eagerness for it. After October, and until late
in June, it is not so good, and during the winter and
spring months very poor, quite without flavor.

Until we left this camp the days were warm, some-
times hot, and at night the lowest temperatures registered
by the thermometer varied from twenty-eight to forty de-
grees above zero Fahrenheit. It never rained contin-

44 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

uously, but often showered. On the mountain crests it
was usually very cold all through the day, especially when
the wind blew.

Fuly 21.—After breakfasting Rungius, Gage, and I
started to get the caribou head. Spahr was to follow
with two horses and wait at the foot of the divide for
us to bring it down to him. After we reached the sum-
mit and were proceeding down the gentle descent, forty
or fifty ewes and lambs were seen feeding on a grassy
slope of the rough mountain to the north. This was part
of the band Rungius and Osgood had disturbed. On
the mountain side, several hundred feet up on a bank of
snow, we saw a black spot which Rungius thought was
an animal. The field-glasses confirmed this, but we
could not make out what it was, because it was lying
down. It seemed too small for a moose, and its horns
could only be suspected. Rungius started forward to
stalk it, and went rapidly down the divide, then climbed
the side of the mountain and gradually approached the
snow-bank. Watching through the glasses I saw the
animal rise, stand a few moments, and walk aimlessly a
few feet away from the snow, quite unconscious of dan-
ger. Soon we heard a shot, then two more, and it fell.
It was a yearling cow caribou, and almost black. We
gralloched and left it to be brought to camp later by
the horses, where Rungius could sketch it.

We then went through the timber at the lower end of
the divide, crossed a ridge and entered a small, deep
basin, flushing ptarmigan at short intervals, and climbed
a very steep slope opposite the carcass of the caribou,

ON THE SHEEP RANGES 45

which was on the other side of the crest. In this and
the other basins, in the pastures, and on the clear areas,
grizzly bear diggings were abundant. More grizzly bears
come to such places to dig out squirrels early in the spring
than at other seasons, and by June they begin to roam
and are not often seen. ‘The bear already killed was the
last we saw on that trip. Abundant diggings, however,
do not indicate abundance of bears, as one will dig over
much country. All the diggings that I saw near the
divide could have been made by two or three bears.

We reached the crest and, going forward, looked down
a few hundred yards below on the snow where the carcass
lay. Not far below it, on a bank of snow close to the
creek, was a small ram standing rigidly, with apparent
alertness, looking up directly at us. Rungius at once
started to circle around the slope and stalk him. The ram
at times kept licking the snow, now and then looking up
at us, and I could not understand his indifference. We
saw Rungius, when he had approached sufficiently near,
sit down and fire. The ram jumped as if hit, and walked
on the snow out of sight, while Rungius ran and dis-
appeared in the gorge. Gage and I hastened down and
saw him sitting near the dead ram. The bullet having
passed through its hind quarters, it had been unable to
escape. It proved to be the young ram I had wounded
and followed three days before. My bullet had struck
and shattered his lower jaw and he was unable to eat.
The poor creature was already reduced to skin and
bones, and had evidently suffered from thirst. He had
wandered back to find the band, but was growing too

46 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

weak to travel and would shortly have died. I felt great
pity for him.

Could the sportsman but know the suffering of the
animals he wounds but fails to get—a too common expe-
rience—would his enthusiasm diminish? The hunter-
sportsman is a strange combination, possessed by the
fascination of hunting and killing the animals that he
loves—for every true hunter-sportsman loves the wild
animals. In their wild life they fascinate him; all his
interest is aroused in watching them; his pulse is quick-
ened; his feeling for nature becomes deeper, fuller, and
more complete. I never knew a true hunter, be he the
rough pioneer or the cultured man, who did not have an
intense fondness for the wild animals, a strong interest in
studying them and protecting them, and also a desire to
alleviate and prevent their suffering; yet there still per-
sists his paradoxical love of hunting and killing them.

The Indian finds in the fascination of the hunt a
gratification of those inherited instincts produced and
implanted in him by centuries of the struggle for exist-
ence. His ancestors had to hunt or starve, and in many
places on this continent to-day the Indian must hunt or
starve. He must seek food, and the excitement of the
chase develops a fascination for it, intensified perhaps by
inherited instinct. Part of this same instinct is our own
heritage. It may be the mainspring which prompts us
to set forth and suffer hardship.

Primitive feeling for nature was saturated with the
supernatural and easily took the form of a reverence for
natural phenomena, which in turn led to the develop-

ON THE SHEEP RANGES 47

ment of mythological conceptions. It persists among
most primitive men to-day, but is lost to us—replaced by
the esthetic feeling slowly and gradually evolved from it.
In civilized man the hunting instinct has become broad-
ened and transformed. We have learned to love and con-
template nature. We go back to the wilderness, and
the more primitive it is, the more strongly we feel its
charm. But the wilderness must include the animals.
Our active sympathies, developed by civilization, extend
also to them. We feel for them along with their wilder-
ness environment. We learn to know and love them.
They become inseparable from the mysterious emotions
aroused by mountains, valleys, woods, and waters. They
also arouse, kindle, and set glowing the primitive instinct
to hunt and kill. The pursuit leads us to nature which
in turn leads us to the pursuit. We cannot deny that this
must react upon our race. Endurance, strength, skill,
boldness, independence, manliness, are the qualities pro-
duced.

The time may come when most of us will undertake
to work, endure, and suffer the hardships of the wilder-
ness, prompted only by love of it for its own sake. But
to many of us, in our present stage, hunting prevents the
mere contemplative indulgence in the beautiful from pro-
ducing effeminateness.

We skinned the ram and went up a short distance to
the carcass of the caribou. It was photographed sev-
eral times, and then, after cutting off the head, Rungius
and Gage started back over the crest to take it down to
the horses and return to camp. It was 6.30 in the even-

48 THE WILDERNESS OF "THE UPPER YUKON

ing, but I could not resist remaining to look for more
sheep and hoping perhaps to find the remainder of that
band of rams. Following a sheep-trail along the crest,
after a difficult and dangerous climb, I finally reached the
top of a high limestone peak. ‘This was the last high
peak on the south range bordering the divide. Toward
the west the mountain sloped downward to vast meadows
bordering a creek running north-east. The slopes con-
tinued in great expanses of hills and rolling meadows, cut
here and there by deep cafions; most of the country was
green; but all the exposed limestone glowed white in the
setting sun. Later in the season this broad area of green
pastures, canons, streams, and rivulets, must be a magnifi-
cent range for caribou, as earlier it must be a feeding-
ground for grizzly bears. This was demonstrated during
a subsequent tramp over it by innumerable tracks and
signs of both, and also by shed horns of caribou. Sheep-
trails crossed it, intersecting from all directions, always
along the higher ridges and knolls. All trails had worn
through the earth to the limestone, thus marking the
country with irregular white lines.

For a long time I watched through the field-glass, but
nothing appeared. The sun went below the horizon,
leaving a brilliantly colored sky glowing over the distant
ranges toward the Tatonduk River. It was after ten
and, not wishing to lose the beauty of the landscape under
the twilight glow, I tramped hour after hour along the
crest of the range continuing all the way to the basin
south of camp. The ground-squirrels, marmots, conies,
birds, and even the mosquitoes were hushed, and a

ON THE SHEEP RANGES 49

solemn stillness prevailed. A deep calm pervaded the
basins, meadows, and wilderness below, causing a weird
impression of the solitude. Not a sound of any kind
was audible; not a creature visible. Never did I feel
more alone. In this northern twilight there was just
enough darkness to cause a feeling of awe at the dim
and silent grandeur of the surroundings. I slowly walked
on all night, from mountain to mountain, and descended
to the gorge of the stream in the south basin, proceeded
through it with difficulty, and went down the creek tow-
ard camp. At three in the morning a heavy frost spread
over the country, and a little later, above and below, all
glittered and sparkled like diamonds in the rising sun.

Fuly 22.—Arriving in camp at 5.30 A.M. I made a fire,
had some tea, a bite to eat, and then slept until two in
the afternoon. As rain threatened, the rest of the day
was passed in camp. Rungius had the body of the cow
caribou suspended by ropes and propped by stakes, so
that he could change it to various attitudes and sketch it,
and Osgood prepared the small mammals that he had
taken in his traps. Wolverines were common in the vi-
cinity, but only one was seen by Osgood. Miunks were
abundant along the creek near camp. Arctic weasels
were there, though none were caught in the traps, and a
few martens undoubtedly existed in the timber along
the creek. The Dawson red-backed mouse and the In-
terior vole were the only two species of mice observed
near timber-line.

The day before Osgood had climbed a mountain
rising from the basin south of camp, and on it had found

50 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

several ewes and lambs. But where was the remainder
of that band of rams, or others? That question was
disturbing me; therefore, I determined to go to the lower
end of the divide for a day or two and hunt them alone.

CHAPTER IIT
SEARCHING FOR RAMS—1904

Fuly 23.—The horses had disappeared, and Spahr and
Gage consumed a long time looking for them, and finally
found them not far away, standing perfectly still on a
side hill. On Mike we put my blanket, a narrow piece
of mosquito netting, the frying-pan, teapot, and a few
provisions. Spahr rode Shorty and Gage and I walked to
the divide. Arriving on top, four sheep were seen just
below the crest of the spur above the place where the
bear had been killed. They were two miles off, and
appeared like white specks on the mountain; but even at
that distance they had seen us and were nervous, bunch-
ing immediately and moving about with uncertainty.
The glasses showed that they were rams and I quickly
planned a stalk.

Going down into the ravine until out of their sight, I
climbed to the foot of the cliffs, from where I could
ascend the mountain on the west side near the peak and
come out above them. In the broken rocks at the foot
of the cliffs were numerous marmots which kept continu-
ally whistling, and I was fearful that they might alarm
the rams. The surface for two hundred yards, reaching
to a point not far from the top, consisted of small, loose,

broken rock, over which I had to proceed with the great-
51

52 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

est caution, as the rams were very near on the other side
of the crest. It was a very steep slope and unless I care-
fully chose my footing, the rock would slide and fall,
making much noise. In such places moccasins are
superior to all other footgear. I could carefully feel the
surface with my big toe, and at the right spot wedge
the toes in the uneven spaces in a manner not possible
with stiff soles. Besides, the moccasins were noiseless
on hard rock. ‘The rock slide was crossed successfully
to a grassy space up which I went more rapidly to the
peak, paying no attention to the wind, which was blow-
ing directly from me to the rams. Going slightly to the
right and descending a little, I looked below, but did not
see them. As I was cautiously retreating to look over the
other side, the horns of the rams were suddenly seen on
the sky-line just below the peak and not fifty feet away.
At the same moment the sheep ran and I fired at one,
which came in sight for an instant, but evidently shot
over it. Running forward, I saw them rushing across
the saddle, a ram of good size behind three smaller ones.
Quickly seating myself and aiming at the larger ram as
he was running, now two hundred yards away, I fired and
he suddenly left the others, continued a few yards down
the slope and dropped dead. The others had now
crossed the saddle, ascended fifty yards more, and stood
looking back for a few moments before they again ran
and disappeared along the broken slopes. All this was
within six hundred yards of the spot where I had killed
the bear. The ram lay a hundred yards below, stretched
out at the head of a snow-bank, down which I pulled

“WE LOADED THE RAM ON MIKE,” JULY 23.

Photograph by Carl Rungius.
1. POINT WHERE RAM WAS KILLED, JULY 19. 2. POINT WHERE RAM WAS KILLED, JULY 23.
3. POINT WHERE BEAR WAS KILLED, JULY 16.

Sie

SEARCHING FOR RAMS 53

him to the bare ground and drew out the entrails, while
Gage and Spahr, who had witnessed the whole stalk,
were coming up with the horses. We loaded the ram on
Mike, and Spahr immediately started with him for camp.
I was delighted to send a whole ram to Rungius, who
could now study and sketch it in the flesh. He was a
fine ram with seven rings; his horns were of the spread-
ing type, twenty-five inches from tip to tip.

From this point Gage and IJ went to timber-line at the
lower end of the divide and made camp, after which he
returned to the main camp leaving me alone. A piece of
mutton was soon cooked and with crackers and tea, made
my supper. Two willow sticks were bent in the form
of a bow and placed parallel, ten inches apart with the
ends thrust in the ground, so that a small piece of mos-
quito netting could be hung on them to cover my head
while sleeping, for the mosquitoes were particularly
numerous here, perhaps worse than at any other point
near the divide.

But it was a beautiful spot, in an undisturbed wilder-
ness. The sun had gone down and the sky was aglow.
The landscape in front was seen between the spruces.
How many times in after years I have felt the beauty
of beholding mountains and far distant vistas through
spruces whose graceful tops, like sharp pointed spires,
lined the near horizon! Down through the deep descend-
ing valley, clothed with willows and evergreens, bordered
on both sides by high mountains, I could see the broad
meadow-lands and the dim mountain ranges beyond.

At last, rolling under the blanket and arranging my

54 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

head under the netting, I was quickly hummed to sleep
by the disappointed mosquitoes. But the protection did
not last long and all night I kept rearranging the netting
unsuccessfully.

Fuly 24.—In the morning it was raining and a late
start was made. To the west of my camp the range on
its south side was smooth and grassy, covered here and
there like all the other slopes, with moss and lichens. Its
north side, not visible from the divide, was rough and
rocky. The ascent was rather long; the wind was blow-
ing strong, and it soon became very cold. Old bear
diggings were common and ptarmigan were plentiful all
along the slopes. Perched near some cliffs was a rough-
legged hawk, which kept constantly crying, while across
the divide, on the opposite range, were two golden eagles,
soaring about the crests and appearing very dark against
the sky. When well up, I suddenly saw, a hundred
yards ahead, two ewes and two lambs looking at me with
apparent curiosity. They ran forward a few jumps,
stopped, and looked again. As I kept on they soon
began to run, finally disappearing over the top. The
wind was blowing directly from me to them.

Reaching the crest and looking over, I saw a startling
sight. Cliffs and precipices fell perpendicularly to a small
circular basin, surrounded on all sides by walls of rock
fifteen hundred feet or more in height. Only one or two
routes of descent were possible and these were very
dangerous.

The ewes and lambs that had fled over the mountain
top now reappeared five hundred yards away on the sky-

SEARCHING FOR RAMS 55

line. My glasses revealed twelve peacefully feeding on
the green pasture at the bottom of the basin. With the
unaided eye, it was a long time before I could make them
out and then only as tiny dots. At times, in the moun-
tains of that locality, the white sheep are most difficult to
see, since their stained coats blend so well with the color
of their environment. Many times, even when trying to
look most carefully, I was surprised at not seeing them,
when they were near and in plain sight. These ewes
soon began to run as if startled, and through the glasses
I saw a small ram, followed by another band, of thirteen
ewes and lambs, chasing them two hundred yards behind.
From what I learned later of the habits of sheep, they
were no doubt merely running across the level in sport
after feeding, and had started to go higher up to rest.
Thinking the horns of the ram were larger than they
proved to be on closer inspection, I circled around the
edge of the cliffs to a point near which I thought they
would ascend, and, sitting on the edge of a precipice,
waited. Looking across the basin, high up near the
top of a lofty mountain, I saw nine more ewes and lambs
feeding on almost perpendicular cliffs. Clinging with
their feet, they jumped about with indifference to their
hazardous location, to get the morsels of green weeds
and herbs growing among the rocks. The ewes below
were slowly feeding upward; now all banded closely to-
gether and ascended directly toward me.

It was a fascinating sight to watch the sheep. Those
on the cliffs beyond appeared like small white spots, now
and then almost sparkling in the sun. At times it was

56 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

difficult to credit the vision and realize that even sheep
could so easily move about on the sides of apparent
precipices. Those below kept moving along and were
gradually approaching the top. Nearby conies were bleat-
ing, marmots were whistling, and twice a golden eagle
soared gracefully across the basin. The sheep con-
tinued to approach upward, quite unsuspicious of my
presence, while the lambs kept frisking about, now leaping
on rocks, now running together and butting, now chasing
each other and bleating. The ewes seemed indifferent
to their gambols, but occasionally one would run about
and sport with them. In such cases it was always one
of the younger mothers. One of the ewes was particu-
larly dark, even after making allowance for her stained
pelage.

Nearer they came, directly toward me, while the small
band still continued plainly in sight on the cliffs opposite.
The ram was now in the lead and at length stood one
hundred and fifty feet directly below me as the ewes
came up around him. Pointing my rifle down over the
cliff, the barrel was almost perpendicular when I fired
at the centre of his shoulders. He dropped to a lying-
down position, panting and apparently about to roll over.
The ewes, not in the least alarmed at the report, looked
up, but none saw me, and some even continued feeding.
Thinking the ram was dying, I stood up, when seeing
me at once, they all ran across the steep side of the basin,
where it did not seem possible for even a sheep to find
a footing. The lambs easily followed, and in some way
all climbed over the crest. I was greatly surprised to

SEARCHING FOR RAMS 57

see the ram, which saw me as soon as the ewes began to
run, jump up and run downward in a diagonal direction.
Four shots were fired without hitting him, but when dis-
tant about eight hundred yards he stopped and lay down
under a large rock. I could see that he was bleeding
badly, and thinking that he would soon become stiff,
waited quietly, watching the remainder of the band,
which had again reappeared on the crest. They de-
scended a few feet below the summit and all lay down,
peacefully resting as if nothing had happened. The other
band of sheep on the high cliffs opposite had passed over
the crest. Once or twice the ram rose, staggered, and
dropped again, therefore I felt sure that he would die,
and continued waiting for a couple of hours and then
stood up to try a descent. The wounded ram immedi-
ately rose and slowly, with difficulty, walked downward
to the bottom of the basin. Not to alarm him more than
necessary, I seated myself and watched him through the
glasses. He often paused and stopped as if to lie down
again, but kept on. He seemed to limber up as he went
along a little faster, often making a jump, and sometimes
almost running.

A mile away he crossed the basin and began to walk
up the steep slope opposite, then going without difficulty.
Higher and higher he went, still farther away, until he
lay down under a cliff. The only chance of getting him
was to leave him undisturbed so that he might die in the
same spot. My bullet must have struck him on the side,
too far back to make a quickly fatal wound. Then and
there I made up my mind to keep shooting at a wounded

58 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

animal in the future until assured that it was vitally hit,
rather than to take chances, as in this case. A single
ewe was lying down on the rocks above the ram. At 9.30
the large band was returning toward the bottom of the
basin to feed. They reached it in peace before I started
back to camp. This was the remainder of the band
that Osgood and Rungius had disturbed and driven
back into the rougher parts of the mountains.

Later I sat by the fire, smoking my pipe, enjoying the
solitude, with the same gorgeous sunset sky before me.
I again passed the night, sleeping between intervals of
fighting the mosquitoes, which were active all night in
the timber on that side of the divide.

Fuly 25.—The sun was shining brightly when I rose
and climbed the south range. After looking at the un-
touched carcass of the caribou, I proceeded east along
the crest in the hope of finding the rams near the point
where they had first been seen. To the south, on the
other side of a narrow basin, was a high ridge on the
crest of which stood a large bull caribou, making a huge
black bulk against the sky. He was motionless in the
centre of the snow-bank, with his head held downward—
the most common attitude of bull caribou when standing
at rest. Having determined not to shoot another cari-
bou while in the velvet, I watched him at times through
the glasses, as he stood for two hours without changing
his attitude. Later I proceeded, noticing the beds of
sheep—small circular hollows which they had pawed
out in the broken rock of the slope—and saw that noth-
ing had yet touched the bear’s carcass, which was in

SEARCHING FOR RAMS 59

sight below. About the middle of the afternoon Osgood
came along on the crest and I pointed out the caribou,
which had then wandered about fifty feet from the snow-
bank. As he started in that direction, it returned and
lay down on the snow. Osgood had seen seven ewes
and lambs on a high spur running south from the range,
and was approaching to see if any rams were near.

I walked on observing the ewes, which were now feed-
ing on the top of the spur, and while proceeding could
soon look down on the basin from which Osgood had
ascended. Just beyond the range that I was following
was a chain of peaks, the second of which was, to the
sight, the highest visible anywhere in the whole region.
I determined to climb it. It was rough and steep, and
the last hundred yards were difficult to surmount, but
finally I reached the top. From this peak I could look
down on both sides of the spur and into two pretty crystal
lakes lying in a narrow space between it and the next
range, which shot up into cliffs, culminating in the high
jagged crest of a mountain chain running north and
south.

Streams of water could be heard leaping down from
the surrounding snow to form the lakes. It was per-
fectly clear, and I sat down to enjoy the extended moun-
tain panorama. After taking several photographs of the
landscape, I left my riicksack and the kodak where I had
been sitting, and descended a short distance along the
rim to look over into a cafion beyond. When I had gone
a few hundred feet I heard the sound of falling rocks
not fifty feet in front, and suddenly seven ewes and lambs

60 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

jumped up on the crest from the cliff below. They stood
for a few moments in alert attitudes, looking at me with
curiosity. Oh, for that kodak, which for the first time
was not at hand! As I started back for it the sheep
moved around the peak and disappeared. ‘Then on the
high range beyond, some small moving objects were sil-
houetted against the sky-line, and my field-glasses proved
them to be ewes and lambs. Moving the glasses, to
keep the crest in the field, I could see on every peak and
in many places between them small bands of ewes and
lambs; some feeding, some lying down, and others trav-
elling along; but not a single ram.

Then I began the descent to the lakes. The slope
was exceedingly steep, particularly on the talus; so, sus-
pending my rifle on my back, I zigzagged down, finding
great difficulty the last few hundred feet, where the way
led among tumbled and confused boulders. There was
ice along the shores of the lakes, which were two or
three acres in extent, perfectly clear, and fairly deep. As
usual, old caribou tracks were everywhere, and the songs
of water ousels were heard as I followed the stream to
camp, reached finally at ten in the evening.

This day Rungius had been up the north branch of
Coal Creek, below our camp, and had climbed the other
side of the range where I had seen the ewes feeding on
the cliffs the day before. He reported having seen the
same number of ewes—probably the same band.

Fuly 26.—At 2.30 the next morning Osgood returned
with the skin of the caribou, having left the head to bring
later. He had found it feeding only a few feet from

SEARCHING FOR RAMS 61

the snow-bank and nearby had seen some caribou cows
and calves. Rungius continued sketching the ram that
I had killed. By a system of ropes, suspended from a
cross-pole, it had been held in a natural position and had
been stuffed with grass to give a normal size to the belly.
After several pencil drawings Rungius made a color
sketch to record the stained color of the pelage.

Soon after noon, I started for the mountain to look for
the ram which had been wounded two days before.
Reaching the edge of the basin, where I could plainly see
the country, no sign of him was visible about the slope
where he had been last seen; nor, after reaching the
point where he had lain down, could I find any trace of
him. I then turned back toward camp, descending to the
divide down the bed of a stream which flows through a
deep gorge. Just before entering the cafion I saw a
ewe and lamb standing not far above, looking at me.
The ewe was in an alert attitude, with one foreleg raised
and curved. At short intervals she would strike her
horns to the ground or jump and stamp with her feet and
shake her head, tormented by the mosquitoes. Many
times I saw sheep act in this way, a sure sign that mos-
quitoes worried them, particularly about the lips, eyes,
and ears. The cafion proved to be so precipitous that
it became a difficult and dangerous task to descend it.
It was necessary to cross and recross the dashing stream,
walk down slippery snow-banks, work down bluffs, and
often make a détour around the heads of tributary gorges.
It is not wise to attempt a descent through unknown
gorges, and I determined not to try it again. From one

62 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

point several ewes and lambs were seen near the peak of
the mountain on my left. They had evidently been feed-
ing below and were working upward to rest for the
night.

Fuly 27.—The next day was spent in camp. It was
the hottest yet experienced and decidedly uncomfortable.
With the exceptions noted, the weather had been clear;
the days, except high up the mountains, warm, often
hot; and the nights cold, the temperature usually falling
below freezing point. Numerous jays were now about,
and it was amusing to watch them carrying off every
piece of meat that they could snatch. I prepared the
head of the ram which Rungius had been sketching, and
skinned my caribou’s feet. Osgood had very kindly pre-
pared the caribou head during my absence.

At 6.30 in the evening Rungius and [ filled our riick-
sacks with provisions, and, taking the mosquito tent,
started for my camp at the lower end of the divide. As
we were ascending the pastures of the divide, Rungius
looked back and saw a fairly large ram, high up the
mountain, running down the slope, followed by a smaller
one. He immediately started back to gain the foot of
the slope, but the sheep passed out of sight, running as if
frightened. He began to climb directly toward the point
where they disappeared. Then I started down the creek,
to intercept them if they should cross to the other range,
but it was too late, for I saw them climbing the slope on
the opposite side, and watched them for some time until
they began to feed near the top and soon passed out of
sight over the crest.

‘WVa AHL ONIHOLAMS SATIONO YY Tava

SEARCHING FOR RAMS 63

At the same time four ewes and lambs were seen up
near Rungius, who also saw but did not stalk them.
Later we learned that shortly before this hour Osgood had
seen three rams farther along the same range, and wound-
ing the largest he had failed to get it. The two that
Rungius and I had seen were evidently the others which
were running in fright when we first saw them. Rungius
finally joined me and we proceeded over the divide.
Twilight was deepening, and the sky to the west was
glowing in colors above the distant peaks, when I saw,
silhouetted against the sky-line of the crest directly oppo-
site my old camp, several sheep, probably ewes. They
soon lay down and were still visible on the sky-line as the
shadows deepened and the sky became crimson. By
practice the eye becomes trained to recognize animals in
contrast to similar inanimate objects, even when blending
in color and at a distance, and often when not moving.
My vision was constantly improving in this respect, and
I was gradually gaining confidence in my ability to
quickly distinguish sheep, inconspicuous as they were in
that country. As we approached camp the usual swarm
of mosquitoes welcomed us. We soon put up the tent,
made a fire, cooked, ate, and went under the blankets.
At last, in that spot, I slept, defying the mosquitoes.

July 28.—It was raining when we rose, and after break-
fast we waited for clear weather. During my absence
the ground-squirrels had gnawed through the waterproof
canvas to investigate the few provisions that had been
left. It cleared and we started down river, then ascended
a steep slope well to the west along the range, for the

64 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

purpose of examining the lower ranges south of the
divide. I particularly wanted to climb the farther peaks
above the rolling country. Bear diggings were numerous
everywhere, in the basins and on the slopes. We climbed
along the broken rock on the west side of the high lime-
stone mountain (which I had ascended after leaving
Rungius and Gage several days before), and circled
around it to the crest on the other side where the chain
continues to the south, and there seated ourselves to
look over the country.

While scanning a partly snow-covered range of dark,
iron-stained rock, almost black in appearance, there
came into the field of my glasses a band of sixteen bull
caribou, their manes glistening white in contrast to the
black rock of the slope above the snow on which they were
standing. Their bodies appeared black in strong relief,
although nearly three miles away, and their wide, branch-
ing antlers were clearly visible, like small dead tree tops.
All stood motionless with heads hanging down, like the
single bull I had seen near there a few days before.
Here was an opportunity for Rungius to study them in
life, and he quickly started. As he passed out of sight
below, I watched the caribou. Now and then a few
would move off the snow to feed, but they quickly came
back, and soon two or three were lying down on it.

Then I went on along the crest of the range and
after climbing a peak noticed a dead animal on the snow
in the bottom of a ravine and soon found it to be a dead
caribou bull. It was the one I had shot at and thought I
had missed. It had been shot through the stomach and

SEARCHING FOR RAMS 65

had lain down on the snow and died. It was fully as large
as the one I had killed, but a little lighter in color, and
the horns, though as long in beam, had but few points.
All the satisfaction I had felt in permitting it to escape
without firing at it again now disappeared in a feeling
of chagrin. The carcass was badly decomposed, but
only ground-squirrels had been feeding on it.

I went on along the uneven crest to the south end
of the range, following sheep-trails, among the bleating
conies and whistling marmots. From the south moun-
tains I crossed back to camp through the rolling country.
A sheep was seen against the sky-line of the mountain
three miles to the west and another soon joined it, but
at that distance it was impossible to make out the sex,
though the absence of lambs might indicate rams. It
had showered and hailed during the day and at times
was cold on the mountain. During the tramp along the
crest I noticed two ravens feeding on the carcass of the
first ram I had killed, but they were driven away at inter-
vals by a golden eagle, who claimed a share of the feast.
Not finding Rungius, and thinking he had returned to
the main camp, I prepared supper, and after smoking
my pipe rolled into the blanket at midnight. As I went
to sleep the glow of the twilight in the west was still
beautiful, while the pastures and mountains behind were
covered with dark clouds.

‘fuly 29.—Some time later I was aroused by a noise
outside and seized my rifle, thinking it was a bear after
the provisions stored near by under a tree. It was Run-
gius returning with a caribou head and skin. When

66 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

nearing the caribou, he found that they had moved to a
snow-bank higher up the slope, and not distinguishing
the leader of the band he killed two of the smaller bulls.
After he had fired, the leader, followed by the whole
band, came trotting up to him in curiosity. Just beyond
the bulls he had seen a band of five cows and calves.

Soon after Rungius came in it began to rain very
hard and continued until after mid-day, when he started
back for the main camp. I intended to remain a few more
days to search for rams, and asked him to have one of
the men bring me more provisions. Since the mountains
and ridges became enveloped in a heavy mist, it was
necessary to remain about camp. Alaska jays were now
numerous, and two Northern shrikes were there, stealing
any morsel that they could find. Although the shrikes
would snatch everything and fly off, they would only
eat meat. They were extremely quarrelsome and always
drove off the jays until they could help themselves.
Ground-squirrels had become bold and would come to
the frying-pan as I held it, to eat the bacon grease. All
these provided interesting company until evening, when
Spahr appeared with two horses, bringing a supply of pro-
visions. I sent him back with Rungius’s caribou skin.
It rained all night.

July 30.—After breakfast, on the range to the south,
I saw a ewe and two lambs feeding low. The lambs
were sporting about. Through the glasses the dark
stripes on the ewe’s legs and the gray on the back were
distinctly visible. As the mountains were covered with
mist, I waited and watched the sheep feeding until they

SEARCHING FOR RAMS 67

moved upward and disappeared over the crest. Looking
back on the spur where I| had killed my last ram, I saw
a smaller ram walking across the slope. It reached the
edge of the cliff, leaped down toa jutting rock below, and
lay down. It was still resting at noon when | began to
climb the ridge. From the top seven ewes and lambs
could be seen back across the valley and laying down
on the crest of the mountain I had climbed a few days
before. Two hours later they were still resting in the
same place. The sun was brightly shining as I con-
tinued the long tramp along the ridges, fascinated by
the interest of looking down in the basins between the
numerous spurs, always hoping to see a bear feeding, or
perhaps rams resting. I kept carefully examining the
country ahead until the last mountain was climbed, but
not an animal was anywhere in sight. Here for the
first time I saw the white-tailed ptarmigan, very tame,
high up among the rocks.

I could look down on the edge of the vast meadows,
extending many miles north and south, bristling here
and there with black spruces, and see well-defined moose
and caribou trails, crossing through the long grass. The
meadows were about three miles wide and through the
middle flowed a large stream coming from a mountain
to the south-west, and which was lost to view where it
flowed through the mountain ranges fifteen miles to the
north-east. On the other side of the meadows, parallel
with them, were high mountain chains, similar in ap-
pearance to those of the divide. The river is a branch of
the Tatonduk or Sheep Creek. Sheep trails extended in

68 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

all directions from the ridge-tops near me, except toward
the meadows. It is probably a feeding-place in spring
or late fall.

It had showered at intervals during the day and when
I reached camp it was raining hard. While I was cook-
ing supper, my eyes were attracted by an unfamiliar
object appearing like a small stump in the centre of a
little knoll about a hundred and fifty yards off across the
brook. Watching it carefully I saw a movement and
knew that it was a wolf, in an attitude almost perfect for
self-protection. Its hind quarters were turned directly
toward me. Its head, pointing in my direction, was held
close to the body in a straight line in such manner that
the only parts of the body visible, without close scru-
tiny, were the narrow hind quarters, the color of which
blended perfectly with the grass. My rifle was against
a tree. Quickly creeping to it I aimed through the dusk
and fired. The wolf jumped and ran zigzagging down
stream, but did not present another shot and was soon
lost to sight in the timber. As it ran one hind leg was
swinging, evidently broken by the bullet. It was too dark
to follow then, but I determined to try for it in the morning.

Ffuly 31.—The sunset that night and the tinting of the
clouds were particularly beautiful, as the faint light
glowed through the spruces while heavy clouds hung on
the mountain sides, and to the east all was dark. Few
mosquitoes were about, the rains of the last few days
together with the colder nights having probably de-
stroyed them. The rain kept pouring down, beating
through the thin mosquito tent all night, and continued

SEARCHING FOR RAMS 69

until afternoon the next day. When it slackened it was
necessary to search for a spot to safely cross the brook,
now swollen and dashing by in heavy volume. Careful
search was made for the wolf, but all signs had been
obliterated by the rain, which, later in the afternoon,
increased so much that hunting for that day was given up.

While I was sheltered by the tent, a ground-squirrel
greatly amused me. It began to approach, stopping, after
each slight advance, to rise on its hind legs and look a1
me, until it came to the tent and cautiously pried about,
eating grease in the frying-pan and picking up stray bits
of meat. The shrikes also were about, flying from tree
to tree, fighting over pieces of meat. Then the jays came
for their share, and even a red squirrel was attracted to
the feast.

At five o’clock in the afternoon it stopped raining and
nine ewes and lambs were seen feeding on the opposite
mountain, evidently a part of those which had been
observed across the basin, now coming back to their
original pastures. Then a ewe and two lambs were seen
feeding on the conical mountain near where Rungius had
killed the cow caribou. The lambs, on reaching a long
bank of snow, began a game of butting, backing apart
and rushing together again and again. Soon all dis-
appeared over the top. It was then eight o’clock and
growing colder.

August 1.—The first day of August was bright, clear,
and windy, with scattered clouds hovering here and there
over the mountains. I decided to again climb the ridge
behind our main camp, and walk east along the crest,

7o THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

thus repeating my trip of a few days before, in the hope
that some of the rams had returned. During the ascent
the field-glasses revealed a good-sized ram, with several
ewes and lambs just under the peak of the conical moun-
tains. After feeding awhile they lay down close to the
peak, and I started to walk along the crest, with the
intention of stalking them when they began to feed later
in the afternoon.

When I reached the top of the spur and looked beyond,
Rungius was seen coming on a stalk directly over the
peak, well within range, but not in sight of the ram.
The ewes below, apparently having seen him, had risen
and were quite uneasy; they suddenly jumped and ran
around the peak before he could get a shot. Osgood
then appeared, standing farther along the crest, and after
Rungius motioned to him, both soon disappeared over
the top. I kept on to the top of the mountain, noticed
that the caribou carcass had not been disturbed and also
that the carcass of the first ram I had killed was still
untouched except by ravens and eagles.

Later I saw Rungius: approaching along the crest
and, hailing him, we soon met. He told me that soon
after I had seen him, he and Osgood had observed five
rams lying under a cliff, but the rams had seen them
before they could shoot, and were running when they
fired at a distance of four hundred yards, both emptying
their magazines without result. Osgood had gone after
them, and Rungius and I started back to the main camp,
but were overtaken by a very heavy rainstorm and thor-
oughly soaked.

SEARCHING FOR RAMS 71

On the way we looked over some cliffs and could
see lying on the talus below seven ewes and lambs,
which we left undisturbed. Rungius soon afterward sep-
arated from me to kill a ewe from a small band which
he had seen in the morning nearer camp, in order to
replenish our stock of meat. I kept on, descending to
the south basin, where a marmot was sitting up like a
woodchuck near its burrow. There were many marmot
burrows in the bottom of this basin among coarse, broken
rocks.

I reached camp at g Pp. M. and Rungius came in soon
after, having failed to find the ewes. Later, Osgood
returned, bringing the head and scalp of a three-year-
old ram. He had persistently followed them all day and
finally made a successful stalk. He had shot as one
was running, and thought that he had only wounded it
as it disappeared in a hollow; and when one appeared
on the other side he killed it. The next day, when he
returned with Gage for the meat, he found the other
ram dead in the hollow, a three-year-old, the one that
he had fired at first. His persistent stalk on difficult
ground deserves much credit. Apparently those rams
were from the band which I had first seen.

For several days I had tramped many miles and had
climbed high mountains in search of rams, and was some-
what doubtful of finding other big rams before we must
depart; hence, the next day, I decided to hunt the ranges
east of Coal Creek, below the forks.

CHAPTER. Iv
THE FINAL STALK—1904

August 2.—We rose late, to find the sun brightly
shining. Rungius soon started to look at his caribou
carcass; Osgood and Gage went to get the meat of Os-
good’s ram. I stood near the fire for a few moments
after they had left, and was gazing at the high mountains
three miles or more distant, east of the north branch of
Coal Creek, where I intended to hunt, when I saw up
near the top what appeared to be sheep—whitish spots
against the dark background of the slope. My glasses
showed six sheep, not clearly visible, but looking like
rams.

It was a little after mid-day, and in five minutes I had
started down the creek flushing ptarmigan and disturbing
ground-squirrels on the way, while red spruce squirrels
scampered and frisked about. After passing rapidly
along the well-beaten moose trail until near the forks, I
again looked through the glasses. Yes, they were rams,
nine in all, apparently, with fair horns, and the horns of
one, which was feeding to the right a short distance from
the others, seemed to be particularly large.

They were on the west face of a high, rugged mountain,

about a mile broad, with very steep, green slopes extending
72

‘zc Isnony
« NIVINNOW AX99NA HOIH V JO AOVA ISAM AHL NO AMAM AFH T,,

THE FINAL STALK 73

from the creek directly up to near the crest, ending against
shagged precipices, pinnacled above by high peaks of
limestone and iron-stained rock which, under the sunlight,
displayed a wonderful harmony of colors—red, black,
and white. The slope was furrowed by three ravines,
and through the bottom of each fell brooks, dashing and
leaping over the rocks of the sharp decline. From a dis-
tance these ravines looked like deep concave depres-
sions, giving a wavy appearance to the broad mountain
face

Three of the rams, including the one with big horns,
were feeding in the middle ravine; the other six were
standing on the edge of the next one, which was so pre-
cipitous that it was more like a deep canon on the moun-
tain side. In studying an approach, it appeared to be
quite possible to climb out of sight in the ravine to the
right, but should the rams in the meanwhile feed in that
direction, they would surely see me. Though it required
more time, I decided to pass clear around the mountain,
and by winding up the south-east side come in sight above
them, thus avoiding any possibility of their seeing me
unless they should go back over the crest, which for the
next few hours was unlikely.

I waded the creek, circled, and began the ascent
through the timber, where were rabbits and spruce grouse,
not observed nearer to the divide. Coming out on the
south side and circling upward, I not only found it very
steep, but it was extremely difficult to force my way
through the dense growth of dwarf birch which covered
the lower slopes of the south exposure. But gradually

74 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

winding upward I reached a point high above the sheep,
where the ground was so rough and steep that it was
difficult to work among the crags and rocks to the part
of the crest that I had marked from below as directly
above the sheep. The slope now became so dangerous
that it was necessary to sling my rifle on my back, so
that I could use both hands. At length, I stood at the
marked point, just below the crest, and paused awhile
to rest and recover my breath after the exertion of the
climb.

After a few moments I slowly crawled forward and
looked over. A hundred and fifty yards below me was
the large ram, lying down near the edge of the second
ravine, and a little to the left below it the heads of two
smaller ones were just visible. The wind was fresh and
fairly strong, blowing directly from me to them. As
no other sheep were in sight I concluded that the rest
were below in the ravine. The ram was peacefully look-
ing down on that wondrous landscape, without suspicion
of danger from above. Sitting with elbows squarely on
my knees, I fired at the centre of its body. I heard the
bullet strike him before he rose with a jump and stepped
forward, quickly passing out of sight over the edge of the
ravine. The two smaller rams sprang to a standing posi-
tion, and looked sideways and down, apparently not much
alarmed. None of the others appeared while I remained
stretched at full length, motionless, for ten minutes. The
big ram then suddenly staggered in sight again on the
edge of the ravine and I aimed, fired, and the bullet
struck him in such a way that I was confident he had

THE FINAL STALK 75

been killed as he dropped back into the cafion. The
two small rams slowly followed him.

Then as quickly and as noiselessly as possible, I
walked two hundred yards to the right, just below and
parallel with the crest, to a point where I could look
down in the cafon. Seventy-five yards away on the
opposite side and a little below were eight rams closely
bunched, all nervously looking down. ‘They had heard
the noise of the old ram falling and were looking in that
direction. They had not determined the direction of the
danger. I quickly selected the one with the largest
horns and off-hand shot him through the heart. The
rest jumped and ran a hundred yards downward, and
rushed up the broken surface to the edge of the cafion
directly below me, where all stopped and looked about
in excitement, not yet having seen me.

Selecting the one with the next largest horns I sent
a bullet through his heart, and he dropped in histracks.
The others scattered, ran about a little, and stood again,
still not having seen me. Selecting the grayest I shot
him through the middle of the body. He ran down the
cafion slope near the second dead ram, and stood a
moment until another shot killed him. The rest, three
of which had good horns, bunched, ran a few yards, and
again stood and looked up, for the first time seeing me.
In alert attitudes they gazed at me for several seconds
until I moved, then all dashed across the slope and dis-
appeared through the ravine, again coming in sight for
a moment before they rushed around to the other side
of the mountain. I went quickly down to the third

76 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

ram on the edge of the canon and sat down to smoke my
pipe.

After the excitement of the hunt the vast panorama
of mountains about me never seemed so beautiful. Di-
rectly below were the bare, steep slopes extending to the
timber which bordered the creek. Beyond, lay the valley
of the west fork, fringed green by the spruces, while
the waters of the creek were shining and glistening in
the rays of the setting sun, which tinted with gold the
heavy clouds on the horizon. The lofty mountain be-
hind camp stood out boldly, its high-turreted rocks and
rough peaks forming fantastic shapes against the sky-
line, and at its base our camp fire burned brightly.
Behind, stretching far away, were the bewildering masses
of the main Ogilvie ranges, the varied rocks blending
their colors and fading like a wavy ocean merging into
the soft, dull blue of the sky beyond. A large ram lay
at my feet; below in the cafion was another; above on
opposite sides of the leaping stream two more—my final
success. Still with me is the vivid memory of those wild
sheep rushing across the rocky slope in that wonderful
landscape.

After photographing the dead ram near me I began
to take off the skin of his head and neck. The clouds
gathered fast and it soon began to rain. After cutting
off the head I carried it with the skin down into the
cafion and then went up to the third ram killed, which
was very gray, and was selected to represent the ‘‘ Fannin”
type for the collection of the Biological Survey. After
photographing him I gralloched him and left him for

“HE DROPPED IN HIS TRACKS,” AUGUST 2. “SELECTING THE GRAYEST, I SHOT HIM THROUGH
THE MIDDLE OF THE BODY,’’ AUGUST 2.

“T QUICKLY SELECTED THE ONE WITH THE ‘““A FINE OLD VETERAN OF THE CRAGS AND
LARGEST HORNS AND OFFHAND SHOT HIM PEAKS,”? AUGUST 2.
THROUGH THE HEART,’’ AUGUST 2.

THE FINAL STALK --

Osgood to preserve. Then crossing the stream to the
second ram killed, which had fallen on an exceedingly
steep slope, I photographed him also and removed his
skin and head. Both were carried to the ram below, the
first one killed. Up to this time I had not been near
him and the climax of the day came as I saw lying before
me an enormous ram of grayish color, grizzled with age,
his large, perfect horns sweeping upward in spirals ex-
tending well above the eyes, a finer trophy than I had
ever anticipated, an old veteran of the crags and peaks.
It was raining heavily, the mountain crests were covered
with clouds, and a dense fog was settling all around me.
I tried several exposures for photographs, and measured
the ram whose length was fifty-nine inches. In the rain
and cold I finished skinning him at 10.30 p. mM. The
head was cut off and left in the skin.

Thoroughly soaked, I rested for awhile and ate a
couple of crackers. Far below in the distance the camp-
fires could be seen glimmering through the fog, which
soon became so dense that the darkness increased. ‘The
nights were now perceptibly darker, so much so that in
this heavy fog I could not clearly see the ground. Tying
the larger head and skin in my ricksack, also putting
another on my back, and taking the third in my hand, I
began the descent. The first hundred feet proved the
impossibility of going on without lightening the load; so
the smaller head and skin were left on a rock at the bot-
tom of the cafion. Then another start was made with
the remaining pack rearranged and with the rifle slung
on my back. The descent was so steep and the canon

78 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

so dark that it was necessary to climb to the slope above
and zigzag slowly downward. I was unable to see the
surface of the ground and advanced slowly, feeling each
step, falling several times, continually stopping to rest
and rearrange the pack and the head. Gradually I
worked down to timber-line where, though it was darker,
the footing was smoother, and finally I reached the
creek. It had required two and a half hours to make a
descent of less than two miles.

Fording and refording, now resting, now fixing the
pack, I kept on in the rain. As daylight returned it
became easier to travel and I reached camp at 4 A. M.
A fire was soon started; some food and tea taken; then
repose, and my pipe; after which strength returned and I
slept.

We had succeeded in the main object of the trip,
which was to obtain good specimens of the sheep of that
region. None were so dark as the so-called Fannin
sheep, but some were good representatives of the white
Dall sheep, except the color of the tails, which in all of
them was black. Probably half the sheep in this locality
faintly displayed the pattern of the Fannin sheep, but all
were nearer the color of the other.* It is worth recording
that all the sheep seen in the first band of rams had the
widely spread type of horns; all in this second band had
the narrow type.

August 3-6.—The next three days were spent in
camp, except that short trips were made by Rungius and
Osgood to bring back the meat and remaining skins, to

* See appendix for descriptions of the types; also see plate in Chapter XX.

Photograph by W. H. Osgood. 3y permission of the U. S. Biological Survey
3REAKING THE HUNTING CAMP.

Photograph by Carl Rungius.

TRAVELLING DOWN COAL CREEK.

THE FINAL STALK 79

gather the traps and make local sketches. Rungius
sketched the heads of my sheep in the flesh, after which
I prepared them and spent the time arranging and drying
them. The fourth day I went down the creek and up
the branch that enters below the forks, on the chance
of finding a bear, but saw nothing, and returned after
an interesting tramp among the mountains.

August 7 was spent in breaking camp, shoeing the
horses, and making up the packs. Osgood had collected
one hundred and ten specimens of small mammals and
birds, besides the larger game. We slept for the last
time in that delightful camp, and the next morning
packed and started. The return was rapid as compared
with the trip up river. It was all down grade; we knew
the route; the trail had been cut; the loads were lighter,
only that of the caribou horns being bulky and awkward.
There were numerous salmon in the river; bear tracks,
those of the black bear only, were more plentiful, and a
few fresh moose tracks were seen. On the afternoon of
August 11 we reached the Yukon River.

Long before leaving Coal Creek a steamer whistle re-
minded us of civilization. Our exact travelling time from

camp at the head of Coal Creek to the Yukon River, de-
ducting all stops of over five minutes, was twenty-one

hours and four minutes. We forded Coal Creek fifty-
eight times. While in the hunting country it had rained
eight days, but only twice did fog and rain prevent rea-
sonable hunting. ‘Twenty-seven days were clear, and at
no time was there a very strong wind.

A steamer was being loaded with coal at the chutes,

80 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

but owing to their faulty construction three days were
required to load a barge; therefore we were obliged to
endure the delay. We boarded the steamer August 14,
and the following afternoon arrived in Dawson, where
everything was packed and sent to Washington.

THE MacMILLAN RIVER

“STOOD MOTIONLESS ON THE CREST, GAZING AT THE COUNTRY BELOW.”
Drawing by Carl Rungius., | Page.170)

CHAPTER 'V

THE TRIP TO THE FORKS OF THE MacMILLAN
RIVER—1904

BeEForE leaving Dawson for Coal Creek we had
arranged to join a party which had matured a plan to
rent a small steamer to take us up to the head-waters
of navigation on the MacMillan River. It was composed
of D. A. Cameron, manager of the Dawson branch of the
Canadian Bank of Commerce; Judge Dugas, of Dawson;
J. A. Patterson, a fine fellow, who, having crossed the
Rockies by the Edmonton trail in 1898, had subsequently
gained much experience in that northern wilderness, and
F. C. Selous, of England. Selous had arrived a short
time previously and had taken a short trip in the Ogilvie
ranges to the north-east of Dawson to employ his time
in hunting caribou during the ten days that he might
otherwise have been idling about Dawson. He had en-
gaged an experienced half-breed hunter, Louis Cardinal,
as assistant for the MacMillan trip, and the others had
two experienced French-Canadians, also Bob Hender-
son, one of the original explorers for gold in the vicinity
of the Klondike River. I had re-engaged Gage and had
arranged to get another man at Selkirk. “Two hunters,
Dougherty and Horn, had taken a passage for the Mac-
Millan where they could kill a supply of moose meat and

bring it back to Dawson for sale.
83

84 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

August 21.—The necessary canoes were loaded on
board, and shortly after noon, August 22, the little
steamer, Emma Knot, started and was propelled slowly
against the swift current, stopping at intervals to take
on wood, until it was tied up to the bank atiop.m. It
could not be navigated during the hours of darkness—
then between 9.30 Pp. M. and 3 A. M. Before going into
our canvas bunks, especially constructed one above the
other, under a shelter of canvas on the stern deck, we
witnessed a fine display of the Aurora. The weather was
clear and continued like Indian summer as long as we
remained on the steamer.

August 22.—For the next two days the boat steamed
against the current, tying up during the dark hours of
the night, until shortly after noon on August 24th we
reached Selkirk. There the other man whom I had en-
gaged—Coghlan, by name—met us. A few provisions
were purchased, our travelling clothes were left at the
Police Post in Selkirk, and late in the afternoon we were
all glad to leave the Yukon and enter the Pelly—a river
rarely navigated by steamboats—where the boat could
make better headway because of the slower current. The
current of the Yukon at that season runs four and five
miles an hour; that of the Pelly about three or less. We
stopped seven miles up the river at the Pelly Road House
—a large inn owned by the White Pass and Yukon Rail-
way, at a division terminal on the winter stage route—
and there took on two canoes kindly loaned us by A. B.
Newell, vice-president of the railway.

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THE FORKS OF THE MacMILLAN RIVER 85

bed of the river, had a hole punched in its bottom, small,
but bad enough to cause us to tie up for repairs. We
remained there during the dark hours of the night. We
had been assured that not more than five days would
be required to reach the head of navigation on the Mac-
Millan River, but were beginning to realize that it would
take longer.

August 25.—Starting the next morning and forcing
our way against the current, we glided between high
terraces which often shut out a sight of the rolling hills
and low ridges farther back from the river. From its
mouth to the MacMillan River, the Pelly, tortuous in its
course, is from four hundred to eight hundred feet wide,
and flows through a low country. It is closely bordered
by low hills and ridges, and often flows between terraces,
some of which rise far back from the river to heights of
one hundred and fifty to two hundred feet. These, often
lightly wooded, mostly with poplars, and clothed with
grass, particularly on the southern exposures, present a
very attractive appearance. Bluffs or high escarped
banks are usually on one side or the other, and opposite
them are wide gravel bars, fairly smooth, so that it is
quite easy to tow a canoe up the river. The distance to
the mouth of the MacMillan along the river is seventy-
four miles and the current runs at the rate of two and
one-half to three miles an hour. Here and there wide
flats intervene between the river and the terraced hills.

Now and then we frightened a flock of mergansers,
and twice saw a graceful duck-hawk sailing by. The
landscape was warmed by the poplars, then showing a

86 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

tinge of fall color. Numerous old game trails came to
the river. These trails often extend along the banks and
are used by Indians both in summer and fall. Several
men were aboard, to be put off at a wood camp to cut
fuel and assemble it into a raft which the boat on return-
ing could tow to Dawson. Late in the afternoon we
reached the camp and went ashore to wander about,
eating luscious red cranberries and feeling the exhilara-
tion of exercise in the warm cheery sunshine. At inter-
vals along the river were groves of dry spruces close to
the bank. Such groves provide the fuel for steamboats
on all the northern rivers which are not navigated often
enough by steam to encourage wood-choppers to locate
wood camps along the banks to sell wood to passing
steamers. Our men at once began to fell trees, and all
of us assisted in loading them on the boat. From then
on we were delayed from two to four hours each day
thus to cut and load wood.

After starting again some of us noticed an indifference
on the part of the captain about continuing, and I must
say a word about this Swedish captain, who was respon-
sible for most of our troubles during the remainder of the
time we were on the steamboat. He proved to be noth-
ing but a deep-water sailor, who had somehow drifted
into Dawson and become a conspicuous member of the
Salvation Army, which for some time had been active
there. He was bigoted, lacked every kind of courage
and nerve, and, still worse, knew nothing about river
navigation, as we soon afterward learned. He was al-
ready beginning to doubt the possibility of navigating

THE FORKS OF THE MacMILLAN RIVER 87

much farther up the Pelly, giving as a reason “low
water.”

August 26.—Fog prevented the boat from starting
until 6.30 the next morning and we reached the lower
end of Granite Cafion at nine. This cafion, four miles
long, is bordered with steep, rocky scarped banks, and
cliffs from two hundred to two hundred and fifty feet in
height. The river through the cafion is fairly wide and
deep, though at low water there are several shallow
rapids and numerous isolated rocks which it needs skil-
ful steering to avoid. The captain uncertainly attempted
to manage the boat, and just before entering the cafion
put her into the sand-bank of a little island in midstream.
Then backing her, while nobody knew what he was try-
ing to do, he took her to the bank and tied her up, say-
ing that if he attempted to go through he would lose her.
It was evident that a stiff rapid just ahead had frightened
him.

Fortunately, our man Coghlan was an experienced
river navigator, and, after going along the bank and look-
ing at the water, he told us that it would not be difficult
or dangerous to “‘rope” up through a part of the rapid
to a point where the boat could steam against it. After
two hours of discussion and persuasion, the captain was
induced to make the attempt. All available ropes were
then spliced to a length of over three hundred feet; we
all gave a hand, pulled the line along the shore, and
fastened it to a tree on the bank. After being pushed
from shore, the boat was given a course, and, assisted
by the steam-propelled revolutions of the winch, started

88 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

steaming against the dancing current. The slack of the
rope was not even taken up, its own weight adding
enough pull to make up for the slight lack of power in the
paddle-wheel, which did not have quite enough to propel
the boat against the rapids. After two hundred feet
the doubtful part was passed, the rope loosened, and we
went through the rest of the cafion without difficulty.

Soon we saw in the distance the MacMillan range
of mountains—the first imposing mountains seen since
we had entered the Pelly—and at about five o’clock we
steamed into the MacMillan River. The landscape
changed and we realized with satisfaction that more than
half of our journey had been completed.

The MacMillan River was discovered in 1843 by
Robert Campbell—a resolute pioneer of the Hudson
Bay Company, to whom we owe the first exploration
of that section of the northern wilderness. He named it
in honor of Chief Factor MacMillan of the Hudson Bay
Company. When Dr. George M. Dawson made his
famous trip down the Pelly, in 1887, little was known
about the river, only a few prospectors having ascended
it for a short distance, without finding good prospects.
The Klondike rush of 1897 and 1898 sent a large overflow
of prospectors up the Pelly and MacMillan, and soon
trappers established their trapping lines over the entire
country of both rivers almost to their sources.

But it was not until the summer of 1go2 that it was
explored and mapped, fortunately by those able and
energetic men of the Canadian Geological Survey—R. G.
McConnell and Joseph Keele. Its total length is about

THE FORKS OF THE MacMILLAN RIVER 89

two hundred and eighty-five miles. A hundred and fifty
miles up it forks into two well-defined branches. Its
width is from three hundred to five hundred feet; its
current sluggish, not exceeding three miles an hour in
the lower reaches and usually less than that of the Pelly,
while above it is more accelerated—from three to five
miles in places. Its volume is not quite equal to that
of the Pelly River, and its water is much more turgid.
Up to the Forks it traverses a timbered valley from one
to six miles wide, interspersed with swamps and meadows,
and containing numerous small lakes. High clay banks
are common along its course, and wide gravel bars occur
in a manner similar to those along the Pelly.

The character of the country is mountainous. The
MacMillan ranges come close to the river on the north
side, the peaks varying from three thousand to five thou-
sand eight hundred feet above sea level. Continuing on
the same side is the Kalzas range with Kalzas Peak six
thousand one hundred feet high, close to the river.
Farther up the river is Plateau Mountain, which continues
in high ranges beyond the Forks to the western edge of
the main Rockies, designated by McConnell as the Selwyn
range. Opposite the MacMillan range, on the south
side, are plateau-shaped masses nearly three thousand feet
high, broken by wide valleys as far as Dromedary Moun-
tain, where big, massive mountains continue irregularly
up the South Fork to the Selwyn range. The river winds
back and forth from one side of the valley to the other in
a succession of curves.

Surrounded by impressive mountain scenery, pro-

go THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

gressing with accelerated speed against a slower current,
we steamed up the river for two hours, until the boat
was tied to the bank for the purpose of cutting and load-
ing wood. The night came on, clear and cold, while the
stars glittered through the trees. It was dark at nine
o’clock. A large camp-fire was made, which spread
warmth and geniality to all of us sitting about it. That
night the thermometer went down to twenty degrees
Fahrenheit.

August 27.—An hour after starting, the captain, fail-
ing to “‘read the water,” ran the bow into the mud well
outside the channel. We pottered about in disgust for
two hours before getting her off, as the usual tackle
for such purposes had not been brought. The day was
clear and calm. As we passed along the MacMillan
range, the peaks and ridges of Dromedary Mountain were
visible in the distance, and on the north the Kalzas range
appeared, its highest summits close to the river. The
scenery all day was like the Canadian wilderness with the
added grandeur of imposing mountain ranges on both
sides. In rounding the numerous curves, we reduced to
half speed, so that the average distance was not gained
on the day’s trip. A flock of geese was seen, and often,
on the bars, tracks of moose and bears.

It had become clear to all that the captain was not
able to handle the boat. He kept failing to see the
channel, even when it was perfectly clear to inexperi-
enced eyes like my own, and, after running on another
bar, he exclaimed that it was suicidal to attempt to navi-
gate the river; and at Kalzas Creek, only thirty miles

Photograph by W. H. Osgood By permission of the U. S. Biological Survey.
MacMILLAN MOUNTAINS FROM THE MACMILLAN RIVER.

Photograph by W. H. Osgood. By permission of the U. S. Biological Survey.

““THE PEAKS AND RIDGES OF DROMEDARY MOUNTAIN WERE VISIBLE IN THE DISTANCE.”

THE FORKS OF THE MacMILLAN RIVER g1

up from the Pelly, announced that we must load our
canoes and proceed as best we could. Before reaching
there the boat had been tied to the bank to repair an
auxiliary rudder, bent because of his bungling, and we
were told to unload. Our destination was a hundred and
eighty miles beyond, and to proceed that distance in
canoes meant nothing less than the failure of the trip.
Consternation rapidly developed into indignation. “Two
hours were lost in discussion, and finally the boat pro-
ceeded. Navigation was better until we tied up near the
foot of Kalzas Mountain.

August 28.—After an early start we proceeded all day
without much trouble, notwithstanding the captain’s con-
stant assertions as to the impossibility of advancing. Per-
haps we covered a distance of fifty miles. While winding
about between the high mountain ranges on both sides,
we noticed much “beaver cutting,’ and also numerous
beaver houses, always situated at the edge of the banks
of the river, in an eddy outside the current. Only three
beavers, however, were seen during the day.

From that part of the river up as far as I went on the
North Fork, “beaver cutting”’ was plentiful wherever large
balsam poplars grew on the banks. The beavers had
felled many of these trees by gnawing around the butt until
it assumed the shape of an hour-glass. It is a common
notion that the beaver is so intelligent that it deliberately
cuts the tree in such a way as to cause it to fall away
from the bank. Many of the trees, however, had fallen
in the direction of the river, and some over the bank. We
cannot, therefore, graft on the marvellous instinct of the

g2 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

beaver an intelligence which enables it to reason out a
method of felling trees which shall determine the direc-
tion of their fall. ‘The size of the trees thus felled varied
from one to fifteen inches in diameter. The purpose of
felling them is to gnaw off the branches and bring them
to the houses for a supply of winter food. All winter
they subsist on the bark. Houses of a circular shape,
usually constructed against the bank near the fallen trees,
consist of an irregular mass of sticks of different sizes,
with sometimes a few small logs, and the whole chinked
with earth. The green branches are packed about the
houses and, undoubtedly, the beaver finds a way of
reaching them in the winter.

In suitable tributaries and small channels, where the
river has cut a course around the land, the beavers make
dams, which back up the water to form lakes, and there
construct larger houses. When we were on the Mac-
Millan the beavers existed there in a practically undis-
turbed state, like that of beavers in early times in other
parts of North America. Martens and lynxes were so
abundant, and the fur of the former was so much more
valuable that the trappers had not yet attempted the
more difficult task of trapping the beavers. Fortunately
but few Indians hunt on the MacMillan River. The
lower part of the river is included in the hunting territory
of the tribe at Lake Tatlaman. They are reduced to a
few families. Beyond, as far as the Forks, the territory
belongs to the Indians living at the mouth of the Little
Salmon River, but they never come to the MacMillan
except in winter, and then they seldom trap beavers.

_ 2k

By permission of the U. S. Biological Survey.

Photograph by W. H. Osgood.
” ON BANK OF MACMILLAN RIVER.

“BEAVER CUTTING’

. S. Biological Survey

By permission of the U

Photograph by W. H. Osgood.
HOUSE IN EDDY OF MACMILLAN RIVER.

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THE FORKS OF THE MacMILLAN RIVER 93

Indians prefer the easier work of shooting them when the
water is open. They are very fond of their flesh and
destroy them indifferently in summer and fall. Two
years later beaver trapping had begun, and when Selous
went up there he found the beavers diminished. In
1908 I saw MacMillan River trappers in Dawson who
told me that all had been trapped, which means that not
enough were left to make it pay to trap them.

Everywhere in the upper reaches of the river we con-
stantly saw beavers, both swimming in the water and on
the banks. As a warning that certain actions of animals
must not be interpreted too quickly, Selous has men-
tioned the resounding slap of the tail which the beaver
makes when it dives. ‘This has often been called a warn-
ing signal. He mentions two cases of beavers sitting on
the bank, which were not alarmed by the slap of the tails
of others, even when sounded close by. On the North
Fork I myself twice saw beavers dive when I was con-
cealed in the alders near the bank, so that they were
wholly unsuspicious. In both cases their tails slapped
the water. Some other interpretation of the habit must
be attempted—perhaps it is caused by a muscular con-
traction to assist in sudden diving.

Besides the beavers no animals except red squirrels—
always abundant in the woods—had been seen since
leaving Dawson. The variety of birds observed on the
the whole trip was small. Only the delightful weather,
the wild aspect of the country, the rugged mountain
scenery, and the approach to the hunting country, offset
the tediousness of being cooped up on a small steamer

94 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

day after day, while our patience was tested by doubts
as to the ability and disposition of the captain to take the
boat up to within a reasonable distance of the Forks.

August 29.—We were awakened by the boat striking
hard on a bar, and I heard the captain exclaim that he
would not go on. After two hours, we worked it off and
proceeded all day until we tied up opposite Plateau
Mountain. While gazing at the crest through my field-
glasses I saw seven or eight caribou feeding near the
top and gradually moving over to the other side.

August 30.—In the morning, just before starting, I
saw a single caribou walking along the crest of Plateau
Mountain, and we watched it for some time until it was
lost to view. This sight of game had encouraged us,
as all day we steamed on, making slow progress against
more frequent riffles and around sharper curves, until
seven o’clock, when the captain ran the boat hard on a bar
and it was decided to remain there until morning. Drift-
wood was abundant and a huge fire was made, so that
by its light we could see well enough to cut wood and
carry it on the boat.

August 31.—After pulling the boat off the bar she
again went hard aground, a hundred yards farther on,
owing to the usual stupidity of the captain, whose com-
plaints were becoming so intolerable that we were almost
ready to take to our canoes. After working three hours
to make it free, we steamed on again, stopping to pick
up a beaver which the half-breed, Louis, had killed the
night before. Its tail—considered by many, especially
Indians, as a great delicacy—was cooked and served, but

THE FORKS OF THE MacMILLAN RIVER 95

it proved too rich and oily for our palates. At noon we
came to a bend where a log in a drift jam projected out
part way in the channel, and although we sent out men
who quickly cut it, the captain positively refused to go
on; nor were we loath to leave the boat. We unloaded
canoes and supplies in the rain, made a rough camp,
when Selous, Rungius, and Osgood started off, each
tramping in different directions, and returned later with-
out having seen any game or even signs of any.

Thus ended a steamboat trip up one of the sub-arctic
rivers of the north-west—a typical trip on the small boats
of that country, irresponsibly manned, as they usually are
when attempting to navigate new rivers. What a relief
later, after a repast of biscuit, tea, and bacon, to sit before
a large camp-fire and feel the freedom and liberty of the
wilderness! The party was too large to successfully hunt
from one camp, so Selous and [ planned to go up the
North Fork, taking Louis and Coghlan; Rungius and
Osgood decided to go with Gage up Russell Creek to the
Russell Mountains, while the others were attracted by the
country up the South Fork.

September 1.—The next morning all canoes were
loaded and we started. Poling, towing, paddling back
and forth across the river, we slowly worked up against
the current, and at noon reached Russell Creek, where
Rungius and Osgood remained to go twelve miles farther
up it to the mountain ranges.

Two years before, gold had been discovered on Russell
Creek and a concession was obtained and sold to an
English company. A young Englishman named Arm-

96 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

strong had been up there all summer with a force of
men for the purpose of prospecting it. We met the
whole party at the mouth of the creek, where they were
constructing boats to take them down river. It was most
fortunate for me, since I was able to secure from them
a supply of sugar, which by some oversight I had failed
to bring. Wishing luck to Rungius and Osgood, the
rest of us soon started and late in the afternoon reached
the Forks. There Selous and I separated from the others
and started up North Fork. ‘Taking canoes up this
Fork, especially when the water is low, is a harrowing
journey of persistent, hard work.

CHAPTER VI
UP THE NORTH FORK TO THE SELWYN ROCKIES—1904

Tue North Fork of the MacMillan varies in width
from seventy-five to two hundred feet. The current races
in numerous rapids around sharp curves, from five to
eight miles an hour, often along wide bars, and the banks
are full of driftwood, piled high in many places, causing
great difficulty in taking canoes around it. This Fork
resembles a mountain torrent more than the ordinary
river of the territory. We were obliged to tow the canoes
as far as we went, making use of paddles only for cross-
ing, and poles only to go around driftwood. The coun-
try on the right—between the Forks—consists of low,
rolling ridges; on the left it rises gradually to the Russell
Mountains, which were then white with snow that had
fallen the night before. That snow did not melt again
before the following spring.

After going three miles we made camp in the spruce
woods, where red squirrels were very abundant, chatter-
ing on all sides. Selous took his rifle and wandered for a
short distance up the river while I went back in the
woods. We returned later, and sat before the fire, re-
joicing to be separated from a crowd, so that we could

realize a more genuine wilderness charm as we watched
the sparks of the fire shooting up through the spruce trees,

97

98 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

and heard the splashing of the river as it raced around
the banks and glided over its rocky bottom.

September 2.—The next day we towed the boats, each
of us doing a share of work indifferently with our men,
until noon, when we stopped to make tea and eat lunch.
With ropes over our shoulders, we took turns at the
heavy pulling, walking on the bars, wading in the icy
cold water, toiling around driftwood, crossing from one
side of the river to the other, and continually straining
to drag the boats up the rifles. It was very hard work
and progress was slow. The river ran between ridges
which were mostly covered with black spruce and pop-
lars, though here and there white birches appeared.
The poplars and birches, tinted with fall colors, bright-
ened the wildness of the landscape. On the bars, numer-
ous tracks of bears attested their annual feasting on
salmon, all of which had died before our arrival. Moose
tracks, most of them old, were also abundant.

Not long after we had lunched, as Selous and I were
hauling the canoes, Louis saw a cow moose and her calf
well ahead on the other side of the river, and about to
cross. Selous, who was ahead, quickly took his rifle
from the canoe and crept forward, while we crouched
to the ground. As they waded the river, he circled
around some driftwood, waded a slough, and shot the
cow just as she was about to enter the woods. She stag-
gered back toward the river and fell dead in a slough.
As he signalled that she had fallen, I ran forward to
follow him. The calf, trotting about in perplexity, sud-
denly saw him and coming directly toward him stopped

‘S AWAANALdMYS “ASOOW AIVO AHL ANV SNOTAS

NORTH FORK TO THE SELWYN ROCKIES 99

to look at him, the hair on its foreshoulders erect and
bristling. Running back, I took my kodak from the boat
and returned in time to take a photograph, including both
Selous and the calf, which was by that time trotting
toward the woods. The wind was blowing directly from
him to the calf.

The others then came forward, and the moose was
dragged up on the bank and dressed. Here was meat
for the first time in several days, and we camped there
to enjoy the feast. Selous taught me a new delicacy—
the udder, which was cut out and boiled for several
hours until soft and tender. The next morning it was
sliced, rolled in flour, and fried. It proved to be delicious,
the choicest morsel of the animal. The same is true, as
I learned later, of the udders of sheep, caribou, and deer.

While dressing the moose a small black gnat, slightly
larger than the midge of Eastern Canada, swarmed about
us and its bite was particularly annoying. ‘The small
gnats begin to be troublesome all over the northern
country about the middle of August, after most of the
mosquitoes are gone, and continue until well into Sep-
tember. ‘They usually are found close to running water,
but are seldom seen above timber-line.

We took our rifles and went out for the remainder of
the day, Selous going up the bars, while I went back on
the ridges between the Forks. I followed a brook through
dense spruces, swamps, and deep sphagnum moss, to the
top of a ridge. High up on these ridges I found well-
beaten moose trails, usually running parallel with the
river; in some places they were worn three or four feet

100 «6m THE. WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

through the moss and soft ground to the roots of the
spruce trees. These trails are well-defined routes of
moose travel, and though intersected by others which
are less deeply worn, they parallel all the rivers and often
the smaller streams. The country was completely cov-
ered with timber and very broken, the slopes of the
ridges often very steep; and numerous brooks rising from
springs or small lakes farther back fell through small
cafions. There was little sign of game outside of the
moose trails; birds were very scarce, but rabbits and
red squirrels abundant. Such is the character of the coun-
try between the forks until well up the river near the
mountain ranges.

Returning I found a cheerful camp-fire, and after
gorging with meat, we chatted awhile before sleeping.
Suddenly, a short wailing cry sounded from the dark
woods not far distant. It was made by the calf, and we
both felt glad that it was old enough to take care of itself,
after the loss of its mother. We did not hear it again,
and slept in the cold, crisp air under the shining stars.

September 3.—The next day was one of continuous
towing in shallow water against a swifter current; the
driftwood increasing; the river curving more frequently.
At one point, near a high escarped bank, where the river
bends sharply to the south, we found a large beaver dam,
constructed across the mouth of a creek-channel, made
by the escape of a small volume of water around a bar
some distance above. Behind it were acres of water
flooding willows, alders, and poplars, and not far back
a family of beavers occupied a large house in three or

NORTH FORK TO THE SELWYN ROCKIES tor

four feet of water, surrounded by high poplars and wil-
lows. Selous and I waded to it and after examining it
with interest I took some photographs of it.

We made camp late in the afternoon near a flat swamp
covered with willows, alders, dwarf birch, and strewn
with burnt timber. After tramping about in it, Selous
returned and reported more fresh moose signs than we
had seen at any point along the river. Here we first
had a glimpse of the Selwyn range of mountains, rising
ahead in majestic peaks and offering encouragement
for a better game country.

As we were sitting about the fire fifty feet away from
the bank, in a dense thicket of woods, Louis suddenly
heard a bull moose walking on a bar on the opposite
side of the river. It was several degrees below frost and
Selous, though without trousers or shoes, took his rifle
and followed by Louis and myself picked his way in
the dark through the thick, tangled woods to the bank
of the river. But the moose had entered the poplars
and Louis in vain tried to entice it out by calling with a
birch-bark horn.

September 4.—In the morning a cold, stiff head-wind
chilled us and continued all day, as we plodded on under
conditions constantly becoming more difficult; and we
were disappointed not to see the mountains ahead, which
were covered with clouds. We finally arrived at Barr
Creek, where two trappers, Jack Barr and Crosby, had
been trapping the previous winter. We had seen a flock
of mergansers that day—the first ducks observed on the
North branch. Few birds of any kind had been noticed,

102 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

except an occasional hawk floating through the air or sit-
ting on a dead tree.

We pitched camp in a delightful spot in heavy spruce
woods, and Selous, as usual, went up the river to prospect
for game. I had each day set out traps for small mam-
mals, but without success. In front of camp, across the
river, were wide bars covered with willows, poplars, and
alders, all glowing with a rich fall color. The river, swift
and deep, fairly roared as it swirled around a huge pile of
driftwood and beat against the banks.

September 5.—It was snowing when we started; the
wind continued, and it was freezing in the afternoon, but
the travelling was a little better because of more bars
and less driftwood. It was gloomy work; all the hills
and ridges covered with thick clouds so we could see
nothing of the country ahead. At three in the after-
noon, when I came around a curve while Selous was a
few hundred yards ahead, I saw a large black bear,
feeding high on the slope of a ridge which extended paral-
lel with the river. Attracting Selous’s attention I has-
tened forward and urged him to go after it since he had
never before seen a wild bear in the wilderness. Coghlan,
Louis, and I tied the canoes to the bank, and watched the
stalk, all of which could be plainly seen from where we
stood on the bank of the river. On the slopes of the
ridge were many clear areas, which had been given a
reddish appearance by dwarf birch and _ huckleberry
bushes, then colored by the frost. It was in one of these
clear spaces that the bear was feeding. At intervals,
between them, strips of dense timber and undergrowth,

NORTH FORK TO THE SELWYN ROCKIES 103

several hundred feet wide, extended down to the river.
Selous started upward in a circle, and soon we saw him
climbing the ridge in one of the clearings, where there
was but one strip of timber between him and the bear,
which continued to feed, gradually approaching the tim-
ber. Having marked well the spot where he had last
seen the bear, he arrived at a point exactly opposite it
and started directly toward the timber. His approach
was then against the wind and he cautiously and slowly
went forward. Through my glasses, I could plainly see
the bear as it approached the woods, directly in line with
Selous’s advance, its glossy black eoat reflecting the sun-
light, which at times caused it to appear very large.
Both Selous and the bear entered the timber at the same
time, apparently approaching directly toward each other,
and momentarily I expected to hear a shot. Soon we
saw Selous emerge a little above where the bear had
entered, and proceed with caution, carefully looking
about. We knew that he had not seen the bear. After-
ward, I learned that the timber was filled with small
spruces, alders, and dwarf birch, so he could see only
a few feet in any direction. But he must have gone
through noiselessly and with skill, passing the bear within
a hundred feet or so, for shortly after he appeared, the
bear came out a little below the point where Selous had
entered the timber, and continued travelling in the oppo-
site direction, still feeding, and wholly unconscious of its
lucky escape. It fed along indifferently until it reached
the trail which Selous had made when ascending. Then
it suddenly threw up its head, gave a great jump, and

1o4 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

running with speed down the ridge disappeared in the
timber. Once before, in Mexico, I had seen a similar
action on the part of a grizzly bear when it crossed the
fresh trail of a man, and it was extremely interesting
thus to witness a second case. Selous, still looking for
the bear, had passed out of sight along the ridge. When
the bear began to run, I immediately crossed the river,
and, in my efforts to hurry in the direction it had taken,
almost bogged myself in a slough. I could not find a
trace of it and returned. Selous came in later, after we
had made camp, thoroughly perplexed at not having
seen the bear at all. Though an excellent stalk was
frustrated by such bad luck, the sight of game was stimu-
lating and made us eager to advance, particularly since
our goal was then not very far ahead.

September 6.—We had undertaken to go up the North
Branch without any knowledge of the country, so it was
necessary for us to explore for a good place to find
game. The next day was the most trying one of our
trip up the North Branch It was cold, cloudy, windy,
and wintry. The river was narrower and more tortuous;
its banks were continually lined with driftwood and bor-
dered by ice; the current was swifter, and often the water
was so shallow that we had difficulty in towing the canoes
without unloading them. Until late in the afternoon we
worked while hands, legs, and feet were numb with cold.
At a point where the river bends to the north and finds
its course between high mountain ranges, not far below
Husky Dog Creek, we decided to stop and make a recon-
naissance with a view to locating a camp at timber-line,

SELOUS TOWING THE CANOE, SEPTEMBER 6,

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NORTH FORK TO THE SELWYN ROCKIES 105

high on the ranges to the south. It was so misty that we
could not see the mountains, and soon snow began to
fall and continued more or less all night. It was dark
at 7.30.

September 7.—In the morning three or four inches of
snow covered the ground, and snow continued to fall at
intervals all day. Selous soon started to investigate
moose signs on the flats, while I directed my course
toward the mountains, hoping to find a good place near
timber-line to make a camp, and also a good route up
the slopes, since we were obliged to carry our equipment
and provisions on our backs.

South of the river, a hundred feet from the bank, is a
terrace thirty or forty feet high which extends north,
parallel with the river for many miles. The country
behind it, both flat and rolling, extends two miles to the
foot of the mountains. This broad, level country, all
burnt over, was covered with moss, brush, huckleberry
bushes, and cranberries, and strewn with tangled logs.
Swampy in places, it is dotted with small lakes, and the
standing burnt trees scattered through it give an aspect
of grim desolation. Old moose tracks were everywhere,
and well-cut trails parallel with the river were frequent.
While passing through it I saw several flocks of migrating
robins, a grouse, some hawk owls, and many Alaska jays
and red squirrels. But no other animals were observed
during the rest of the day, and the fresh snow disclosed
no tracks of any kind, except those of red squirrels.

I climbed the lower ridges, ascended the mountains to
timber-line, and followed along the side of a deep ravine,

106 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

through which a fair-sized brook, cutting in some places
deep cafions, came down from a rather broad valley,
between high, rough mountains. This valley, gently
rising, was enclosed in an amphitheatre of rugged moun-
tains, rising abruptly to high peaks and jagged crests
glistening in the snow. All through the northern coun-
try such places are called draws, signifying, I think, a
suitable conformation of the land to ‘‘draw” the water
from the adjacent mountain slopes. At the heads of
each of these draws above timber, there is usually an
area, level or gently sloping, covered with dwarf birch,
willow, and alder, all extending well up the adjacent
slopes. The ground is boggy, and the abundant willow
growth provides the favorite food of the moose in fall
and winter. Everywhere at the head of a draw old
moose tracks were so abundant that the place looked like
a cow pasture, and as many tracks were observed among
the willows of the higher slopes as in the area below. A
well-defined moose trail always runs on each side of the
creeks which flow from the draws, and the trail often
leads over low saddles between the ranges to the head of
another draw.

I chose a place for a camp close to the brook, near
the end of timber, in a location suitable for climbing the
mountains on either side. The mountains were then
so covered with mist that I could not use my field-glasses
to find likely places for sheep. On returning I learned
that Selous had seen no fresh signs of any kind. Our
limited time, the difficulty of climbing the mountains cov-
ered with light snow, our ignorance of the country, and

NORTH FORK TO THE SELWYN ROCKIES 107

the lack of game seen up to that time, did not look en-
couraging; and since the snow continued to fall, we felt
some anxiety as to the ultimate success of our trip.

September 8.—Snow was falling when we rose, but it
was a wet snow and not likely to continue all day; we
therefore decided to start. A cache was made by sus-
pending some poles about ten feet up between trees, and
on it were placed the provisions and materials we could
not carry. These caches are always necessary, as other-
wise provisions might be taken by bears, wolverines, or
wolves. Packs were made up and, putting them on our
backs, we started about noon, crossed the flat, and while
climbing the ridges were soaked to the skin from the wet
snow suspended on the brush. This caused us to become
chilled as we toiled upward with aching backs through
deep snow and thick undergrowth. The mountains, cov-
ered with mist, could not be seen. Late in the afternoon,
as we were walking on the slope near the upper flat of
the draw, Louis, who was ahead, saw a bull moose feed-
ing in the willow brush some seven or eight hundred yards
below, near the brook. Selous, who was following Louis,
immediately started to find an approach to it, and con-
cealed as we were behind some low spruces, we had the
pleasure of watching the whole stalk.

For a few moments I watched the moose as he was
standing and feeding, but as I turned my head to note
Selous’s course, the bull apparently disappeared, and Louis
whispered that he had lain down. I looked carefully
through my field-glasses, but he blended so perfectly with
the willows and alders that he was not visible. Finally,

108 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

as he moved his head, I could make out the tops of his
horns, then hardly distinguishable from the brush be-
cause of the strips of velvet still hanging on them. We
waited with keen interest for Selous to come in sight.
He had started in a circular course to approach the
moose against the wind, which was blowing up the brook.
He finally appeared and began to approach with the
utmost caution, advancing in a straight line toward the
exact spot where the moose was resting. Selous was too
experienced to have neglected to mark a tall tree near
which the moose was standing when he started, so that
he could find the place after circling through the woods.
Finally, coming nearer, he advanced step by step to
within thirty feet and stood looking. Louis whispered:
“Now you see moose jump and run!” But I saw Selous
approach a few steps, bend forward, put up his rifle and
fire. He immediately shouted, and knowing the moose
was dead we hurried to the spot. Selous had suspected
that the moose was lying down, and at last had seen the
tips of its horns. A step or two nearer brought the head
and neck of the unsuspecting bull in sight, and the
bullet was delivered at the base of the brain. It was
a large old bull, with broad, flat horns, well palmated,
spreading fifty-seven inches—an unusually fine trophy.
That was our introduction to a camp soon made near
the carcass. We had brought only a large piece of can-
vas, and when poles had been cut and inclined against
a cross-pole, it was thrown over them. Spruce bows
were strewn beneath it and the shelter was complete. A
big fire was started; the packs were opened; their con-

SELOUS’S BULL, SHOT SEPTEMBER 8.

“WE ENDURED IT SITTING UNDER THE SHELTER,” SEPTEMBER T4.

NORTH FORK TO THE SELWYN ROCKIES tog

tents arranged in order under the shelter, and after feast-
ing on fresh meat we sat in front of the fire that night
feeling more cheerful than at any time since leaving
Dawson. We were at last camped high up among the
mountains, a fine trophy was in our possession, and we
slept soundly after enjoying the dim picture of the
rugged mountain in front, its peak, viewed through the
spark-spangled smoke of the fire, towering high above
like a huge white spectre. The mercury responded to
the higher elevation by descending to sixteen degrees
Fahrenheit above zero, the lowest recorded up to that
time.

September 9.—It was snowing the next morning, but
cleared soon after I started to climb the ridge north of
camp and ascend the high mountains beyond. Selous
remained in camp to prepare his trophy. The snow on
the low sprucesand dwarf birches gave a true wintry aspect
to the landscape. Up to that time I had not convinced
myself that leather moccasins were a failure for walking
in the snow, but during the ascent of a steep slope, covered
with five inches of snow, I soon realized it. Slipping and
often falling, it was next to impossible to climb, but finally
I reached the top. The sky was perfectly clear and for
the first time I beheld the landscape of the Selwyn ranges.

They are entirely different from the Ogilvie Rockies.
Instead of a series of parallel ranges, the Selwyns consist of
irregular groups of mountains, often isolated by wide val-
leys, the summits from six to eight thousand feet above
sea level. The sculpturing of the granite is bold, rugged,
and massive, the shattered pinnacled crests forming an

110 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

imposing sky-line. ‘Timber-line is between three and four
thousand feet above sea level.

Looking below over the vast area of burnt ground,
wild and desolate, I could see the river continually curving
in its course. Beyond it were two high mountain ranges
which did not obstruct a view of the sharp peaks and
broken crests of the Russell Mountains. Toward the
south-west were the lower ridges and timbered country,
including the area between the Forks; and directly south
were valleys and woods, extending several miles to a lofty
plateau-shaped mountain, its broad dome deceiving the
eye as to its altitude. Looking up the river, the vision
was lost in a horizon of mountains and peaks, some misty
and dim, others glittering in the paths of sunlight where-
ever it broke through the clouds. The valley above camp
was characteristic—a broad area surrounded by an am-
phitheatre of the highest peaks, rising above shaggy crests
and often above vast precipices. Below the highest
peak, almost suspended at the foot of a great cliff high
on the mountain-side, the protruding slope held a beau-
tiful little lake covered with clear, silvery ice, which re-
flected the crags and peaks above it. A little farther. on,
along the same range, but still higher up, was another
lake set in almost perpendicular walls of granite, which
surrounded it on three sides. The whole country was
covered with snow and seemed bleak and inhospitable.

As I looked over the small lake a golden eagle was
soaring along the cliffs, rising now and then to the crest,
and, after circling over the peaks, again descended until
it floated across the valley to the higher summits beyond.

SELWYN ROCKIES, SEPTEMBER 18.

ie < fas

NORTH FORK TO THE SELWYN ROCKIES 111

Here and there I heard the whistling chatter of a ground-
squirrel still defying the snow and cold before retiring
into its hole to sleep. I wandered about the mountain
top and along the crest, hopelessly unable to make much
progress because of my slippery moccasins, without seeing
tracks or signs of sheep, and at times, when the sun shone
through the clouds and mist, almost blinded by the glare
of the fresh snow. I returned to camp at dark, somewhat
discouraged by the difficulty of ranging over mountains
covered with light snow which was not deep enough to
provide a foothold. Besides, many of the slopes were so
icy that in any case much distance could not be covered
in the short hours of daylight.

CHAPTER Vil
SEARCHING FOR SHEEP—1904

September 10.—The thermometer again went to six-
teen degrees during the night, and the next day was
cloudy, with an occasional patch of blue sky, but there
was a strong wind all the afternoon. Selous went to the
mountains on the south; the men to the river to bring
back some provisions; and I over the north ridges to
investigate the mountains beyond. I wore shoes of rubber
with leather uppers, similar to those used by lumbermen
in the forests of the North. In wet snow the uppers
would soak through and the feet would soon become wet,
but though far from good foot-gear for climbing, they
were not so slippery as the moccasins.

Soon after going over the ridge I saw _bear-tracks
leading down into the timber, and followed them for some
distance until convinced they had been made several
hours before. ‘Then, abandoning the trail, I climbed the
face of the mountain and proceeded along the slope. The
tracks of a cow and calf moose soon appeared, showing
that they had travelled a short distance outside of the
timber to feed on the willows. Crossing a small draw, I
climbed to the top of a high smooth mountain, on the
left of which was the head of a magnificent elevated draw

I1I2

SEARCHING FOR SHEEP 113

extending some two or three miles in level, swampy mead-
ows dotted with miniature lakes.

The tracks of a ewe and lamb appeared on the top of
the mountain and I followed them along the crest. While
walking I flushed a large flock of ptarmigan already pure
white. The trail led down a slope so precipitous that I
could not descend. Several more flocks of ptarmigan
were seen flying about the rocks near the crests; a few
ground-squirrels were running about, and an eagle was
soaring back and forth against the background of snow
on the range immediately to the east. Below, about a
hundred yards above timber, I saw the tracks of a band
of ten or twelve sheep which had come from the north.
All along the trail they had scattered to browse among
the willows, and numerous bare spots indicated that
they had pawed away the snow to get at grass and
weeds.

After searching, a difficult descent was found, and ac-
complishing it, I followed the trail until too late to pro-
ceed further. Returning to camp, which was reached
shortly after dark, I heard the cheering news that Selous
had killed two caribou, one a large bull with fine antlers,
and had seen a cow near them. But what was still more
interesting, he had seen a small band of ewe sheep which
appeared very wild, and among them had observed two
ewes, as white as those of the Ogilvie Rockies, each having
two lambs, three of which were white, the fourth as dark
as Ovis stonei! The men had returned and reported
having seen a small brown bear—undoubtedly the brown
phase of the black bear.

114 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

September 11.—The night was warmer and the next
day was fairly clear. Selous went with the men to get
his heads, and I returned to the sheep tracks of the day
before, about four miles distant from camp. They finally
crossed the draw into the timber and through my glasses
I could see the spoor leading up the ridges beyond—too
far to hunt for them and return to camp that day. I
then climbed a mountain to the east, and walked through
the snow-drifts along the crest, among scattering flocks
of ptarmigan, until noon, when I seated myself to take a
bit of lunch and also to scan through my field-glasses the
new country toward the north. Within an hour, when
looking through the glasses across a small basin to some
ridges beyond, a white ewe appeared, accompanied by a
black lamb. By white I mean that its appearance was as
white as that of the sheep of the Kenai Peninsula, though
an inspection of its skin would have revealed dark hairs
scattered through it. The lamb appeared black, but the
color was nearly that of Ours stonez. They descended
with the greatest caution, stopping every few feet to
look about, and particularly to gaze into the basin
below.

A very steep slope in front of me fell to a low ridge,
and though in plain sight, I carefully slid by degrees to
the foot of the slope, stopping motionless every time the
ewe looked up, for she had reached the basin and while
browsing among the willows, kept watching above as
well as in other directions. Proceeding along the ridge
to the edge of the basin I hid behind a willow bush about
five hundred feet above the ewe, and watched them for a

SEARCHING FOR SHEEP 115

long time. They soon fed toward me and came within
a hundred yards, when I carefully noted the colors.
I have never ceased regretting that I did not kill and
preserve them for science. In half an hour, stones were
heard falling from the slope above and two more ewes
appeared, descending, both of a whitish appearance like
the darker ones near Coal Creek. All continued to
browse on willows and scratch away the snow to reach
feed on the ground. Among the willows and bare
patches of ground, their color blended so perfectly with
their surroundings, that often, after glancing away from
them for a moment, it was difficult to see them again.
After awhile they began to return slowly up the slope,
continuing to feed until finally I noticed the two single
ewes standing motionless for a long time, directing a
steady gaze to the north.

Looking in that direction, I saw, about half a mile
distant, a cow moose and her calf, feeding among the wil-
lows on a ridge the other side of a small draw; they were
gradually advancing in my direction. ‘There in the snow
fields, under towering peaks and rugged mountains,
while sheep were feeding close by on the broken slopes,
I had my first sight of moose above timber-line in the
northern wilderness. The cow, between pauses to browse
on willows, continued walking without looking up or show-
ing the least suspicion of enemies, presenting a significant
contrast to the alert, watchful sheep. When the moose
had passed out of sight near the foot of the ridge, I began
to walk slowly toward that part of the slope where they
were apt to ascend. When I was within one hundred

116 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

feet of the edge, they appeared, and, instantly seeing me,
stopped to gaze at me.

My kodak was ready, and after a snapshot was taken
I began slowly to approach them. ‘The wind was blow-
ing at right angles and evidently carried my scent past
them. As I came to within forty or fifty feet, the cow
appeared to resent my nearer approach, inclined her ears
back, made a slight motion of the lips, and stood in such
an attitude of warning that I thought she might possibly
charge me. The calf, assuming an attitude of readiness
for instant flight, was standing nearer the edge of the
slope, its head turned away from me. After taking a
nearer snapshot, I determined to walk slowly in a circle
for the purpose of testing the effect of coming in the wind,
which would give them my scent. Gradually I circled
around to the right, and suddenly, as a breeze caught
me in the right position, the cow jumped as if receiving
an electric shock, and, followed by the calf, went trotting
down the slope, to disappear in the timber below. Never
was the comparative effect of sight and scent better tested
on a cow moose, and in a locality which human beings
seldom frequent.

While retracing my steps, I noticed that the sheep
were not in sight, but when climbing the mountain I had
descended, the ewe and black lamb suddenly appeared
on the crest above, glanced down at me for a moment and
then ran off. It was very cold and blowing hard before
I reached camp, some time after dark, to learn that Selous
had followed tracks of both sheep and caribou without
seeing the animals. His sympathy was comfortirz in our

“THE COW APPEARED TO RESENT MY NEARER APPROACH,” SEPTEMBER 173,

5 a Me inf ae at asia i e

SEARCHING FOR SHEEP U7.

common annoyance because of the snow, which, though
it glistened in the sun and spread a sparkling white man-
tle over the country, adding beauty to the landscape, made
the mountain hunting most difficult and discouraging.

September 12.—Again I was in quest of rams, and
started early for the mountains at the head of the draw.
A heavy snow blizzard soon developed and continued at
intervals all day. For three miles I tramped through the
timber, then to the head, above which, in all directions,
numerous marmots were whistling among the broken
rocks. I climbed on the crest and after a brief glimpse
of the top, the snow beat down so hard that I could see
but a few yards, and was obliged to return, reaching camp
at dark. I had seen old bear tracks in the timber, and
had noticed old moose tracks everywhere on the moun-
tain slopes as high as the willows grew, which in some
places on the south exposures was nearly to the crest.
Selous had occupied his day by following for several
hours the tracks of a bull moose and two cows. ‘The
tracks had led in a circle to his own trail made in the
morning. As the moose crossed it, he read on the snow
that they had broken into a trot, consequently he knew it
was useless to continue following.

September 13.—It rained and stormed all night and was
warmer the next morning. I climbed the ridges back of
camp, proceeded along the mountain slope, crossed the
meadows and followed a well-worn sheep-trail to the top
of the ridges beyond. Following the ridge against a
strong wind, while it continued to snow and rain alter-
nately, I found a bull moose’s trail made the night before

118 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

and leading to the timber on the other side. Continuing,
I reached the next mountain, and ascended its peak after
working my way upward among boulders and coarse,
broken rock, the spaces between them filled with snow
which caused many falls and bruises. Later, the snow
ceased and the clouds began to rise so that I could look
over on the slopes of a high, massive mountain still far-
ther to the west,and separated from me by a deep valley.
There, well up near the crest, I saw through my field-
glasses, nine sheep, apparently ewes and lambs. The
rain again began to fall, so, returning along the ridge and
reaching the foot at dark, I struggled for three miles
back to camp. Ptarmigan were very abundant on the
mountains south of the meadows, and a flock of migrat-
ing robins had passed over me.

Selous had been out all day without seeing any game,
and since we had exhausted the country within available
walking distance from camp, we decided to move the
next day near the meadows I had crossed in the morn-
ing. Rain fell all night and still more all the next day.
We endured it, sitting under the shelter. It grew colder
the next night and the following day broke clear.

September 15.—We made up our packs, climbed the
ridge, and proceeded along the mountain-slope to the
meadows. After crossing them, a camping site was
found a hundred yards up a slope, in the timber near
the sheep-trail which I had followed two days before.

‘c

It rained at intervals as we were “packing” over to the
new camping place, and it was snowing as we made it,

but the snow soon ceased falling.

SEARCHING FOR SHEEP 11g

Selous went to make a reconnoissance of the ridges
opposite the north end of the meadows, while I again took
to the sheep-trail, intending to go over to the big mountain
where I had seen sheep two days before. Three well-
defined sheep-trails crossed the meadows and passed up
through the timber on both sides of the draw. In the
timber and for a considerable distance above, was a
dense growth of dwarf birch mixed with willow and
alder. The fact that these trails, seldom used by the
sheep, were so well beaten that all the underbrush had
been carefully cleaned from them, is evidence of their
having been trodden for numerous generations. The
dense growth of underbrush made walking through the
timber most difficult and tiresome when off the sheep-
trails.

Passing north along the ridge and ascending the next
mountain, I saw on top of a high ridge to the north-west
two small lakes surrounded by narrow meadows, which
from my position seemed almost suspended in the air.
Through my field-glasses, a cow moose followed by two
calves was seen feeding on the shore. I watched them
for awhile as they browsed on the willows, when sud-
denly a mist was blown on the mountains, rain began to
fall, and it became so dark that I could see only a few
feet below. The weather had again thwarted me, so
turning back in mist, rain, and snow, I descended through
the woods in the dark, fighting every step against the
thick growth of spruce and underbrush, until camp was
finally reached. Selous had seen a band of nine ewes on
the mountain which I had approached, but not wishing

1700 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

to disturb my ground he had tramped all the afternoon
without seeing anything more.

September 16.—It snowed about half an hour early
the next morning as I was heading through the meadows
directly for the north mountain, but all the rest of the
day a strong wind blew from the north. Just before I
arrived at the foot, I saw a single ewe and lamb, both
white in appearance, following a sheep-trail high on the
slope. This trail was so well beaten that it was clearly
defined in the broken rock and visible at a long distance.
They soon passed out of sight around the slope, and with
very slow progress, zigzagging up through snow and
over slippery rock, I gained the top of the mountain—a
great dome-shaped snow-field glittering in the sun and
almost blinding me.

This mountain was the first one rising above the
valley of the river where it bends to an easterly course—
and a new landscape stretched before me. For the first
time there was an unobstructed view to the north. Below,
bordering the river, was the same desolate flat country
all covered with timber, and with lakes and meadow
glades scattered about, some of them high on the slopes
of the ridges; while rising from the dark-timbered area,
as far as the eye could reach, extending beyond the
Stewart River on the north, and toward the Mackenzie
divide on the east, were parallel chains of majestic, snow-
covered mountains—a vast, austere wilderness, all the
mighty summits shining under the dazzling rays of the
sun. These were the Selwyn Rockies.

Chilled by the strong, cold wind, I went along the

SEARCHING FOR SHEEP 121

crest, constantly pausing to scan the steep slopes below,
now advancing to the edge of a vast precipice, now round-
ing a ledge to seek a view of places where sheep might
remain sheltered from the wind. There was not a sound
but that from the gusts of wind whirling the snow in clouds
about me, and the occasional croaks of ravens flying by.
Several large flocks of ptarmigan passed close to the crest,
and when flying across the sun their wings reflected an
exquisite tint of pink in contrast with the white plumage
of their bodies.

After traversing the crest to the north end, I started
to descend the steep, dangerous slope in order to return
along its foot where I would be less exposed to the piercing
wind. When half way down I seated myself to take a
look through my field-glasses, and saw seven ewes and
lambs lying down a hundred yards above the timber
directly below me. They were all alertly watching, and
one ewe seemed to be looking directly at me. Quickly
sliding into a hollow which led down the slope, I worked
my way to a ledge about three hundred yards above
them, and, creeping to the edge, looked over. They were
still lying down, all looking up the mountain except one,
which kept watching below. They had not seen me,
and were peacefully resting, but keeping their heads
erect in alert, nervous attitudes. My disappointment at
not finding rams on such a high, rough mountain was
keen, and fearing that other sheep from this district
might not be obtained, I determined to kill two of them.
Taking a seat at the edge of the ledge for the purpose of
studying a method of descent, I found that it was impos-

122 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

sible without coming in plain sight of the sheep, and in
the hope that they might feed upward toward me was
obliged to wait patiently until they should rise. It would
have been trying to the patience to have waited, as I did
for three hours on that bleak slope, had not the wilder-
ness given up to my eyes one of those rare sights which
ever after haunts the memory.

Directly below the vast timbered area, cut with cafions
and dotted with small lakes, extended in rolling ridges to,
and beyond, the river. The deep valley of Husky Dog
Creek was plainly in view, winding upward to a large
lake a thousand feet above the river’s dancing riffles
which, as the current raced over its stony bottom,
shimmered in the sunlight. On the north, not far from
Husky Dog Creek, a large yellow meadow-land con-
taining a small lake made a bright patch in the dark
timber. A look through my field-glasses revealed a large
bulky animal walking across it. The animal, now stand-
ing still, now feeding, finally remained motionless in the
centre for an hour, and then continued to feed again, still
keeping in sight in the meadow-land. It was a big,
solitary bull moose, its horns not distinguishable enough
in the distance to show their size.

Shortly after seeing him, when looking over the coun-
try on the other side of a deep canon below me, I saw
another small glade containing a tiny lake, its ice spark-
ling in the sun—a mysterious little opening buried in the
wild spruce forest. There I beheld another large bull
moose, his huge antlers shining apparently pure white
under the sun, and near him a cow and a calf. Silently,

SEARCHING FOR SHEEP 123

alone, unseen, while the wonderful panorama of landscape
was spread out before me, I watched that picture of wild
life. I was unsuspected by all living creatures except the
ravens which occasionally circled above me uttering their
hoarse croaks.

For three hours, as I shivered and kept low behind a
large rock, the sheep and the moose remained in sight.
The bull with the cow seemed to feed about the meadow,
its head close to the ground as if cropping the grass off
the small hummocks; while the cow, quite indifferent to
him, kept browsing on the willows along the edge of the
woods, its calf sometimes near, at other times disappearing
altogether in the spruces. After an hour, the bull lay
down in the centre of the meadow near the lake, while the
cow continued feeding. The bull had evidently seques-
tered the cow for awhile in that hidden spot, to enjoy his
short family life—not always, perhaps, so easily obtained.
It would not have been a difficult matter to stalk with a
chance of success, for I could lay out a good course against
the wind to a knoll above and near the meadow which
was little more than half a mile distant from me. But
having resolved not to go for moose until I had secured
sufficient specimens of sheep, I did not want to lose an
opportunity when sheep were practically within shot
below me.

Finally, the ewes rose and began feeding along the
slope in a direction away from me. There was no alter-
native, and I put up the three-hundred-yard sight. At
the first shot a ewe fell dead, and another at the third—
both struck in the neck. The others dashed diagonally

124 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

up the slope, not impeded in the least by the ice, snow,
and slippery rocks.

Immediately after firing, I looked through my field-
glasses at the nearer bull moose. He had evidently heard
the shot, for he was standing and looking up the mountain
in my direction, in which attitude he remained until I
hurried down the slope to a point where the glade was
lost to view. All the ewes, which I had examined care-
fully through my field-glasses, were of the same color as
the darker ones killed on Coal Creek. I gralloched both
and skinned the back of one and relieved it of its saddles,
which I shouldered as I began the tramp of five miles
across the rough country back to camp. It was my in-
tention to come back and get the skins and skulls. Before
dark I had struggled across the side of the mountain, and
during the last hour stumbled in the darkness through
bog, hummocks, and brush, until I thought I was oppo-
site camp and went up in the timber. Not finding it, a
shout brought back a welcome response from Selous. I
had passed the spot by a hundred yards. The men had
gone down to the river, where they were passing the night,
and were to return the next day with more provisions.
Some tenderloin mutton was soon cooking over the fire,
and Selous related his experience of the day, which had
resulted in a long, hard tramp without seeing anything
but caribou tracks.

CHAPTER VIII
LOOKING FOR RAMS—1904

September 17.—The next day I hunted the ridges and
mountains behind camp, and, after a careful search, was
obliged to return without having seen anything except
some new sheep tracks which indicated the presence of
a band somewhere in that locality, and warned me that
the country had better be avoided for a day or two.
The ground-squirrels had all retired for the winter, but
red squirrels were abundant in the woods. Several large
flocks of ravens were seen; possibly they were migrating
to another locality. Selous had climbed over the moun-
tains on the north-east and found a magnificent draw at
the head of Clearwater Creek. There he had killed a
bull moose with very small horns, although they appeared
large when he shot it. The moon was nearly full and
judging by the new tracks of bulls, then occurring every-
where even on the tops of the ridges, the rut was in full
swing and the bulls were travelling widely.

September 18.—The temperature was falling fast when
we went to sleep, and in the morning the thermometer
recorded six degrees above zero. Selous took Louis to
accompany him to the Clearwater draw, and I started to
climb the mountain in front of camp. It was clear all
day and a cold wind swept the snow in great clouds about
the crests. Passing through the timber, I saw the fresh

125

126 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

trail of a grizzly bear going north along the foot of the
slope. I began to ascend, but it became steeper and
steeper, and as it had been so cold the night before, an
inch of snow which covered it was very dry and slippery,
and parts of the slope where it had blown away were
almost ice. The ascent became more difficult and I had
to stretch out my hands and fairly crawl until reaching
a point where I could not retrace my steps without slip-
ping. It was so precipitous that it was very dangerous to
continue. I had to use the butt of my rifle as a staff and
jam it into the frozen ground at each step until, to my
relief, the crest was gained. I crossed the rolling fields
of snow extending to the main range beyond, and climb-
ing a mountain proceeded along the crest, scanning the
_country on the other side. No sheep were seen, nor any
tracks, and I descended, took up the bear’s trail, and
followed it until necessary to turn back if camp was to be
reached by dark. I had observed through my field-
glasses a band of sheep on the mountains north-east of
camp and thought that I could distinguish two dark
rams. I noticed that the night before a wolverine had
followed the back track of Selous’s trail to a point op-
posite camp, where it had crossed the meadows and en-
tered the woods some distance away from the shelter.

After supper, Coghlan and I were sitting about the
fire, having concluded that Selous and Louis were passing
the night near the Clearwater draw, when we heard
them coming up through the woods. As Selous ap-
proached the fire, there was an elasticity in his step that
did not signify an arduous day’s tramp without success,

LOOKING FOR RAMS 127

and it was pleasant to learn that he had killed two moose.
One had small horns, the other a magnificent pair, sixty-
seven inches in spread, with very large burrs and broad
blades, one of which was slightly deformed. It was alto-
gether the wildest and most impressive moose-head that I
have ever seen. It alone made his long trip from Eng-
land to those northern wilds a success, and none but
those who have suffered discomfort and discouragement
of continuous bad weather and tiresome and difficult
tramping over rough country can appreciate how richly
his hard, persistent work had deserved this reward.

September 19.—That night was still colder, and in the
morning the thermometer recorded one above zero, but
the day was calm, without a cloud in the sky, and with a
light breeze blowing. I ascended the sheep-trail, hoping
to find the band of sheep known to be somewhere on the
range behind camp. After reaching the top, a flock of
robins, the last observed, went by; a wolverine’s tracks
wandered all over the ridge; and a little further along,
the tracks of a black bear and cub crossed over to the
timber on the west.

Looking through my field-glasses at the mountain
toward the north, I saw thirteen sheep descending in
single file on a sheep-trail, all coming in my direction.
Quickly advancing several hundred yards, as they disap-
peared in a saddle between the uneven slopes, I stretched
flat on my stomach in the trail, and thus concealed by the
formation of the surface, waited. After awhile they
came in sight, still in the trail and not more than a quarter
of a mile away. Two of them were dark, almost like Ous

128 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

stone1, two slightly lighter; the remaining nine were white,
like the sheep of the Ogilvie Rockies. Two of the
darker ones were three-year-old rams. Lightly and
quickly they stepped along, now running a few jumps,
now separating in disorder, and after standing rigidly to
scrutinize the surrounding country, they again advanced
in single file. Before I could realize it, they were within
a hundred yards, on a level with me. Aiming at a ram,
my rifle misfired twice, but the third pull of the trigger
sent a bullet which killed him. A second shot killed the
other ram, and the third, a dark ewe, as the band was
running in a circle. Twice I fired at the remaining dark
ewe and missed, but at the next shot the bullet struck her
and she began to totter in such a way that I knew the
wound was serious. The band stopped for a moment
and began to walk toward the other side of the ridge
while I was taking my kodak from my riicksack. The
wounded one staggered along and I followed quickly.
The band stopped to look at me, and being near I took
several photographs of it. All the time while I was fol-
lowing, a breeze blew directly from me to them, and my
scent did not frighten them. Soon they walked away,
and finally broke into a run as they circled around the
top and disappeared. It was about noon.

Walking ahead I saw the wounded ewe fifty yards
below, lying down on the slope, and a final shot killed it.
Here at last was success. Although the rams were small,
I had secured a fine series of the sheep of this district, and
that was the main object of my trip. Under a blue sky, in
the cold, crisp air, warmed by the shining sun, I worked

‘Ol ATAWALAAS ‘AATIUM AM 61 AAAWALAIS ‘ATTIIM WVU ANOOAS ‘Ol UAANALAAS ‘AATIIM WVA ISaTy

Fai vp -6 i
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LOOKING FOR RAMS 129

until dark to take the skins off. I then put two of the
heads in my riicksack, threw the four skins over my shoul-
ders, and slowly staggered down the slope and through the
woods, which were then dimly lighted by moonlight.

Alas for the remainder of that band! Without sus-
picion of danger they had circled around and descended
by the same trail on which I had come up in the morn-
ing. Selous, who had remained in camp all day to pre-
pare his moose scalp, had gone for a moment to the water
hole back of the shelter, when he saw them standing
near on the trail. Not knowing that I had killed any
sheep, and in order that we might not miss the chance
to get mutton so close to camp, he permitted Louis to
take the rifle and kill two.

I had not even paused to eat lunch, and after refresh-
ing myself with tea and food, we sat about the crackling
fire, which radiated its genial warmth through the freezing
dry air. After going under my sleeping robe, for a long
time I remained awake, inspired by the infinite glory of
a wonderful aurora flashing in an arc from mountain
to mountain. ‘The woods, the snowy meadows, and the
rugged mountains before us were bathed in the soft
moonlight under that magnificent, brilliantly lighted circle
of flashing light.

September 20.—In the morning the thermometer re-
corded three degrees below zero, and just after waking,
as I was looking along the bleak crest of the mountain
opposite, my eye caught a large, dark object on the sky-
line. Quickly taking my field-glasses, a sight was re-
vealed that will never be forgotten. A large bull moose,

130 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

the monarch of the vast northern forest, stood motionless
on the crest, gazing at the country below. His antlers
appeared large and white under the sunlight, as the out-
line of his huge form stood out boldly against the back-
ground of cliffs and snowy peaks behind. What a pleas-
ure it was to have Selous there to enjoy with me that
wonderful picture. The moose soon turned back out of
sight, and, after a bite of breakfast, I went well toward
the lower end of the meadows to a point where the wind
was favorable, and gradually climbed to the crest, hoping
that he might still remain above the timber. His trail
indicated that he had descended to a strip of forest ex-
tending up a small draw, and emerging on the other side
he had continued to the main area of woods beyond.
For a long distance the blood sprinkled on the snow
along his trail revealed the romance of the annual rut-
rivalry and strife. His battle must have been unsuccess-
fully fought some distance away, for there were no other
tracks near. I followed the trail for an hour to a point
where the woods were dense and filled with brush, and
then concluded to return to camp. Selous and Louis had
gone over to the Clearwater draw, the former intending
to pass the night, and Coghlan had gone down in the tim-
ber to get some birch bark for the making of a horn to
call moose. The remainder of the morning and a good
part of the afternoon were spent in preparing the sheep
skins until Coghlan returned, when a horn was quickly
made. I then went to the north end of the meadows
and gave several calls and waited until dark, but there
was no response and I returned to camp.

LOOKING FOR RAMS 131

September 21.—Louis had returned with the big moose
head and the next morning both he and Coghlan, bring-
ing all the trophies they could carry, started for the river.
It was still below zero and another perfect day. Going
to the north end of the meadows I climbed to the saddle
between the two mountains, observing that several moose
had recently travelled over it, and descended to the
timber on the other side. Shortly I came upon the tracks
of a large grizzly and followed them along the slope of
the north mountain, until the trail went into the timber.
_ Climbing high and circling about, I examined the west
face of the mountain for sheep, but observed no signs.
Descending, I went through the timber to the two lakes
where, on September 15th, the cow moose had been seen
with two calves. I reached them late in the afternoon.
Fresh moose tracks were all about, and, excited by my
presence, the jays and red squirrels made so much noise
that it seemed almost like a natural warning to any moose
that might be near.

The lakes were surrounded with timber; a light wind
was blowing, and it was impossible to find a good place
to call. I went up on the slope of a bare hill near one
of the lakes and gave a call. Immediately to the right,
on the other side of the lake, sounded the grunt of a bull,
and, in a moment, I heard another bull coming from the
left. In front of me was a clear space by the lake, and
both bulls were moving about in the timber not more
than two hundred yards away, but they would not come
out. I waited in silence. Soon the grunting of one
continued still more to the right and I knew he was

132 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

circling. The other had ceased for some time when I
heard him around the hill behind me to the left. After
awhile both ceased, and I knew that they had received
my wind.

It was then dark at six, and after passing through a
fringe of timber, I slowly and carefully climbed the steep
slope of the mountain in the light of a brilliant full moon.
Reaching the top, I walked for three miles through the
snow-fields on the edge of the crest. Below were white
meadows dotted with frozen ponds and little lakes, their
ice sheets dimly reflecting the bold, rugged mountains,
which appeared sombre white above the deep shadows
on the slopes, while the lofty outlines of the sharp peaks
behind stood out like huge sentinels in the pale, clear
sky. All the snow-fields sparkled golden under the mel-
low rays, while the dark timber area below on the other
side, filled with glittering lakes, made a mysterious con-
trast to the peaks across the river—peaks softly glowing
and almost yellow in the strange effect of distant moon-
light. There was not a sound to break the weird, gentle
beauty of the scene. It was a crowning effect of that
stern, sublime wilderness, then so calm and peaceful,
overspread by the radiance of the moon. I walked
slowly, and descended on the sheep-trail to camp, where
the fire was breathing its sparks up into the cold, clear
air. Selous had not seen a moose, but at the last moment
had observed a small band of ewes on the mountains near
Clearwater draw and had killed an old ewe of the whitest
color of the sheep in that locality. With great generosity
he later gave the skin and skull to the Biological Survey,

“61 ATANALdAS ,,‘SHdVAOOLOHd IVAAAAS AOOL J,,

LOOKING FOR RAMS 133

where it could be compared with their numerous speci-
mens.

September 22.—Our men had reported ice running in
the river. This made an immediate departure necessary,
since continued cold might increase it to such an extent
that it would block and freeze, thus closing navigation.
The next day—the last one in camp—was slightly warmer.
Selous remained there all day. We had hunted all the
available ranges except a small one on the extreme north-
east side of the draw, and, after tramping to its foot, I
began to climb. The tracks of a ewe and lamb passed
along the crest, and several fresh moose-trails crossed it.
I went to the north end where it almost overhung the
river. There I took some photographs and placed my
compass on a rock for the purpose of studying the topog-
raphy of the river. When I started back I forgot it, and
I hope it is still there, pointing thirty-five degrees east of
north toward the most beautiful and impressive range of
white-capped domes, peaks, and crests, in all that locality.

Descending to the draw, I called for moose, but there
was no response and I returned, walking through woods
and meadows by moonlight. ‘That night tramp was made
sadly and regretfully, knowing it was my last in those
high mountains, endeared to me in spite of rain, storms,
snow, and disappointments. Love of the wilderness per-
sists and drowns all feelings resulting from bad luck.
Large rams had not been found. At that time they
were feeding on the ranges nearer the South Fork, as I
learned the following year from one who had hunted
there and found the band.

134. THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

The men had again been down to the river with an-
other load. ‘The thermometer went up during the night
to ten degrees above, as we slept for the last time in that
little shelter-camp, nestled in the woods and facing the
broad meadows and bold ranges beyond.

September 23.—The next morning our packs were
made up, and we staggered down the steep side of a
ridge to the flats below and crossed directly to the river,
reaching it by the middle of the afternoon. While
descending, we had seen signs of black bears, where they
had been feeding on dwarf juniper berries. After lunch,
the men went three miles down river to the cache for the
purpose of bringing up a canoe, and I went about two
miles up river and called for awhile, but no moose ap-
peared. Returning, I found Selous cooking at the fire,
and shortly after our men returned, poling the canoe.
After all our material was moved into a heavy spruce
wood nearby, a large fire was started, the light of which
danced about the trees and caused the red squirrels to
chatter.

September 24.—By morning the thermometer had
gone up to thirty-two degrees. It was raining and, except
for a few moments in the afternoon, continued to rain all
day. I started down river, intending to go to two fairly
large lakes some distance below the cache, to call for
moose. Soon I reached a beautiful beaver dam five feet
high, which lifted the waters of a small stream into a lake
of several acres, surrounded by spruce woods. Shortly
after crossing it, I came to a trapper’s cabin, made by
Bob Riddell, who intended to trap for martens in that

LOOKING FOR RAMS 125

locality the coming winter. Trappers had been all along
the lower MacMillan River for two years and besides
Riddell, there was one still farther up at Cache Creek.
Riddell’s main cabin was at Husky Dog Creek, and he
had then gone over on the South Fork to hunt with Mr.
Cameron and the others.

Proceeding along his blazed trail I struck off across
the flats and reached the lake about five in the afternoon.
Scarcely any fresh moose tracks were observed in the
lower country, and none about the lakes. I called until
dark and then went directly to the river, striking it, unfor-
tunately, three miles below the cache. There was a
driving rain and it was a discouraging tramp through the
dark woods, pushing my way through alders, swamps,
and tangled underbrush. The smouldering camp-fire was
a welcome sight, and after a change of clothing and
some needed food, I slept while the rain dripped through
the shelter.

CHAPTER: Ix

DOWN THE NORTH FORK. PLATEAU MOUNTAIN.
1904

September 25.—As it required some time to gather all
our effects and load the canoes, we did not start until
2.30 in the afternoon. It was then warm and clear.
The river had fallen since we had come up; many of the
rifles were doubtful of passage, and the canoes, as they
were swept along in the current, kept scraping the bottom.
But all the hard work of towing them up was more than
compensated for by the pleasure of going down. Assisted
by the paddles, guiding the canoes through dancing
rifles, we went swiftly careering through the wild tim-
bered valleys, the mountain panorama unfolding itself
at every curve. Shortly before dark we reached the
place where we had camped September third, and imme-
diately after landing I took the birch horn and, going
about three hundred yards from the bank, gave a few
calls. I was in a swampy thicket of willows, alders, and
dwarf birch, sparingly dotted with spruces and broken by
open spaces of a few square yards. Ina short time, after
hearing the chopping and the whistling and talking of
the men, while dense clouds of smoke from the newly
made fire were floating down the valley, I concluded that

no moose would dare to approach within a mile of the
136

PLATEAU MOUNTAIN 137

place, and returned to camp. Louis was on the bank
repairing Selous’ canoe—an old one which had kept leak-
ing all the afternoon—when he ran to the shelter, saying
that he heard a bull moose approaching. Taking a horn
and beckoning to me to follow, he quickly walked along
the bar, with Selous and myself trailing close behind him.
We stepped into the thick brush and paused to listen.
Yes, the well-known grunt of a bull moose was clearly
audible not more than three or four hundred yards away,
and sounding an approach in our direction. We crept
forward as silently as possible, stopping as the bull, paus-
ing to listen, ceased grunting, and going forward again
when he resumed.

Intercepting the line of the bull’s approach, and reach-
ing a spot where the brush ahead was less dense, we
stooped close behind a log, and Louis, after giving a low
call, rubbed the horn up and down on the willow brush,
thus producing a noise similar to that made by a moose
rubbing his horns. Directly toward us came the eager
grunting, ceasing now and then as the bull stopped to
listen, until at last it sounded very close. Not a stick
cracked, nor was there the slightest noise from horns
striking the trees and brush, or from footsteps. It was
almost dark, and except for some faint light in the small
open space in front, the thicket appeared perfectly black.
How was it possible for that large, bulky animal to con-
tinue his mysterious approach so swiftly and silently on
swampy ground, through a dense thicket of tangled
brush and fallen logs, without making an audible sound
except that of grunting? As it sounded almost upon us,

138 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

we saw a large bull suddenly appear, looming out of the
darkness like a giant spectre, not more than seventy-five
feet away, his antlers looking big, broad, and very white
against the dark background. With rifle pointed, I rose
and could just see the ivory sight which was held in a
line with the centre of the bull’s chest when I pulled the
trigger. Click! A miss-fire, and almost simultaneously
Selous’ smothered expression of disappointment! The
bull had stopped as I rose, and when the trigger fell, he
jumped to one side and disappeared in the brush. I
sent three shots after him, but could only guess the direc-
tion as he was not in sight. After the first jump there was
a crashing in the willows—and then not another sound
was heard. The grunting ceased; he had glided off
more mysteriously and silently than he had come. Thus
was lost my only opportunity to get a bull moose, and
one with horns which seemed larger, perhaps, than they
really were, though they still grow in the memory-image
of that short glimpse. Later, I learned that the caps in
some of my cartridges, then four years old, had deterio-
rated and were apt, especially in cold weather, to miss
fire.

The night was clear and fairly cold, the thermometer
registering twenty-three degrees above zero, and we soon
went to sleep. I was suddenly aroused by a trembling
hand on my shoulder as Coghlan whispered that a moose
had crossed the river and was heading directly toward the
camp. Taking my rifle, with nothing on but under-
clothes, I quickly followed Louis through the woods as
Selous had done on the night of September 3d. We

PLATEAU MOUNTAIN 139

reached the bank just after the moose had recrossed to
the other side and gone in the woods. Louis tried to
coax the bull in sight with the horn, but in vain. It
appeared that about an hour and a half before that time,
when Selous and I were sleeping, Louis had stepped out
to the river bank and had given a few calls for amuse-
ment before he retired. The bull had evidently heard
the sound from a long distance and had gradually ap-
proached and crossed the river. His tracks on the bar,
which were seen the next morning, showed that he had
come to within fifty feet of our camp.

September 26.—Before daylight I went out and called
again, but without result. We did not start until an
hour before noon, and reached the Forks early in the
afternoon. I had carefully deducted all time for stops,
and found that the actual time consumed in running
down river from the cache to the Forks was six hours.
It had required six days with interruptions to drag the
canoes up the same distance. Not long before arriving
at the Forks, we met Jack Barr and Crosby, trappers who
had passed the preceding winter trapping in that locality.
They were on their way to Barr Creek with the purpose
of bringing provisions to their cabin. They had spent
some time with Rungius and Osgood in the Russell
Mountains, where they had a “line” cabin. Both were
fine types of the woodsmen who trap in the northern
country, and though efficient in killing moose for a supply
of meat they were not much interested in game. They
had trapped at the foot of the mountains which we had
hunted, but did not even know that sheep lived on them;

140 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

in fact, they had told Rungius and Osgood that we would
not find sheep.

Mr. Cameron and the others who had gone up the
South Fork had returned a few days before and left a
note, informing us that they had found caribou in abun-
dance and killed ten good bulls; two bears, a lynx, and
three small sheep—the only ones seen. Judge Dugas had
killed a small moose shortly after starting up the South
Fork. Later, we learned that he had also killed a bull
caribou farther down on the bank of the MacMillan River.

We went on down to Russell Creek, where a note from
Rungius and Osgood advised us that they had gone
down river. We kept on until later when a slough was
entered and camp was made in a pouring rain. Selous
had remained behind with Louis to call, and I went up
to the end of the slough and called until dark without
result. I was greatly interested to see a beaver swim-
ming near me with a large stick held by one end in
its mouth. Reaching its house, the stick was skilfully
worked into it under the water. All along we had seen
beavers, sometimes swimming, sometimes sitting on logs,
and twice I saw them sliding down the bank into the
water.

Just after dark when Selous, who had failed to lure a
bull, had returned, Dougherty, one of the men who had
been on the Emma Nott and had landed near this place,
came into camp and said that he and Horn had their
camp half a mile down river. During the time they had
been there, a small bull moose and two cows had been
killed, but very few had been seen. They could not hunt

PLATEAU MOUNTAIN 141

far from the river because they had to kill game near
enough to bring it to a raft which they had constructed for
the purpose of holding the meat and floating it to Dawson.

September 27.—Early in the morning, while it still
continued to rain, I went out to call before breakfast,
but unsuccessfully. The rain continued all day. After
the swift current of the North Fork, that of the main
river seemed very tame, but to float with it was fascinating
just the same. The canoes glided along easily, as we
continually watched ahead eagerly, anticipating a sight of
game when rounding the curves, each of which brought
a new stretch of the river intoview. In the middle of the
afternoon, Coghlan saw a calf moose trotting on a bar
and called our attention to it. I landed shortly after it
went into the woods, and going around in a circle to get a
favorable wind, advanced in its direction. Selous entered
the woods a short distance below. Before going far I
heard sticks cracking and sounds that indicated the
mother and calf were trotting away, hence I returned to
the canoe and proceeded down river. Louis, who was
alone, went into the woods, as he told me afterwards, and
saw the bull running about the cow and playing with
her, while the calf stood at one side. Selous was in an-
other direction, and the animals had run off before he
returned. Had I known better the habits of the moose
at that season, the bull might have been killed.

Shortly after, as we were gliding around a sharp curve,
looking back, I saw a black bear emerge from the alders
and walk toward the bank of the river. The boat was
quickly turned toward shore, but it was too late, the strong

142. THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

current having swept us around the curve into an un-
favorable wind, and before I could step out of the canoe,
the bear threw up its head, sniffed once or twice, then
turned and ran into the woods.

About dark, I arrived at an abandoned trapper’s cabin
on the river bank opposite Plateau Mountain, and found
Rungius and Osgood installed in it. Selous came soon
after, and that evening, while the rain beat down outside,
there was a delightful reunion. They had hunted in the
Russell Mountains, and Rungius had killed a bull moose
with fine antlers, two cow caribou, a small female grizzly,
a black bear, and a wolverine. The last three had been
shot while feeding on the carcasses of his moose and cari-
bou. Osgood had devoted his time mostly to trapping
small mammals (which were very scarce) and in trying to
find sheep. They had not found sheep, and very few of
their tracks had been seen in the Russell Mountains.
Osgood had killed both a bull and a cow moose near the
bank of the river a short distance above that cabin.
While floating down the river, they had seen four bears,
and the day before two had appeared on the bar opposite
the cabin, but had run off in the woods before Osgood
could get a shot. Both had hunted on Plateau Mountain,
where Rungius had killed an old bull caribou with fine
horns, and Osgood a smaller bull. Since they thought
that other caribou were about there, Selous and I decided
to go up and hunt for them.

September 28.—It rained so hard the next day that all
of us stayed about the cabin in the morning. In the after-
noon I crossed the river in a canoe and tramped about the

Photograph by Gage

CARL RUNGIUS AND HIS BIG MOOSE.

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See re ee, :
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ray ra Sox 5

PLATEAU MOUNTAIN 143

timbered ridges. Nothing but old moose tracks were
seen; and a few grouse, hawks, and rabbits. The latter
were then beginning to turn white. The bird migration
had mostly passed.

September 29.—We passed another congenial evening
in the cabin, and the following morning it was colder and
raining, while snow was falling on the mountains above.
My recording thermometer had been broken the night
before and I was unable to record any more tempera-
tures during the rest of the trip. Osgood and Rungius
started down river for the purpose of establishing a camp
near the Kalzas Mountains, while Selous and I made up
our packs and started to climb the mountain. It was
very steep in places and the walking was heart-breaking,
particularly on the lower slopes where large areas, burnt
over and storm-swept, were full of fallen spruce trees in
tangled masses, surrounded by a dense growth of dwarf
birch. Rabbits were very abundant, and a yellow-haired
porcupine was seen—the only one noticed on our trip.
Red squirrels were everywhere, and the jays joined them
in giving sounds of life.

At 4 P.M., after a tedious climb, we reached a good
place to camp, about half a mile below timber-line, on the
slope of a narrow draw through which a swollen creek
rushed, leaping in cataracts as it descended through icy
gorges to the river below. Everything was covered with
fresh snow, which still continued to fall as we erected
the shelter and started the fire.

September 30.—The temperature fell at least to zero
and the morning dawned bright and clear, but a strong

1444 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

wind blew from the north-west. Selous and Louis climbed
Plateau Mountain, and I started to climb the ranges
to the north-west. The adjoining mountains, separated
from Plateau Mountain by draws, extend in vast rolling
plateaus north-east to the Russell Mountains. They are
about six thousand feet high and covered with dwarf
birch and moss. ‘Two or three miles across the rolling
summits the west slopes descend abruptly in broken
rocks, cliffs, and precipices.

When I reached the top, the wind was so strong that
it was not easy to face it and hence quite impossible to
use my field-glasses. There was a magnificent view of
the MacMillan River below, which appeared like a huge
reptile winding back and forth between the ridges; and
on the other side of it, Dromedary Mountain stood forth
boldly in snowy outlines, a strong contrast to the sombre
timbered area below.

The tracks of a bull moose, which had crossed the
summit, and descended to the timber early that same
morning, were before me, and a short distance farther
on, the fresh tracks of a cow moose and calf, joined by
those of the bull, which had circled back again to meet
them, showed that all of them had been feeding on scrub
willow. Going toward the west, I came upon the tracks
of five mountain sheep and followed them toward the
north for two hours, until, having found a sheltered spot
behind a rock where I could use my field-glasses, I saw
that the trail was visible on the snow for two or three
miles ahead, leading toward the Russell Mountains.
Turning west again, I found fresh tracks of a cow caribou

PLATEAU MOUNTAIN 145

and a calf and followed them until the trail descended into
a basin, when, looking across it, they were observed feed-
ing on the opposite slopes near the summit. The calf
fed quite independently of its mother, who neither looked
up from her feeding nor appeared suspicious of danger,
or paid the least attention to the calf when it strayed to a
distance from her. After circling, I took up the sheep
tracks and again followed them north to a point where
the trail turned to the west. Following it, I crossed
gullies, rocky slopes, basins, and ridges, until I could
see the trail on the snow, two miles ahead. Then I
knew that it was necessary to turn back or I would be
caught on the summit in the dark, a long distance from
camp.

Unfortunately, I had no protection for my ears, which
were frozen several times and rubbed soft again. After
ascending to the east slopes of the moutain, I found abun-
dant fresh moose tracks, all leading to a depression near
the top which was the apex of several willow-filled ravines.
Below was a large draw extending down between two
mountains to the timber. The mountain-slopes on both
sides were covered with willows, and moose tracks were
numerous everywhere among them. There was a fine
view of Moose Lake—a fairly large sheet of water. It
was not frozen and appeared to glisten all over, shining
out of the vast deep forest about it. Its outlet, Moose
Creek, was visible, flowing in a meandering course
through the timber to the MacMillan River. Beyond
the wide forest was a series of high, rugged ranges
bordering the Stewart River.

146. THE WILDERNESS) OF ‘THE UPPER. YUKON

Turning to the left, I climbed to the top and went in
the direction where the cow caribou and her calf had last
been seen earlier in the day. Numerous large flocks of
ptarmigan were flying about, and soon the cow and calf
were seen feeding on the flat top. As the sun was directly
ahead I could not photograph them, even after approach-
ing to within seventy-five yards, before the cow saw me.
To have circled would have brought me in an unfavor-
able wind. ‘The cow looked at me a moment, and, joined
by the calf, trotted twenty-five yards in my direction
and both stood looking at me. I advanced again and
both, moving off a short distance, again stopped and
looked. As I came very close, both turned and trotted
across the top and disappeared around the slope. It was
interesting to observe that the surface where these two
caribou had been feeding was completely covered with
their tracks in all directions, and if the single trail
leading up to the spot had not been clearly visible I should
have been deluded into believing that a whole band had
been feeding there. I crossed over to the edge of a deep
canon which separated the mountain from Plateau Moun-
tain, the precipitous slopes of which were directly op-
posite, rising six or seven hundred feet higher.

High above, near the top, my eyes caught a large,
dark animal moving along the side, and a look through
my field-glasses revealed a bull moose with the right
antler well developed, the left broken entirely off at the
base. An unusual sight it was to see that bull moose
slowly walking, often stopping to look about, just below
the crest of the massive dome-shaped mountain, usurping

PLATEAU MOUNTAIN 147

the territory of sheep, caribou, and the grizzly bear! He
continued to travel until appearing like a black speck in
the glittering snow before he disappeared from sight.

Turning my field-glasses toward the slope across the
cafion, a bull moose suddenly appeared directly opposite
me, lying down a hundred feet above the timber. He
seemed half-buried in the snow, and his chin was resting
on it, while his small horns reached well up above the
body. To the naked eye, in his resting attitude, about
three hundred yards distant, he looked like a large bush,
his horns appearing like the tops of willows and complet-
ing the resemblance. He was resting on an incline so
steep that it was impossible to approach noiselessly from
above, and it would have been equally difficult to ap-
proach through the woods from below without alarming
him. He had chosen a safe spot for undisturbed rest.
Taking my birch horn from my riicksack, I gave a low
call, but he neither moved nor pricked up his ears.
I sounded several more calls, some of them louder,
but not the slightest movement did he make. I waited
for an hour, calling at intervals, very much interested in
watching him, but not once did he show any suspicion of
my presence or pay any attention to the noise made
through the horn, nor was he alert and watchful. He
seemed to sleep until just before dusk, when slowly rising
and pushing his forefeet forward, he almost slid down the
slope to the timber and was not seen again.

Some time after dark I reached camp, a few moments
before Selous came in. After an arduous tramp all over
Plateau Mountain he had not seen fresh tracks of cari-

148 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

bou, but just before reaching camp he had seen a small
bull moose high on the mountain-side, but had not
attempted to kill it. We knew that the caribou, following
their restless habits, had abandoned that locality for awhile
at least, and therefore we decided to make for the river and
go directly to Selkirk without pausing to hunt any more.

October 1.—In the morning we went back to the river
and in the afternoon I went two miles below to call,
while Selous started in an opposite direction. Both of us
were unsuccessful and returned to the cabin. Selous,
however, had shot a little brown crane.

October 2.—We paddled down river all the next day
until dark, when we made camp. It is worth recording
that I saw a ptarmigan on the bank of the river—a most un-
usual thing even in summer, and especially in fall. I have
never before or since seen one so far down in the timber.

October 3.—It was cold, and from that time until we
reached Selkirk, the temperature at night must have been
at least near zero and at times below. The river was full
of slush ice, which somewhat impeded the progress of
the canoes, though it was not solid enough to prevent
them from easily slipping through. Not long after start-
ing, a wolf was seen running along a bar, but it entered
the woods before Selous could get a shot. At the foot
of the Kalzas Mountain we found the camp of Rungius
and Osgood. ‘They had been calling every day without
results. It was clear that the frenzy of the rut had
passed and most of the bulls were then feeding up near
the heads of the draws. After lunching, Selous and I
went on, and the others were to join us below at the cabin

PLATEAU MOUNTAIN 149

near Kalzas Creek. As I was ahead and rounding a
curve, I saw a lynx sitting on the bank of the river. My
bullet struck it in the centre of the back and it ran into
the woods, where I found it a few yards from the bank,
lying down. It died in a few moments, and we took
its skin and skull and proceeded until it was time to camp.

October 4.—In the morning there was a great deal of
hard ice in the river and it impeded our progress. When
the cold season approaches, ice formed on the bottom
floats to the surface in the morning, and this, together
with that discharged by creeks, almost fills the river
during the night, and runs very thickly in the morning.
During the day much of it packs in the sloughs, lodges
on the bars, remains in the still water in favorable places
along the bank, and much of it wears out through fric-
tion. In the afternoon, therefore, the river does not
contain so much ice and navigation is freer. Continued
cold causes the floating pieces to freeze together during
the night, and sooner or later large fields of it coming
down the river, jam in the canons or on the sharp curves,
all freezing together. Unless a thaw comes soon after,
the whole river may thus freeze and navigation is closed
until the following summer.

The ice continued to increase, and in some places we
had difficulty in pushing the canoes through without
breaking them. As it was, Selous’s canoe received a large
hole which could be only temporarily patched, and it
leaked badly all the rest of the day until we reached the
cabin at Kalzas Creek, where we found a trapper, named
Lebell, who had arrived shortly before, intending to pass

150 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

the winter there. Rungius and Osgood appeared later
and we passed the night in the cabin. While floating
down they had seen two lynxes. Bird life in the Mac-
Millan was then almost absent—a few mergansers, a
golden eagle, and the one ptarmigan were all I had seen
while coming down the river.

October 5.—The canoes had been well mended, but
next morning the ice, frozen together in large cakes, was
running so dense that we felt some apprehension about
getting down before the river was blocked. In many
places we could not push through it, but were obliged to
let the canoes drift until an opening could be found where
we could reach channels of clear water. A mile down
from the cabin, near the top of a hill on the right, a fine
black bear was seen feeding on berries, and insisting
that Selous should go after it, we backed our canoes in
the ice on the opposite side as he went ashore. He soon
disappeared in the thick brush on the hillside. But a
moment after, the bear, having caught the wind blowing
toward it from the boats, threw up its head, sniffed the
air, and ran off. It disappeared before Selous could get
close enough to shoot. While approaching, he had seen
it through the brush several times but could not get
an unobstructed line for a shot. Early in the afternoon,
shortly before reaching the Pelly, I saw a lynx walking
on a bar and undershot it three times before it ran into
the woods. After making camp on a bank of the Pelly,
Louis heard a bull moose grunting not far off and Selous
accompanied him into the woods where he tried to coax
it with a horn, but it was not heard again.

SOD Mee 7 gp
as Ba eas

Lae dnealy Sie”

Photograph by W. H. Osgood. By permission of the U. S. Biological Survey.
PLATEAU MOUNTAIN IN AUGUST.

Photograph by Carl Rungius.
MACMILLAN RIVER AND DROMEDARY MOUNTAIN PHOTOGRAPHED FROM THE SLOPE OF
KaAtzas MOUNTAIN.

Photograph by Carl Rungius.
RUNNING THROUGH THE ICE IN MACMILLAN RIVER.

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PLATEAU MOUNTAIN 151

For the next two days we paddled down the Pelly
and late in the evening of October 7 we reached the
Pelly Road House where Rungius, Osgood, and I re-
mained for the night, while Selous went on down to Sel-
kirk. The Pelly was full of ice, particularly above the
canon, through which we had to float with it. A herring-
gull and a cross fox were the only live objects observed
on the Pelly.

We remained at Selkirk until the afternoon of Octo-
ber 9, when the small steamer La France picked us up
and carried us to Whitehorse, where we arrived early on
October 13. Gage had gone back to Dawson; Coghlan
remained at Pelly Road House to pass the winter looking
after the horses used on the stage route between White-
horse and Dawson, while Louis had gone up the Lewes
River to catch dog salmon, which pass the mouth of the
Pelly without entering it, for a supply of food for the
dogs at the Selkirk Police Post. All had been excellent
men, hard-working, efficient, always interested, and will-
ing. When they left Selkirk, we realized that our Mac-
Millan trip had ended.

THE WATSON RIVER COUNTRY

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CHAPTER: XX
THE WATSON RIVER COUNTRY—1904

October 13.—My friend, A. B. Newell, had arranged
for me a trip to mountain ranges along the Watson River.
C. E. Wynn-Johnson, an Englishman who had lived for
several years at Skagway, was in Whitehorse waiting to
accompany me, and Newell intended to join us a day
later. The day was passed in Whitehorse purchasing
provisions, completing preparations, and wandering
about the town.

October 14.—We took the train the next morning, hav-
ing loaded three pack-horses and our provisions on a
freight car. A young man, Burwash by name, had been
employed as packer, and proved to be a willing and effi-
cient assistant. The train stopped at Robinson, a side
track twenty miles from Whitehorse, where the freight
car was switched off. It was with sincere regret that I
bade adieu to Selous. He had been a charming and un-
selfish companion, and his considerate manners and
gentle courtesy had endeared him to every man with
whom he had come in contact. Experienced hunter
that he is, perhaps more so than any other man living,
his enthusiasm for nature and the wild life in the wilder-
ness is as fresh as ever, while his love of natural history

is intense, and his skill as a hunter extraordinary.
155

156 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

Osgood’s tireless energy had given me an insight
into the character and ability of the men Dr. Mer-
riam had gathered on the staff of the Biological Survey.
Not only was Osgood indefatigable in collecting birds
and mammals and hunting big game, but he also
worked until late hours in the night preparing his speci-
mens.

Carl Rungius, a skilful hunter who has spent many
years hunting big game in the Rocky Mountains and
Canada, had used every opportunity to study his art.
He made numerous color sketches of the game country,
besides accurate drawings of the animals. He has since
produced many realistic paintings of moose, caribou,
bears, and sheep, revealing them in their true environ-
ment in Yukon Territory. The train sped on; I saw
Rungius and Osgood waving; we unloaded the horses,
threw on the packs, and started.

The country through which we tramped was fairly
level, but barren, except for scattered clumps of pines
and many small lakes. There were many holes of the
ground-squirrel, tracks of rabbits, and not two miles
from the railroad some very old tracks of moose. In the
lakes, several species of ducks were abundant, and dur-
ing the fall migration one of the lakes provided excellent
shooting. I was interested to notice that the tops of
nearly all the stunted pines had been completely gnawed
off by rabbits, exactly like the willows along the bars of
the rivers. Eight miles distant from the railroad were
some cabins occupied by Bill Schnabel, his wife, and a
miner named Foley. There we unloaded, and Burwash

THE WATSON RIVER COUNTRY 157

started back with an extra horse to bring Newell, who
was to join us the next day.

Bill Schnabel proved to be a very interesting man of
distinct personality. He had been a cowboy in the States
and had come to the Yukon during the early days of the
stampede, having been a packer over the White Pass
trail. He had been one of the first prospectors of the
Atlin district, had travelled along the Yukon River above
and below Dawson, and was then working an old pros-
pect which he had located a few years previously, eight
miles from his cabin.

October 15.—The next day, pending Newell’s arrival,
I went out to investigate the country. I was in a vast
forested area at the foot of massive mountains, the south-
east slopes of which were bare, the tops and opposite
slopes covered with snow. Most of the country had been
burnt over and was covered with poplar, pines, and
spruces, with willows and dwarf birch growing densely.
I tramped all day and saw nothing but a few old moose
tracks and bear diggings. Returning at dark I found that
Newell had arrived, and the following day we packed
the horses and started for the sheep mountains, eight
miles distant, between the Watson and Wheaton Rivers.
Schnabel’s prospect was near there and to it he had cut
an excellent trail on which the horses travelled easily,
through a rolling, timbered country. That all this area
had at one time been covered by a glacier was evident
from the numerous large, circular depressions on the sur-
face, some of which still contained small lakes. To the
east was a high, massive range culminating in Mount

158 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

Gray and extending more than twenty miles to Lake
Bennett. To the west were various mountains and short
ranges, separated by draws and wider valleys, not trend-
ing in any particular direction.

Newell and Johnson left the trail to make a circuit
on a mountain side, and Schnabel and I continued to his
cabin. Immediately after arriving, we went some dis-
tance below and, climbing some low hills, scanned the
mountain-slopes for sheep, but did not see any. The
others were there when we returned, but nobody had seen
any game. ‘The cabin was situated at timber-line, at the
head of a rolling, rocky pasture on the west side of the
valley. In front, about a mile below, was a lake three
miles long and half a mile wide, from the east shore of
which the slopes of Mount Gray inclined upward, well
pastured with grass, though steep, rocky, and furrowed
with gorges, cafons, and ravines. The crest, flanked al-
most continually with cliffs and high precipices, is ser-
ried with peaks and pinnacles, irregular and confused,
presenting a long sawtooth sky-line. East of the cabin
was a V-shaped draw, separating two high, irregular
mountain ranges which lacked trend or continuity in any
direction. Some of the mountains are rough and vary
in height from five to seven thousand feet, others are
dome-shaped and appear like huge, rolling plateaus. To
the south, the mountains continue to Lake Bennett; in
all directions they are massive and high, but present an
appearance of confused groups, rather than well-defined
ranges, like the Rockies east of the Yukon River. The
inspiring grandeur of majestic mountain landscape is

THE WATSON RIVER COUNTRY 159

there, but the undefinable wildness seems lacking as
compared with that of the Rockies.

October 17.—The morning was warm and pleasant
and Newell, having to return to Whitehorse, left early.
Johnson and Foley started up the draw behind camp
while I climbed the mountain to the south. It was cov-
ered with an inch of snow and fox tracks were abundant,
also fresh signs of sheep. It is a high mountain, reach-
ing westward along the Wheaton River and the slopes
are cut into canons and ravines. From the top I could
clearly see Lake Bennett and greatly admired the deep,
broad valley of the Wheaton extending in a westerly course
between massive domed ranges. The aspect of the tim-
bered country below was singularly strange—quite differ-
ent from any I have seen elsewhere in the northern coun-
try. It appeared like a vast forested plain, terraced irreg-
ularly in every direction between great circular, hollow
bowls, each of which contained a pond, the surfaces of
which reflected the rays of the sun in a manner to cause
a shining appearance which spangled the whole lower
country. It showed the results of a retreated glacier, the
surface being diversified by kettle holes, drumlins, eskers,
and kames.

Looking across a canon along the side of the mountain,
a transparent whitish spot on a rock caught my eye.
My glasses revealed a ewe sheep which was soon joined
by another that suddenly jumped up on the same rock.
Higher up near a peak, I saw seven ewes and lambs feed-
ing upward between pauses to look and watch. Turning
the glasses below, I was almost startled to see sixteen

160 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

more ewes and lambs feeding on the grass slope just above
the timber. Pure white in body, most of them had black
tails, though the tails of others were practically white.
To be sure of securing meat as well as a specimen of the
sheep of the district, I decided to shoot one now that
the chance offered and at once planned an approach
downward through a cafion which would lead me near
and opposite to where they were feeding.

It was a difficult descent, and when nearly opposite
the point I climbed the side of the cafion and peeped
over. Surprised to find that the sheep were not in sight,
I concluded that, having entered another cafion farther
over on the slope, they were moving up; consequently I
started diagonally upward on the loose, broken rock,
hoping to intercept them from above. Suddenly I heard
the sound of a big rock falling from high on the
mountain opposite me, and, looking back, I saw Schnabel
sitting among the loose rocks and signalling to me that
the sheep were farther along the slope and higher up.
I realized immediately that they had seen him and were
off to climb the-mountain. Notwithstanding my keen dis-
appointment, I kept on climbing higher, but the sound of
rocks and small boulders falling behind, caused me to
wait until Schnabel, who was scrambling along, joined
me. |
The sheep were then badly frightened, and as he
came up I saw them running four hundred yards distant
high on the mountain, entering among some cliffs on the
other side of the cafon. It was our only chance, and we
both shot as they ran. He rushed ahead and kept firing

THE WATSON RIVER COUNTRY 161

his 30-40 cartridges until his magazine was empty, but
he did not hit one. When his last shot was fired an old
ewe stopped on the edge of the cliff. I told him to stoop
low, and, aiming a little above her, I fired and she fell.
Immediately recovering and gaining her feet, she slowly
walked downward and disappeared along the slope.
Schnabel then went diagonally below while I climbed
above, in order that one of us might get near enough to
shoot her. After going some distance among cafions and
boulders, I heard three shots, and looking below, saw the
ewe running, but she passed out of sight before I could
shoot. Hastening toward her, I soon saw her standing
two hundred yards below, and, as I fired, she fell. Schna-
bel then came around the slope seventy-five yards from
her and she rose. He fired three times, missing. We
both followed her as she walked down the slope and each
fired again, both bullets striking her in the middle of
the body. She continued to walk around the slope and
passed through some very rough places for two hundred
yards before she lay down. As we came up she was in
dying convulsions. My first two bullets had passed
through her stomach. One of Schnabel’s, hitting her in
the hind quarters without breaking a leg, had passed
through the stomach and emerged, tearing a large hole
well forward just behind the lungs. Our last two bul-
lets had torn large holes in the centre of her body and all
the entrails that had not already fallen out, were protrud-
ing. Yet this animal had kept on walking over a rough
surface, crossing cafions, descending and climbing for
half an hour, and did not even fall at the last two shots.

162 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

Such extraordinary vitality is difficult to realize, but
it is not peculiar to mountain sheep. It has been
my experience that most of our other big game animals
have the same vitality as sheep, and exceptional cases like
this are not uncommon when the vitals are not immedi-
ately reached, or the bones disabled.

The skin was soon taken off and the meat cut up and
carried to the foot of the mountain. It was then dark.
Schnabel hung part of it on a tree and I shouldered the
rest. We then staggered and stumbled four miles through
the woods to camp.

Johnson and Foley came in later, after having been
obliged to make a dangerous mountain descent in the
dark. They had emptied their magazines at a band of
fifty sheep running at a distance, and had seen several
others which they were unable to stalk. At that date
rifle sights could not be seen at 5.30 in the afternoon
and not until six in the morning.

October 18.—The next day was windy and it seemed
natural to be again on the tramp to find rams. I climbed
the mountains to the north-west of camp, and dense dwarf
birch rendered the walking very slow and tedious. I no-
ticed a very old moose track and one of caribou. These
animals are more abundant to the westward, but very
scarce in the district where I was. Conies were abundant
high up among the broken rocks and a few marmots were
heard. Rabbits were exceedingly abundant and all were
then white. No fresh sheep tracks were seen, although I
tramped about on the crest and slopes until well into the
afternoon. Golden eagles, ravens, and flocks of ptar-

THE WATSON RIVER COUNTRY 163

migan were as numerous as in the mountains east of the
Yukon River.

As I was descending, I saw across the valley two white
specks on the north-west slope of Mount Gray, and my
glasses revealed two sheep feeding high among the rocks.
They soon lay down, and, it being too late to reach them
before dark, I crossed the valley to determine their sex,
but when I reached the lake there was not enough light
to distinguish them.

The shallow water at the head of the lake was covered
with a thin sheet of ice. Beavers had damned the mouth
of the inlet and the water had backed up to form another
small lake, which also was covered with ice. In the mid-
dle of the latter they had constructed a large house. As
I approached, the ice was cracking and I plainly heard
splashing. Creeping silently to the shore, I saw three
beavers at work on the house. At intervals each would
swim under the ice to the shore and get a stick, which
was held at one end in the teeth and taken under the ice.
Every few feet the beaver would force its head against the
ice, break it, and breathe fora moment. One proceeded
in this way to the house, breaking the ice four times,
another six times, and another seven. Reaching the
house they would drag the stick upon it, and spend ten
minutes in working it into the structure. They would then
return for another stick. When it was too dark to watch
them longer, I silently withdrew and returned to camp.
Johnson had tramped all day without seeing a sheep.

October 19.—Early in the morning I looked across the
lake, to a spur projecting from Mount Gray, and saw two

1644 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

sheep feeding among scattered clumps of willow not far
above timber-line, and opposite our camp. They were
rams—the same two that I had seen the day before. One
was six or seven years old, with fair horns, the other about
three. I reached the lake, intending to cross on a raft
that Schnabel had constructed some time earlier in the
summer. ‘The day was clear and cold, but a strong wind
was blowing, and not being able to manage the raft with
a pole, I had to proceed two miles to the upper end,
where I took off shoes and socks, cut a pole, and breaking
the ice as I waded, finally reached the other side and
immediately began to climb.

The west slopes of Mount Gray are exceedingly steep
and broken, and besides, an inch of dry snow had made
them slippery and very difficult to climb. Finally, I
reached the cliffs and snow cornices bordering the crest,
and proceeded south in the direction where the sheep
had been seen. Crossing two deep, rocky cafions, where
conies were bleating, I reached the edge of a deep, wide
canon and looking beyond saw the two rams lying down
on the top of a turretted pinnacle, about five hundred
yards away. ‘They were facing in my direction and there
was no possible approach except on the crest, which was
inaccessible from that point because of continuous cliffs.
It was very cold, and the wind was so strong that I could
barely keep on the slope. I remained motionless for a
long time until so thoroughly chilled that it was necessary
to retreat and retrace my steps to start my circulation
again. Thus I kept watching and walking for most of
the afternoon, waiting for the rams to move to a spot

THE WATSON RIVER COUNTRY 165

where, after crossing the cafon, I could approach them.
Finally, when it was too late to stalk them, both rose and
stood rigid, looking at the country below. No sight of
animals in the American wilderness is quite so wonderful
and inspiring as the mountain ram standing erect on his
beloved crag and gazing at the wild country below him.
Soon they began to feed indifferently on the very walls of
the pinnacle, and then descended and walked along, pick-
ing at weeds and grass until they wandered a few yards
upward under some cliffs. Darkness was approaching
and I had to act. I purposely aimed four feet above the
larger one, in order to strike the cliffs so that he might
possibly run toward me, and fired. At the sound of the
rifle, both jumped to an alert position and looked down-
ward. Another shot, and the larger ram gave a spring,
and, followed by the smaller one, ran fifty yards along the
slope and over the crest. My plan had failed and I was
disgusted that I had not aimed straight at the ram.

It was dusk when I reached the woods at the lower
end of the lake, and about dark as I neared the brook at
the inlet. When near the bank, I was startled to see a
dark, shadowy object jump into some thick brush not
eight feet from me, but instantly recognizing a lynx, I
fired at it. Advancing two steps, what did I see but the
dim outline of another crouching low on the ground five
feet in front of me, too frightened to expose itself and flee.
Quickly pointing my rifle at it, without even seeing the
sights, I fired and killed it, driving the bullet through the
middle of its body. After skinning it, I proceeded, fol-
lowing a terrace almost overhanging the shore of the lake.

166 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

It was full moonlight. The wind had stopped, the
sky was clear, and the woods were hushed and still. Now
and then a duck quacked; more often a muskrat splashed,
and everywhere I saw the silvery ripples of the water as
they swam about. The border of ice attached to the
shores glittered in the soft light, and the crystal waters
of the lake mysteriously reflected the massive form of
Mount Gray towering among the snow-clad summits,
mystic and imposing under the golden light. All about
through the silent, desolate woods, the hoots of the great-
horned owls sounded; white phantom forms of rabbits
continually flitted about as I slowly advanced.

Reaching camp I found that Johnson and Schnabel
had seen the same band of ewes again, but had been
unable to approach them.

October 20.—While scanning through my glasses the
slopes of Mount Gray the next morning, what was my
surprise to see a small ram feeding low on the slope two
miles to the south! I watched it for an hour as it fed
slowly upward, but no other appeared. I was certain
that he was the smaller of the two which I had stalked
the day before. Without having suspected it, my second
shot must have hit the larger one and he was evidently
dead. I went to the lower end of the lake, climbed the
mountain, found a way over the crest, searched every-
where, but could not find a sign of him, the wind having
filled the tracks with snow. It was dark when I returned
to camp. Johnson had seen nothing.

October 21.—The next day we left, caught the train,
and reached Whitehorse in the evening.

THE WATSON RIVER COUNTRY 167

A few grizzlies and black bears wander about that
section of the Watson River country, but moose and cari-
bou seldom range there. Now, alas! Mining prospects
are being worked, and the sheep are practically exter-
minated. A sight of big game is only to be obtained
twenty or thirty miles farther to the west.

October 24.—I sailed from Skagway on the steamer
Cottage City, and left that wonderful country where I had
passed the summer. The voyage down the coast was
delightful, and continually enlivened by the hosts of gulls
that followed the steamer. The weather was calm, and
apparently as warm as when I had come up in June.

October 29 I landed at Victoria, and immediately
made preparations for a trip after wapiti on the north
end of Vancouver Island.

Hiey

AN) ‘ey Ag vat yaa)

i wl

THE KATZEHIN RIVER
THE PELLY RIVER

‘Lt aNaf ‘agaIOVID) AAVAJN FHL GUVMOL ONIMOO'T

oe

CHAPTER XI
THE KATZEHIN RIVER IN ALASKA—1905

Durine the month of May, in the year 1905, I had
been hunting the big bears on Montague Island, which
stretches across the entrance to Prince William Sound in
Alaska. On my return I had reached Skagway June 3,
with the intention of leaving immediately for the Upper
Pelly River. By previous correspondence I had engaged
accommodations for myself, another man, and our equip-
ment, on the little river steamer Quick which, by the
terms of a contract made with the trading post—Nahanni
House—at the mouth of the Ross River, was scheduled
to leave Selkirk June 10, for the purpose of conveying
a year’s supply of provisions and trading goods to the post.

On my arrival in Skagway, I received a letter from
the captain, informing me that the date of leaving had
been deferred and was uncertain. This led to a corre-
spondence which kept me in uncertainty for more than a
month; and, finally, I was obliged to give up waiting for
the Quick and go to Dawson, to try and make other
arrangements for transportation up the Pelly.

In the meanwhile, I remained in the vicinity of Skag-
way, quite uncertain, not only of the outcome of my con-
tinued efforts to get definite information from the captain

171

172 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

of the Quick, but also of my attempts to arrange else-
where for transportation.

During that anxious period, I made two short trips
for the purpose of fishing for graylings in the lakes and
rivers beyond the summit of White Pass, both with in-
different success; and also a third trip up the Katzehin
River, to find black bears, which were said to be numer-
ous there, and to see the white goats, which are very
abundant in the mountains.

‘fune 14.—My friend C. E. Wynn-Johnson and I
started on this trip by going first to Haines Mission in a
small steamer, which later brought us to the mouth of the
Katzehin, a glacial river entering Lynn Canal sixteen
miles below Skagway. About noon we were landed at
low tide well out on the sand flats, and immediately
began to track our Peterborough canoe up one of the
numerous channels of the river.

The Katzehin River flows from the Meade Glacier
which lies in ranges fifteen miles from the coast. With
a heavy volume of water, it rushes in abrupt descent
through a wide glacial valley, the floor of which has been
smoothed by the swift waters to a rough bar, over which
the river divides into numerous channels, nearly all indis-
tinguishable from the main one.

After working through the flats, which at low tide
cover an area of several square miles, and entering the
main river where it flows in a single channel for half
a mile or more, we were immediately enclosed by high
mountains which surround the valley. Above this, sev-
eral channels were encountered, all flowing to a junction,

THE KATZEHIN RIVER IN ALASKA 173

and each again dividing at intervals in such a way as to
form many large creeks running parallel over the entire
surface of the wide, continuous bar. Then began as
difficult a task of tracking a canoe as I have ever experi-
enced. The water was one continual, swift riffle, and
it required all of our combined strength to pull the boat
against it. We could not select the right channel and
kept hauling on the line until, after having proceeded from
two hundred yards to a quarter of a mile, the water be-
came so shallow that it was necessary to retreat and try
another channel until the right one was found. In this
way we progressed until midnight before camping, and
again all the next day, gaining only ten miles to a point
where the river bends sharply toward the glacier, then
four miles distant. "There we made camp on the bank
of a clear creek, emerging from a cajion, evidently flow-
ing from a lake high up in the mountains and entering
the Katzehin River at the curve. High, rugged moun-
tains with precipitous slopes and sharp, serried crests,
broken into spires and pinnacles, reared up very close
on both sides of us.

The following morning I started north along the slope
of a mountain, while Johnson went in an easterly direc-
tion. Two bands of goats, each numbering fifteen or
twenty, were feeding in a grassy space near the crest above
me, and I watched them more or less all day. Not having
a permit to shoot one out of season, I did not attempt to
go after them. It would have been quite possible to
have stalked them, although that mountain, like all others
of the coast ranges near the Katzehin River, was exceed-

174 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

ingly difficult to surmount because of its steep slopes.
The goats remained near the green pastures all day,
alternately feeding and lying down; but now and then
one would climb a sheer precipice, apparently for no
other reason than sport, and soon return again to the
band. Inno sense were they alert or watchful, like sheep,
and I seldom saw one raise its head to look about.

During the whole day, only one old track of a black
bear was seen, and that was in the bottom of a cafion.
The woods were exceedingly dense, filled with willow,
alder, and devils club. In places, the latter, so thick that
it was impenetrable, formed the most serious obstacle to
progress everywhere on the slopes below timber-line. In
no part of the northern coast country have I seen devils
club so dense.

Johnson, after a long tramp, had seen nothing but
goats. The next day we started for the Meade Glacier,
which loomed up at the head of the valley, seamed, tur-
retted, and spired. It required two and a half hours to
cross the several channels of the river, since we were
obliged to walk back and forth to find fording places, and
the wading through the stiff current was attended with
much danger.

Goats were scattered about high on the mountains to
the east, both singly and in small bands, many of them
feeding on the walls of cliffs, others browsing among the
second growth well down on the slopes. Now and then
one would appear apparently glued to the perpendicular
wall of a peak, which it would slowly climb, and on reach-
ing the top would loom up against the sky-line. Arriving

THE KATZEHIN RIVER IN ALASKA 175

at the glacier, which was practically a mountain of ice, I
climbed up at one side, and, crossing deep crevasses
bridged here and there by narrow walls of ice, climbing
up and down the pinnacles of the irregular surface, trav-
elled two miles back into the ice world, which continues,
perhaps, a hundred miles or more behind the coast range.
Evidences of life were limited to a few old black bear
tracks seen on the bars, and a porcupine observed close
to a channel of the river.

We tramped about the next day without seeing any-
thing but goats, and, June 19, placed our canoe in the
main channel of the river and raced to the mouth in an
hour and a half. The tide was low and we had to wait
until afternoon, when the small steamer came to bring us
back to Skagway. Soon after starting, I saw a most in-
teresting sight. Bald eagles and gulls were very numer-
ous about the flats, and as we were coasting a mile out
from the shore, a gull, hotly pusued by an eagle, flew
rapidly by the steamer. Soon a second eagle joined the
chase, and thena third. For half an hour we watched the
gull trying to escape the death pursuit, until finally it suc-
ceeded. One of the eagles would directly chase it,
the other two at the same time flying in a parallel course,
one on each side, twenty-five yards distant. The middle
eagle with long, sweeping wing-beats, would rapidly gain on
the gull until near enough to swoop, with talons extended
to seize it. But the gull would suddenly dodge by making
a rapid dive or a quick, perpendicular ascent, when
the momentum of the eagle would carry it far beyond.
Then one of the other eagles would quickly swing around

176 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

and resume the chase as the first aggressor was returning
to a flanking position. Again and again an eagle would
gain, swoop, and miss, as the active gull successfully
dodged, until at length when all were approaching the
shore, the eagles gave up the chase and alighted on trees,
while the gull wheeled and disappeared among the other
gulls flying over the flats.

CHAPTER Ai
THE PELLY RIVER—1905

Havinec stopped at both Whitehorse and Selkirk in
the hope of finding a means of transportation up the
Pelly, I arrived in Dawson July 12, where good luck
at last came to me.

It had just been decided to send the steamer Vidette—
the patrol-boat of the North-west Mounted Police—up the
Pelly on an inspection trip, for the purpose of investigat-
ing the condition of the Indians and of gathering as
much information as possible about the trappers and the
country. My friend, Major Zachary Taylor Wood, com-
mander of all the Police in the Yukon Territory, invited
me to go on the Vidette as a guest, and it was to leave
Selkirk July 17. Major Wood, who had been command-
ing officer in the Territory from the days of the first rush
into Dawson, was keenly interested in science and natu-
ral history, and had taken special interest in my trips.
In every way he assisted me, and it is owing to his
courtesy more than anything else, that I was enabled to
carry out the plans for that summer, which had long be-
fore been decided upon.

The next night I boarded the steamer Dawson and
reached Selkirk the morning of July 17, to find the

Vidette already there, under the command of Captain
177

178 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

John Taylor, of the North-west Mounted Police, whom
Major Wood had detailed to make the Pelly River in-
spection. Besides the regular captain, pilot, and crew of
the Vidette, several trappers and prospectors, who had
come down the Pelly early in the summer to get pro-
visions, were there waiting for the boat to start, and
thoroughly happy at the generosity of Major Wood, who
had asked them to join the boat as guests of the govern-
ment, thus saving the long, hard journey which they
would have had if they had been obliged to pole and
track their loaded canoes up the river.

Tom Jeffries, a tall, broad-shouldered French Cana-
dian, whom I had engaged to accompany me for the
summer, was there waiting for me. He had passed his
early life among the lumber camps in Eastern Canada,
and following his vocation had gradually drifted west-
ward until the Klondike rush, when he joined that ex-
cited crowd of gold-seekers. He, like so many others,
had wandered about the Yukon Territory in the hope of
locating a good prospect, until, after repeated failures,
he had taken to trapping for the purpose of getting a
grub-stake in order to again indulge the never-fading
hope of finding gold. Though not a hunter, he was a
thorough woodsman and was reputed to rank among
the best canoemen in the whole country. Also, he had
spent one winter on the banks of the Pelly opposite the
Glenlyon Mountains, where, later in the fall, I intended
to look for sheep. I had obtained a fine Strickland canoe
from the White Pass Railroad, and had purchased the old
horse Danger, one of our pack-horses of the preceding

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THE PELLY RIVER 179

summer. Horse, canoes, and provisions were loaded on
the boat, and at 2.30 in the afternoon we started and were
soon steaming up the Pelly River.

Fuly 17.—The Vidette was a small stern-wheel steamer
of light draft and powerful engines; her captain and pilot
were experienced river navigators and had long been in
the service of the government. ‘Two of the trappers, Van
Gorda and Corning, were returning to their cabins on
the upper Pelly above Hoole Cafion. Another, Rose, had
a cabin on the Pelly, fifty miles below Ross River; and
two other prospectors were about to winter at Hoole
Cafion to prospect the creeks in that vicinity.

How delightful it was to be again steaming up the
Pelly in a comfortable little steamer, under sunny skies,
with interesting companions, and with the anticipation of
exploring new country and studying the sheep!

Two of the trappers had occupied cabins that I had
seen the previous year on the banks of the MacMillan,
and I tried to get from all as much information as possible
about the country and its animals. But the trappers and
even the market hunters of Yukon Territory and Alaska,
with rare exceptions, care little about the habits of ani-
mals and have not cultivated the power of accurate
observation. Though some are good moose hunters, and
understand where to find and how to kill these animals,
they appear to know little about their life history, and
even such observations as they have made are unusually
tinctured with erroneous interpretation. Many of them
agree on the methods of trapping lynxes, martens, and
beavers—the principal animals trapped—but all differ as

18 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

to their habits. I did not, therefore, get much reliable
information about the denizens of the northern wilder-
ness, until, when thirty miles up the river, we picked
up a young English trapper, J. F. Hosfall, with his wife
and four children, who were tracking a long poling boat
loaded with a year’s supplies. They had started for
Kalzas Creek on the MacMillan River, where they in-
tended to pass the winter and trap in the country about
Kalzas Lake. Captain Taylor at once took them aboard
and I first made the acquaintance of Mrs. Hosfall—that
remarkable woman who so appealed to Selous, when he
met her the following year, that he incorporated a short
sketch of her, together with some incidents in her life,
in his book, Recent Hunting Trips in British North
America.

My acquaintance with her was often renewed in after
years, and I have found her the most interesting char-
acter I have known in Alaska or Yukon Territory. Her
father, a sturdy, upright American, was one of the trad-
ers who had settled on the Yukon River in the early
days of the advent of the Alaska Commercial Company;
and, like nearly all of these men, had taken to himself
an Indian woman as companion. Born about twenty-five
years before I met her, of a mother in the tribe of Indians
occupying hunting territory in the vicinity of the Porcu-
pine River, in early youth she had been taken to the
missionary established at Fort McPherson on the Peel
River. During the summers she was trained in reading,
writing, cooking, and domestic work. Fall, winter, and
spring she had joined her mother, and with her had fol-

THE PEELY. RIVER 181

lowed the band of Indians, thus leading the wandering
life of these aboriginal hunters and trappers. She had
even wandered as far as Great Bear Lake, and after mar-
rying Hosfall when she was twenty years of age, she
had accompanied him in his trapping life, having been
three years near the head of the Chandelar River, and
having spent the last two years trapping on the Pelly.
As a tribute to her resourcefulness, Selous has related her
remarkable experience after the burning of her cabin,
which occurred in the spring before I met her. He well
remarks that she has inherited the best traits of both
races. Her graceful figure was lithe and sinewy; her face
was stamped with an exceedingly sweet expression; her
manners were modest and refined; her language flowed
in a soft, sympathetic tone. ‘These traits gave to her per-
sonality an idealistic reality—the only time I have ever
seen it among Indian women—which the romantic Indian
maidens of fiction have often called forth in the imagination.

In all that pertained to hunting, trapping, woodcraft,
and life in the far Northern wilderness, Mrs. Hosfall com-
bined the instincts and knowledge of the Indian with the
capacity of the white man. Supple, strong, and endur-
ing, she could pole or track a boat, handle an axe, build
a cabin, shoot a rifle, hunt, put out traps and nets, as
well as most experienced white men. In addition she
could cook even better than most white women—certainly
very much better with the provisions gleaned from the
woods, and under the conditions in the wilderness. She
was also skilful to a high degree in all the practical work
performed by Indian women—dressing animals, and tan-

182 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

ning their skins, catching and drying fish, making moc-
casins, robes and clothes; and in the execution of their
artistic products of beadwork and porcupine-quill work,
she was as efficient and creative in design as the best of
them. She spoke English perfectly, and also the Indian
language of her race. Her knowledge of animal life,
based on interested observation and experience, was so
accurate that I have never found reasons to doubt her
assertions about it. She was accompanied by four little
daughters, the oldest five years, the youngest born the
preceding winter—healthy, active, bright-eyed little crea-
tures, very pretty, and with the sweetest of dispositions.
They were truly little wild sprites of the wilderness in
which they had been born and bred. The two youngest
were born on the banks of the Pelly, each in midwinter
when the thermometer registered many degrees below zero
and when Mrs. Hosfall was in her cabin entirely alone—
her husband being absent on the trapping line. When
one considers the conditions, and realizes that Mrs. Hos-
fall was obliged, unaided, not only to endure confinement,
but also to keep her fire burning and to cook and care for
the other children at the same time, the fact that she
passed through it all successfully provokes some reflec-
tion on the advantages of leading a natural life. The
highest tribute to the character of Mrs. Hosfall is the
fact that she is not only beloved by all trappers, pro-
spectors, and other white men who have known her, but
she is absolutely respected by them.

The boat steamed ahead and the next morning arrived
at Granite Cafion, where the experienced captain directed

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THE PELLY RIVER 183

her course along the left bank, and soon threw out a rope,
which was pulled by half a dozen men just enough to take
up the slack. This was sufficient to assist her powerful
engine to overcome the resistance and propel the boat
over a short, strong rapid. ‘That was the only assistance
required to navigate the long rapids of the cafion. What
a contrast to my experience on the Emma Knot, when we
were trying to go through the year before! Later in the
morning we reached the mouth of the MacMillan River
where the Hosfalls were left to occupy, for a short time, a
small cabin constructed on the bank of the Pelly, close to a’
big eddy, which was an excellent place to set a net and
obtain a stock of King salmon, which were then begin-
ning to run up the river. After leaving the mouth of
the MacMillan, I entered a region entirely new to me.

The Pelly River, discharging a volume of water
slightly less than that of the Lewes, joins it at Selkirk.
The Yukon River is formed by their junction. In the
summer of 1840, the Hudson Bay Company, having estab-
lished a post at Fort Halkett on the lower Liard River,
commissioned Robert Campbell, one of those doughty
Scotch pioneers in its employ, to explore the North Branch
of the Liard to its source and cross over the divide of
land in search of a river flowing westward. With two
Indians, Lapie and Ketza, and an interpreter, Hoole,
Campbell successfully crossed the divide and discovered
the river, which he named in honor of Sir H. Pelly, a
Governor of the Company.

After floating down a few miles on a raft they re-
turned, and, in 1842, the Hudson Bay Company con-

184 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

structed a trading post, Fort Pelly Banks, thirty-one miles
above Hoole Cafion. In 1843, Campbell, accompanied
by Hoole, two French Canadians and three Indians, left
that place in a canoe and descended to the Lewes River,
which he named after Chief Factor, John Lee Lewes.
In 1848, Campbell established Fort Selkirk at the junc-
tion of the Pelly and Lewes.

In 1849, the post at Pelly Banks was accidently burnt
and in 1850 was abandoned. In that same year, Camp-
bell descended the main Yukon to the mouth of the Por-
cupine, and proved that the Lewes, Pelly, and Yukon
were identical. In 1852, on the 21st of August, Fort Sel-
kirk was pillaged by the Chilkat Indians, and the post
had to be abandoned. Campbell set out in a canoe,
ascended the Pelly, crossed to Lake Frances, descended
the Liard, and arrived at Fort Simpson the 21st of Octo-
ber. After winter set in, he travelled overland to Crow
Wing in Minnesota, arriving there the 13th of March,
and reached London the 18th of April. Such a wonderful
journey, undertaken for the purpose of persuading Sir
George Simpson to re-establish Fort Selkirk, deserved
more recognition than it received, for the directors of
the company decided to abandon the Selkirk trading post
altogether.

As an explorer, Robert Campbell, discoverer of the
Pelly and the Lewes, the true sources of the upper Yukon,
deserves to rank among those mighty men, Hearne, Mac-
Kenzie, Dease, and Simpson. He left no book to ex-
ploit his achievements, but fortunately Dr. George M.
Dawson established communication with him before

THE -PELLY RIVER 185

his death, and thus preserved a precious account of his
career.

In the ’80’s, wandering prospectors were gradually
spreading over the Yukon Territory, and some of them
ascended the Pelly to prospect along its bars.

It was not until 1887, however, when the late Dr.
George M. Dawson, the eminent Canadian geologist, nav-
igated the river from old Pelly Bank Post to the Lewes,
that a survey of the river was made and positive informa-
tion about it was published.

Dr. Dawson and his party ascended the Stikine, pro-
ceeded down the Dease and up the Frances to Frances
Lake, crossed the divide, and after descending the Pelly
to its confluence with the Lewes, ascended the latter
river, and crossing the Chilkoot Pass, arrived at the head
of Lynn Canal September 20.

The results of that exploration were published in a
report of such excellence and accuracy, that to my mind
it is not only a model of what such reports should be,
but has not since been equalled by any of the numerous
publications of explorations issued by the Geological Sur-
veys of either Canada or the United States.

Not only are the topography, geology, climatic con-
ditions, and natural history, treated as fully as the limited
time on such a long journey would permit, but space is
also given to the history of the region and a discussion
of the Indian tribes inhabiting it. The accompanying
maps are complete and accurate.*

In 1892, Warburton Pike ascended the Stikine, win-

*See Appendix.

186 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

tered on the Dease River, and in the spring of 1893 crossed
Frances Lake on the ice, and travelled overland by a
route farther to the south than that followed by Dr. Daw-
son. He discovered the Pelly Lakes and observed the
main tributary of the Pelly, one hundred and forty miles
above the mouth of the Ross, but did not ascend it.
Descending the Yukon to Ikogmut, he crossed to the
Kuskokwim and reaching its delta, canoed around the
coast to Nushagak, where he embarked on a schooner
bound for Unalaska. His delightful book, Through the
Subarctic Forest, in which he narrates his remarkable
journey, mentioning too lightly the dangers, difficulties,
and hardships, will forever remain one of the classics of
north-western travel.

After the rush into the Klondike in 1897, numerous
prospectors and trappers ascended the Pelly and its
tributaries, but all except a few trappers, and now and
then a stray prospector, had abandoned it long before I
made my trip.

The mountain regions bordering it, except here and
there on the outside ranges, had not been penetrated, and
the game animals, particularly the sheep, had practically
not been disturbed.

Of all rivers navigable by canoe in Alaska or the
Yukon Territory, the Pelly is quite the most enchanting.
Its current is swifter than that of the MacMillan. Above
its confluence with the latter, it flows in a meandering
course back and forth in a wide valley, lined on one side
or the other by long, smooth, hard gravel bars, or lofty
escarped banks often castellated into turrets and pillars

THE PELLY RIVER 187

of fantastic shape. Numerous fine groves of tall spruces
are scattered along its banks; tall poplars, growing on
smooth, hard ground, continually fringe its shores.

The valley, varying from three to ten miles in width,
is terraced on both sides, the land rising in a succession of
high benches clothed with aspens and scattered spruces,
and brightened by openings carpeted with green grass,
which give it a happy aspect. Lofty mountain ranges,
whose axes parallel the main course of the Pelly, extend
far beyond the Ross River, and include the Glenlyons,
which almost overhang the right bank of the Pelly.

uly 18.—We steamed up this magnificent river while
the days were clear and the sun was hot. No obstacles
impeded the progress of the skilfully managed boat, which
climbed over every riffle and kept strictly to the main
channel, only stopping for the purpose of cutting a wood
supply or tying to the bank during the dark twilight be-
tween midnight and two in the morning.

‘fuly 19.—Before me was the map made by Dr. Daw-
son, a map so accurate that as we progressed I could
locate not only every island, but every grove of spruce
trees. His description of the country proved to be so cor-
rect that I must again call attention to the accuracy of
his report—a high tribute to that eminent man in whose
death Canada suffered a loss not easily repaired. After
passing the Glenlyons, we were close to the mountains
of the Tay River on the left, until those of the Pelly
range loomed up in the distance.

Bird life at that season was as scarce as usual, and
only a few moose tracks were seen on the bars. The

188 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

beaver cuttings were old—all beavers having long before
been trapped. During the steamboat trip we did not
see an animal of any kind except red squirrels.

Fuly 20.—The following morning we reached Rose’s
cabin and left him there. He had told me there were
sheep in the mountains behind, and I intended to investi-
gate them on my return in the fall.

In the afternoon, shortly after seeing an old Indian and
two boys on the left bank, we came to their camp, where
four families were occupying tents. They were catching
salmon, and numerous fish were hung to dry on poles.
They had an abundant supply of moose meat, and never
have I seen Indians in the north of such healthy and
vigorous appearance. As I took the horse off the boat,
all started to run, and their dogs, which were tied near
the tents, became greatly excited and struggled against their
chains in efforts to attack him. None of the Indians of the
upper Pelly River had ever before seen a horse. Reassured,
they soon came back and Captain Taylor distributed some
presents including cigars, which the squaws promptly be-
gan to smoke, while even the children begged for them.

Soon after leaving the Indian camp, the Pelly ranges
were more distinctly visible, high dome-shaped mountains
fronting the river, and now and then I could see a snow-
capped peak appearing far in the interior. To penetrate
the Pelly Mountains and hunt the sheep was the object
of my trip. In these ranges Indians had their hunting
grounds, principally for moose, since they only kill sheep
on the outer range. Except for an occasional prospector
who had wandered near the outer range, no white man

THE PELLY RIVER 189

had hunted in their depths, and practically nothing was
known about them. For the purpose. of penetrating
them I had brought Danger, but the question of a feasi-
ble route, and the habitat of the sheep, remained to be
solved. I hoped.to get from the Indians sufficient infor-
mation to enable us to reach the outer range, from which
it would be necessary to find a way into the interior
ranges beyond.

The river above was shallow, and once some difficulty
was experienced before overcoming a swift rapid, but the
boat steamed on until midnight, with glorious mountain
vistas on both sides, and starting again after two hours,
approached Nahanni House at eight in the morning, the
steam whistle blowing and colors flying.

Fuly 21.—As the Vidette rounded the curve into Ross
River and made fast, I gazed from the deck at the multi-
tude of Indians—men, women, and children—all as-
sembled on the bank and nervously rushing about. That
tribe of Indians had been less in contact with white men
than any other in the north, and their behavior called to
mind the gatherings at the Hudson Bay trading-posts in
early days. The sight was one to be long remembered.
When the gang-plank was put out I suddenly rode
Danger to the shore and approached the Indians on a
trot, while men, women, and children were fleeing in
all directions and shouting in fright. My progress was
suddenly checked, however, for at once a dozen or more
dogs rushed at the horse, howling and snapping. If the
trappers had not quickly beaten them off, the horse surely
would have been disabled.

190 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

After a short time we decided to make a temporary
camp on the other side of the Pelly River, not only for the
safety of the horse, but to keep our provisions at a dis-
tance from the dogs. The boat brought us across, the
provisions and equipments were unloaded, and the Vidette
departed to ascend the river for the purpose of finding
the limit of steamboat navigation. Captain Taylor, a
charming gentleman, had been a delightful host, the com-
pany had been attractive and interesting, and that steam-
boat trip up the Pelly was the most fascinating one I
have ever taken on the northern rivers.

We soon erected a shelter, cached our provisions, and
while Danger was feeding in the long grass growing
abundantly near the camp, we recrossed the river to the
Indian encampment. With the exception of the Indians
we had seen below on the river, the whole tribe was
there, waiting for the return of Mr. Lewis, owner of
Nahanni House. He had gone to Victoria, and was to
return on the Quick with ammunition, which was entirely
lacking at the Post, and the Indians could not depart to
hunt until they were supplied with it.

The tribe of Pelly Indians, including all its members,
comprised eighty-nine Indians. There is some doubt as
to its exact ethnological status; but none that it should
be included in the group of tribes referred to by the
Hudson Bay Company’s people as Nahanni. It is also
closely allied to that branch of the Nahanni group desig-
nated as Kaska, which includes two cognate tribes oc-
cupying the territory tributary to Dease River east of
McDames Creek, and to the upper Liard River. The

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THE PELLY RIVER 19!

tribe is called by different names by the adjacent tribes,
and Dr. Dawson proposes the name of Es-pat-o-ti-na.
By comparing numerous words of the Pelly Indians with
those in the vocabularies appended to Dr. Dawson’s
report, I found them to correspond very closely, if
not exactly (most of them are the same) with those
of the T1-tsho-ti-na tribe—the western branch of the
Kaska.

Two years before I arrived there, Tom Smith, a
trader, had established the post, which later was pur-
chased by Mr. Lewis, who named it Nahanni House.
Before the establishment of that post, the Indians had
traded through Indians of Liard Post on the Liard River,
and sometimes with the Indians attached to the trad-
ing-post at the mouth of the Big Salmon River on the
Lewes. Missionaries had never been among them, and
their contact with whites after the Pelly Banks Post was
abandoned in 1850, until Nahanni House was established,
was only incidental, as when individuals of the tribe had
met wandering prospectors.

Owing to these facts more than anything else, they
were the healthiest and finest looking Indians I have ever
seen in the interior of the northern country. Most of
the men were fine specimens, and also the women, who
bore children abundantly and reared them in health and
vigor. They were all absolutely honest and lived a prim-
itive Indian life, except that after Nahanni House was
established, they used tents instead of the old brush
shelters. They wore white man’s clothing, and utilized
the other novelties provided by the store. Up to that

192 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

time they had not permitted a single one of their women
to mingle with a white man; the tribe, therefore, was in
that respect the single exception among all the tribes,
both coast and interior, in the whole north country.

Their habits are exactly similar to those of other
northern Indians. Their country has been partitioned,
and sections are allotted to different members of the tribe,
who spend the fall, winter, and spring hunting and trap-
ping until the salmon arrive, when they catch and dry
enough to last them for a short time, until they again
begin to hunt. At that time, they differed from other
Indians in not having acquired the lazy habits usually
characteristic of life near a trading-post, nor had they
been in the least demoralized by whiskey. Neither did
they suffer from some of the habits acquired through well-
meaning, but short-sighted and misdirected missionary
enterprise.

Walking into their camp I soon found one of them
who knew a few words of English, and after several had
gathered about me, we held a conversation. One had
the skin of a sheep, and as he handed it to me his dog
snapped at my leg, and immediately several dogs rushed
at me, while the squaws came running from the tents and
clubbed them away. Indian dogs dislike white men as
much as a white man’s dog hates an Indian. Had I
been alone, those dogs might have killed me, especially if
I had fallen.

As a result of the fragmentary information I could get
from the Indians, I decided to strike across the country
and reach the Lapie River at the point where it emer-

THE PELLY RIVER 193

ges from the mountains, and try to penetrate the more
distant ranges by following up its course.

Later the Vidette returned, having encountered a rapid,
four miles above, which she could not force through.
After spending the evening on her deck we slept under
our shelter until awakened by the whistle announcing her
departure.

CHAPTER XIII
THE PELLY MOUNTAINS—1905

Fuly 22.—The next day was very hot, and after sifting
out provisions for the trip and arranging a pack for
Danger to carry, we spent the rest of the time about
Nahanni House. It consisted of nothing but a small log
cabin used for a store; a small log warehouse, and another
cabin which Lewis occupied. Jim Grew, who had con-
structed a small cabin across the river for head-quarters
while trapping during the winter, had charge of the post
during Lewis’s absence. He was over seventy-five years
old and had served at different Hudson Bay trading posts
all the way from Labrador to the Pacific. Though still
active, he was too old for the hard work necessary for
successful trapping; nevertheless he could not depart from
his old life, and chose to die in the wilderness. His life
was a mere existence, and three years later he was found
dead in a cabin on the MacMillan. Dan McKinnon, his
partner, was occupying Grew’s cabin. Van Bibber, a
stalwart fellow brought up in the mountains of Kentucky,
was there to meet his partner, Van Gorda, and with him
was a young Indian boy from Liard Post. ‘These two
men had wintered in the vicinity of the Pelly Lakes, and

had planned to return there.
194

THE PELLY MOUNTAINS 195

uly 23.—The whole month of July had been exceed-
ingly dry and very hot. The next day was no exception.
Many Indians had come to our camp for the purpose of
seeing the horse, which aroused intense interest among
them. That morning three appeared very early and
watched us throw the pack on Danger. So great was
their astonishment to see him walk off with a pack of two
hundred pounds, that they followed us for three miles
and showed us an Indian trail which led to the Lapie
River, six miles above its mouth.

For the first five miles we travelled slowly, in a north-
ward direction, crossing some heavily timbered ridges,
often pausing to chop trees and brush, until we descended
to a fairly level country sparsely timbered with spruces,
poplars, and willows. After crossing seven miles through
this, we came out upon a high bench rising directly from
the Lapie. Through the valley of the river, which there
emerges from a box cafion, | could see the interior Pelly
ranges and the snowy peaks of the divide. As we were
descending the bench to the river, the familiar chatter of
the ground-squirrel greeted us. We slept near the brawl-
ing river, under a clear sky, and the noise of the current
brought back many reminiscences of my trip up Coal
Creek.

The Lapie River, so named by Dr. Dawson after one
of the faithful Indian companions of Campbell, who
first discovered it on his initial trip down the Pelly, enters
the Pelly ten miles below the Ross. Its character is
strictly similar to that of Coal Creek, but it carries a
much larger volume of water—so large, in fact, that at

196 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

the stage when I was there in both July and August, there
was not a single fording place anywhere within fifty miles
from its mouth. Through that distance it descends at
the rate of thirty feet to the mile. From its source in the
divide ranges, it flows in a north-east direction; its length
is between eighty and a hundred miles; its width for the
last forty miles, from seventy to a hundred feet, becoming
narrower above.

JFuly 24-26.—For the next three days the travelling
was exactly like that on the upper reaches of Coal Creek,
except that we were obliged to keep on the left bank, for
even if a ford could have been found, it would not have
been practicable to have taken a horse along the other
side, because of continuous ridges sloping precipitously
to the river. When we had travelled about twenty miles,
the high, rough mountains completely engulfed us. The
main divide was not more than twenty or thirty miles far-
ther on in a straight line, and a fine large tributary, flow-
ing from extremely rugged mountains more to the south-
west—perfect sheep ranges—entered the Lapie a short
distance north of the divide. I decided to ascend this
branch to timber-line and make my camp. ‘Timber-line
was twelve miles distant, and nine hundred feet above
that part of the Lapie. Moose tracks had been abundant
along the bars of the river, nearly all going down stream,
but their trails were not so well defined as those on Coal
Creek. Rabbits, ground-squirrels, and red squirrels were
plentiful, bear signs scarce, and bird life almost absent,
except for golden eagles, Alaska jays, ravens, and gos-
hawks. The weather was fair, and there were no mosqui-

THE PELLY MOUNTAINS 197

toes—a most singular fact, which can only be accounted
for by the extreme dryness of the season. I cannot for-
get the last tramp up the branch between lofty slopes
topped by cliffs and jagged crest-lines, the magnificent
mountains close by on both sides fairly hanging over us,
as we climbed around cafions through which the creek
dashed in cascades over precipices and roared through
deep gorges, until we reached the limit of the timber.
There, where two forks join, each flowing from moun-
tain-girdled basins, we made camp in the big spruces
near the bank of the chattering stream.

Among all the spots in which I have ever camped,
that was one of the most enchanting. The hard, dry
ground was cushioned with spruce needles. Some of the
spruces with big, gnarled trunks spread their dark-green
foliage in canopy-tops, ornamented with thick clusters
of hanging cones. Most of them shot up spires, their
pointed tops giving the country that wild desolation so
characteristic of the northern wilderness. Many inclined
at sharp angles over the creek in graceful contrast, pleas-
antly breaking the austere straight lines of the forest, and
producing a bowery effect above the splashing current
as it raced in serpentine course down the valley.

Directly in front was the rolling basin of the South
Fork, surrounded by a jumble of high peaks reared above
snow-striped slopes, all the blending colors of their
rocky surfaces in sharp contrast with the bright green of
the upper reaches of the basin below, while numerous
water-falls, pierced by the sun’s rays, as they dashed down
the slopes, gleamed in different tints.

198 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

The mountains around the basins of the East Fork,
perhaps smoother in outline, were equally high, and even
richer in color.

Behind, almost overhanging the camp, reared up a
long, high, savage range of limestone and granite; its
slopes carved into canons and precipices; its crests ser-
rated in rising and falling outlines, trimmed with radiating
buttresses, spired peaks, and bands of snow, richer in con-
trasting colors than any of the other ranges observed in
the Pelly Mountains.

But these inspiring views were near. Beyond, stretched
a bewildering sea of summits, the more distant ones fading
to the sight and suggesting the mysterious unknown.

The evening light glowed in the sky as we threw the
load off the tired horse and made a fire. Luminous banks
of burning crimson clouds hung over the summits of the
South Fork; the sky in the east was cold and gray, while
the light rays of the sun, then sunken below the nearer
mountains, failed to reach the valley, then overspread
with a deep purple hue, in sombre contrast to the brill-
iantly lighted mountains beyond. We did not attempt to
erect the shelter that night, but slept beneath the spruces.

July 27.—Early in the morning I started off to obtain,
if possible, a supply of meat for camp.

No description of the Pelly Mountains has ever been
written. When Dr. Dawson spoke of them as dome-
shaped granitic masses, smoother to the west, more ser-
rated to the east, covered with a small herbaceous growth,
slopes and peaks extremely uniform, shaped by normal
processes of denudation, he was necessarily judging from

THE PELLY MOUNTAINS 199

the appearance of the outer range as observed from the
Pelly River.

Once inside the outside range, they present an entirely
different appearance, and it becomes clear that the
denudation has not reached such an advanced stage.

The Pelly Mountains may be somewhat loosely defined
as a group extending from the valley of the upper Liard
in a north-west trend of crest outlines to the Orchay
River, where they swing westward toward the Rose River.
A gap of twenty miles of low ridges connects them with
the Glenlyons, which may be considered as an interrup-
ted continuation of the Pellys.

The series of parallel ranges extends through a width
of from thirty to perhaps fifty miles, the peaks rising
above sea-level from five to eight thousand feet.

They were formed by erosion from an uplifted plateau,
and although a general trend can be detected, the ranges
are so intersected by others, equally high, that it may be
more proper to call them a complex, rather than a well-
defined series.

In appearance they are more similar to the Ogilvie
ranges than any other mountain group I have seen in
the north. But in general they are higher, bolder, more
irregular, and rougher; the valleys and cafions are deeper,
the crests hold more snow during the summer, the rivers
draining them are larger in volume.

Timber-line, about 4,500 feet, is higher, and willow
and dwarf-birch grow so much more densely on the lower
slopes that all the mountains are more difficult to climb
than those of the Ogilvies. Nature has carved the Pellys

200 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

in more rugged outlines than those of the Ogilvies, and
has given to them the same rich, contrasting colorations.
It has carved even more beautiful basins among them,
and filled them with the same kind of exquisite crystal
lakes fed by melting snow. ‘The same richly colored flora
carpets the slopes.

I was about to climb among these wonderful moun-
tains, and keeping close to the creek which headed in the
east basin, where numerous graylings lay at the bottom
of the pools, I saw, floating down among the riffles, two
harlequin ducks, those exquisite creatures which adorn
the dancing mountain creeks. The dense willow brush
and dwarf-birches so impeded walking that it required
an hour to go two and a half miles to the head of the
basin. It was hot and sultry and a light haze hung
about the crests. Again I was walking over emerald-
green pastures in an amphitheatre of mountains, with
ground-squirrels running about in all directions, while
above me two golden eagles wheeled in flight.

Beginning to climb a mountain on the west side of the
basin, I was surprised to see a chipmunk picking up some
kind of morsels among the rocks. Soon I was cheered
by reaching a sheep-trail leading up the slope, and, fol-
lowing it, I at length reached the top, 6,900 feet altitude,
according to my barometer.

For the first time the glories of the Pellys were spread
out before me—high, ragged ranges shooting up into the
sky in all directions, the vision lost in a sea of peaks. No
wind, not even a distant sound disturbed the silence.

The western face of the mountain fell in sheer cliffs’

)

‘“THE GLORIES OF THE PELLYS WERE SPREAD OUT BEFORE ME,” JULY 27.

THE PELLY MOUNTAINS 201

for two thousand feet, the whole wall studded with cas-
tellated pillars of rock projecting upward from it; while
below was an exquisite cliff-bound basin containing a
shining lake.

A mile and a.half across the basin was the crest of a
mountain, below which was a cornice of snow covering
about an acre and extending down a steep slope. As
I turned my field-glasses along the crest, a grizzly bear
standing on the sky-line just above the snow, came into
view. The bear, high on the mountain-crest, outlined
against the sky, presented a wonderful picture of wild
life in a stupendous landscape.

It soon jumped over into the snow, walked back and
forth several times, then lay down about thirty feet from
the edge and appeared like a small, black spot. Shortly
I saw, not a hundred yards distant to the right, in line
with the snow, a band of twenty sheep feeding indiffer-
ently, though they had often looked toward the snow at
the time when the bear had been moving. It was too
hazy to clearly distinguish their horns, but I thought
they were rams. Since it would have required many
hours to descend and make the wide circuit necessary to
climb, unseen by them, I did not attempt it, but watched
them.

In half an hour they started single file directly for
the snow, and to my complete astonishment walked up
on it, not twenty feet from the sleeping bear. Eight that
were ahead paused in the snow, apparently looking at the
bear; then all slowly walked on over the snow and dis-
appeared on the other side of the crest. Stranger still,

202 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

as the first sheep came upon the snow, I saw the bear’s
head rise up, until, as they stood still, it went down and
the bear remained asleep long after they had gone over
the crest.

After eating some lunch, I followed the sheep-trail
for some distance along the crest, when I saw on an
Opposite mountain, separated from the one on which I
was walking by a deep, narrow valley, a large band of
sheep feeding well up the side. I counted about eighty
in all, mostly ewes and lambs, with a few small rams.
Descending over the steep, broken rock talus to a ridge,
I walked along it until the sheep were not more than five
hundred yards distant in a straight line across the valley,
and, concealing myself among the rocks, I watched them.
Some were feeding, some lying down. About ten three-
year-old rams kept together, slightly separated from the
rest. A hundred yards above was an old ewe lying on
the slope, keeping an alert watch both up and down. In
half an hour, when another old ewe walked up to her,
she rose and went down to feed among the others, while
the ewe above lay down to replace her as the “sentinel”
to protect the band.

As the “sentinel”?! Never was the posting of guards
better illustrated; and what a positive conclusion one
could have drawn if not especially aroused to continue
watching and observing! Half an hour passed, while the
sheep below were feeding, resting, always alert, and on
the lookout for danger; the lambs were nursing and frisk-
ing. Then the “sentinel” rose, descended, and mingled
with the others, leaving none on guard in her place!

THE PELLY MOUNTAINS 203

Thus entirely unprotected they continued feeding, until
the lengthening shadows warned them of evening, and
they slowly fed upward toward the crest to lie down for
the night. During all the time that I watched them, the
lambs kept playing, chasing each other, butting, and run-
ning back and forth.

I was so close that through my glasses the colors
of all the sheep were clearly discernible, and I carefully
made notes in the small note-book which I carried.
The majority of them were nearly of the same type as
that of some of the Stone sheep killed on the Sheslay
River north of Telegraph Creek on the Stikine, the skins
of which are in the American Museum of Natural His-
tory in New York. From a short distance, the heads
appeared perfectly white, the bodies light gray, interme-
diate in color between typical Ours stone: and the saddle-
backed sheep, so-called Ovis fannini. None had necks
as dark as typical Ours stoner, a few would be classed as
Ovis fannini. Four were almost as white as the light
colored sheep killed on the MacMillan. Several had
lambs strictly resembling their mother in color. Four of
the darkest ewes had white lambs. Three of the whitest
ewes had very dark lambs. One dark ewe had two
lambs, one white, one dark. The saddle-backed ewes had
lambs, singly and in pairs, varying in all shades of color
from whitish to very dark.

I was a long distance from camp and it was not
possible to stalk the sheep without descending on the
other side to the foot of the mountains, so that I could
climb around the other mountain in a course which would

204 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

keep me hidden from their sight. But since many days
might elapse before rams could be found and meat had
to be obtained as quickly as possible, I made the descent
and began a circling ascent of the mountain. After three
hours of slow and tiresome work, I was near the crest
and carefully circled for the purpose of establishing the
position of the sheep. At length, about to come in view
of the place where I hoped to find them, I crawled flat
on my stomach, and lifting my head saw all standing,
banded closely together, about a hundred and fifty yards
opposite me. About to lie down, they were taking one
last look below. A large ewe stood a few feet to the
right, and not caring to fire into the band, I aimed at
her, and, fortunately, hit her in the heart. The whole
band, led by a large ewe, at once dashed wildly along the
slope and disappeared over the steep, almost vertical walls
that flanked the slope slightly beyond. “The ewe had no
milk, and therefore no lamb. Her head was pure white
and the grayish pattern was so subdued that the color
could be compared most closely with the darkest speci-
men I had killed in the Ogilvies.

It was nearly eleven in the night; twilight color had
overspread the landscape; the peaks distant to the west
were still illumined with rosy light caught from the fad-
ing sun. ‘Taking the hind quarters with as much extra
meat as could be carried, I staggered downward to the
foot, kindled a small fire, and made tea, which greatly
refreshed me. I then shouldered the load and more
rapidly went down the sloping pastures of the basin,
until I plunged into the dense brush. It was among the

THE PELLY MOUNTAINS 205

dark hours that I toiled through the willows, and broad
daylight again when I walked into camp at 3.30 in the
morning. But we had a supply of meat; I had once
more been high among the mountains; the sight. of
mountain-sheep and that of a grizzly bear had set glow-
ing my love of the wilderness; I had again heard the
chatter of the squirrel and the whistle of the marmot.

The shelter had been erected, and old Danger was
peacefully lying before it, near the dead fire. Jeffries
jumped up, and almost shouted when he saw the fat
mutton. The fire was soon blazing and nothing less
than as much meat as could be crowded into a big deep
frying-pan satisfied his craving for it.

CHAPTER XIV
HUNTING RAMS—1905

Fuly 28.—After a few hours of sleep I was awakened
by the loud clucking of a ptarmigan close to the shelter,
and soon heard the peeping of the scattered chicks, which
were hurriedly gathering about her. Several ground-
squirrels, whose holes were very near the camp, were
running about or sitting up and chattering. Jeffries had
started the fire and prepared another great quantity of
meat, most of which he consumed with the eagerness of
a starving man. During the morning I remained in camp
to arrange everything in order.

After lunch I started for the mountain south-east of
camp, and in two and a half hours succeeded in reaching
the crest. Looking through my field-glasses along the
slopes of the rough mountain behind the camp, I could
see seven sheep which were too distant to make out the
sex. Proceeding along the crest I reached the highest
peak, seven thousand five hundred and fifty feet in alti-
tude. A sheep-trail followed the ridge-roof of the crest,
and a few old tracks of ewes and lambs were there. I
heard one cony, and saw two rock ptarmigan. Mists
bringing light showers of rain, all gathering exclusively
around the mountain on which I stood, continually
floated by and enveloped me, while to the south-west the

206

“TN FRONT OF THEM WERE PILED PRECIPICE UPON PRECIPICE.”’

From a painting by Carl Rungius. [Page 273]

HUNTING RAMS 207

sky was clear, and I reached the head of the basin just
as the sun was sinking.

Massed around the basin were gothic-spired ranges
whose peaks fell in vertical cliffs many hundreds of feet
to the steeply inclined talus which led to the soft, green
pastures below. ‘The serried crests, marbled with snow,
burning with red, iron-stained rock, glowing with granites,
caught the sunlight and were bathed in a rosy hue, while
numerous little rainbows, formed in the spray of the
small cataracts that dashed over the precipices, reflected
their brilliant colors in contrast to the dark rocks and
shadowed area below.

I had gone several miles and had not seen a sheep
since my field-glasses had revealed those on the mountain
behind camp. Descending to the upper reaches of the
basin, which contained several small lakes, I started down
the creek toward camp. In forcing my way through the
dripping willows which covered a valley a mile or more
wide, I found many shed horns of moose. The valleys
in the Pelly Mountains are filled with willows, all of
which had been cropped by moose, a fact indicating that
later in the fall and early winter when they come up from
the lowlands to browse in the higher country the whole
region is a magnificent moose range.

While passing through these willows, I flushed at
least ten broods of ptarmigan, and saw several harlequin
ducks floating with the current of the creek. I was
thoroughly soaked before reaching camp at midnight,
when Jeffries was aroused from sleep and given another
chance to eat a large quantity of meat.

208 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

Fuly 29.—Early in the morning I climbed a little knoll
near-by and through my field-glasses, scanned the range
behind. Two miles to the north-west, near the top of the
smoother portion of a high spur which projected out from
the slope, I saw twelve sheep, and more careful inspection
revealed their spiral horns. Rams found so quickly!
Hastening a mile down the creek to a point where a good
view of the spur could be obtained, I seated myself to
make a study of the situation. The spur, a high butte
with two cone-shaped peaks rearing up from its grassy sur-
face, was connected with the mountain by a knife-blade
ridge rising almost vertically to a group of crags a few feet
below the dominating peak—the highest in the vicinity.

Three of the rams were feeding near a fourth, which
was lying down in front of the outside peak; three others
were lying on the saddle between the peaks, two of them
facing in opposite directions; five more feeding near them
on the face of the spur, and one was lying down half-way
up on the inside peak. There was no method of approach
except in plain sight of the rams, and I waited for two or
three hours in the hope that they would move to a posi-
tion favorable for a stalk. Among them I noticed only
three rams with large horns. They passed the time in-
differently, feeding and resting, and though moving lazily,
each kept constantly looking about—never neglecting the
habit of alert watchfulness. No sentinel was posted at
any time.

While I was waiting, a mile to the right along the
slope appeared two rams travelling rapidly, now walking,
now running, in the direction of the band. By observing

HUNTING RAMS 209

their horns, I judged one to be five years old, the other,
two or three. At first I thought they were detached
members of the band hurrying back to joinit. But reach-
ing the spur they caught sight of the sheep above, ap-
proached cautiously to within a hundred yards and
stopped, as all the rams jumped up and watched them.
Several times they circled about the band without ap-
proaching nearer, while the rams in the band appeared
to assume a threatening attitude. Finally they passed
the band without attempting to enter it, and disappeared
around the slope.

Repeated observations of the habits of sheep in later
years gives me a clue to the actions of these two rams.
They were members of another band of rams living in
another part of the ranges, and having been separated
by fright, or for some other reason, were probably trying
to regain their own band, composed of members with
which they had been born and reared. Bands of sheep
have a strong tendency to exclude foreign members, and
it is only after a single sheep or two have hovered about
another band for days, sometimes even for weeks, that
its members relax and admit the outsiders on terms of
intimacy.

Once a hen ptarmigan came through the dwarf-birch
within three feet of me, while her chicks surrounded me
as I sat motionless, until the mother, becoming suspicious,
began to cluck, when all the chicks ran to her and she
withdrew into the bush. The curiosity of the ground-
squirrels was aroused, for several came almost to my feet,
and after sitting up and chattering at me, quickly scam-

210 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

pered away. Several Alaska jays flew about me and sat
in the trees near-by, evidently waiting for some of the spoils
that human beings usually provide for them.

At two in the afternoon, all the sheep slowly fed over
the top of the spur and were lost to sight. At once I
began to follow the plan worked out while waiting, and
started to make the ascent of a high promontory pro-
truding from a mountain opposite the spur and separated
from it by a deep cafion, the head of which I might be
able to climb around, and, if possible, cross the face of
the spur and stalk the sheep if they should be feeding
on the other side. In an hour I had ascended far
enough to see that the ground at the head of the canon
was too precipitous to traverse. The only alternative
was to find a way to the bottom of the cafion and ascend
the slope of the spur to the two peaks. ‘This involved
great risk of frightening the sheep, for if they should be
feeding on the other side near the top, now and then,
according to their habits, one or another would probably
come back to inspect the opposite side, in which case |
would surely be observed. But knowing that the next
day they might be far away, I decided to take the chance,
and after much difficulty reached the bottom of the cafion
and climbed up a notch in the opposite wall to some
willows through which, in half an hour, I had fought my
way, reaching a smooth, grassy slope that led steeply
upward between the peaks. No sheep had re-appeared
above, so I began to ascend slowly and cautiously, know-
ing that at any moment a ram might suddenly appear
on the summit and see me if I was moving.

HUNTING RAMS 211

Step by step I advanced, keeping as low as convenient,
stopping every few feet and lying flat, always intently
watching the crest above. My caution was increased
as I came within rifle-shot of the top, and with rifle
cocked, ready to fire at any ram that might appear, I
finally reached a point within a few feet of the crest.
There I rested a few moments to get my breath and
steady my nerves. Then, creeping forward over the top,
I slowly raised my head and looked over. Not a ram
was visible. A succession of rocky walls, broken and
rugged, jutting out in a curve from the spur, obstructed
the view toward the mountain. Retiring from the sky-
line, I went a short distance around the outside cone and,
creeping forward, again looked over. I could then see
the whole area below, but no rams were there. The slope
fell to a creek, on the opposite side of which sheer cliffs
rose up to the rocky débris covering the side of the moun-
tain. I knew that the rams had ascended and were some-
where near the higher crest above.

But one resource was left, and that was to climb the
rim of the spur to the highest peak of the mountain.
From there it would not be difficult to clamber along the
crest and possibly find the rams in a place favorable for
stalking.

That ascent of fifteen hundred feet I shall never for-
get. The connecting roof-ridge was so narrow that for
most of the distance it was not more than a foot or two
wide. The view in the direction of the sheep was cut
off by projecting crags. On either side sheer precipices
or confused vertical masses of sculptured rock fell several

212 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

hundred feet to the inclined surface below. The knife-
edge, however, had been carved by the elements—
eroded just enough so that small, sharp projections of
rock, like an irregular series of teeth, protruded and
provided a foothold. Slinging my rifle over my back
and holding on the sharp nodules of rock above I toiled
upward on this rough ladder-like precipitous path. I
had started at four, and it was six p. mM. when I reached
the base of the pyramidal peak which rose fifty feet
above the crest-line. The altitude was seven thousand
eight hundred feet—more than five thousand feet above
camp.

There I rested for a few moments. Not a sound
reached my ears except the tinkling of the rills trickling
down from the snow. A stupendous mountain panorama
surrounded me. When my breath was regained, and
the excitement, owing to the danger of the climb was
subdued, I started to creep along the narrow rocky crest
which, twenty feet farther on, was so abruptly broken
that I could not see beyond. After going ten feet on my
knees, I saw a pair of horns perfectly motionless, a hun-
dred and fifty yards ahead and slightly below. Nothing
more, but I knew that a ram was below them. Stretch-
ing on my stomach, foot by foot I crawled ten feet to
the edge of the break, where I was thoroughly concealed
by a crag rising three feet above the surface and falling
perpendicularly to the crest below. Carefully moving
my head to the side of the rock, I looked down. There
were the twelve rams a hundred yards away, all lying
down without any suspicion of the enemy who now had

HUNTING RAMS 213

them at his mercy. All were facing in the same direc-
tion, looking down the slope up which they had ascended.
Below, at the bottom of the valley, was the winding
creek, gleaming through the dark green of the spruces.
In front of them were piled precipice upon precipice.
They were at the edge of a brink which behind them fell
fifty feet to a desolate basin of shattered rock filled with
boulders and surrounded with turreted cliffs and craggy
buttresses.

Their mixed colors were those common to the sheep
of the region, the dark ones predominating; their heads,
with the exception of three, were white. Each main-
tained an alert watch both in front and along the crest
opposite to me. They kept jerking their heads to fasten
their piercing gaze in those directions only; no danger
could come from behind without their hearing it; the
peak was in my direction, where they evidently felt safe
from approach. I was facing the sun and could not
take a photograph. Only three of the rams had large
horns, the rest varying in age from five to three years.

Lying on my stomach and resting my rifle along my
arm on the side of the rock, I fired at the ram which
appeared to have the largest horns. At the crack of the
rifle all jumped up and for a moment stood in wild con-
fusion. The bullet had apparently gone true, for the
ram simply stiffened out without rising and died. But
another of the rams with large horns was holding his
head in the air, his lower jaw falling loosely and bleeding.
He suddenly dashed over the precipice, followed by the
third with large horns, and by two small rams. Some-

214 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

how reaching the foot, they again came in sight and
dashed across the broken rock under some cliffs by my
right, where they were lost to sight. Not hearing any
more sounds of their running and knowing that they
were standing, I remained perfectly still. The rest con-
tinued to stand and look, jerking their heads in all direc-
tions except toward me. None had even suspected the
direction of the shot.

I watched the cliff for about three minutes, until a
ram with large horns suddenly appeared, running down
the slope. When a hundred yards distant, he stopped,
long enough to receive a bullet in his heart. Then I
heard a clatter of hoofs on the cliff, and saw the ram with
the broken jaw leap on the top and stand on the sky-
line looking in the direction of the last ram I had killed.
As I shot, he fell over the wall of the cliff and caught in
a rift near the foot, where he remained doubled up and
almost suspended. The other three had descended to
the band, which, having run for a few hundred yards, had
scattered and stood looking, not even then having located
the direction of the shots.

Sitting on the rock, I rested and smoked my pipe.
Three hard-earned trophies were before me. Under such
circumstances, among mountain-crests, when the pulse
bounds and the whole being is exhilarated by the intensely
vitalizing air, while the senses, stimulated by the vigorous
exercise of a dangerous climb and the sustained excite-
ment of the stalk, are attuned to the highest pitch of
appreciation of the Alpine panorama, there is no state of
exaltation more sublime than that immediately following

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HUNTING RAMS 215

the climax of a day’s successful hunt for the noble moun-
tain ram.

A heavy wind suddenly swept by and dark threaten-
ing clouds began to gather directly above me. Hastening
down the ledge, I found a niche in the side of a splin-
tered wall which fell sheer a thousand feet to the ragged
surface of the slope below. By edging along on a pro-
truding shelf of rock I reached it and comfortably stowed
myself under its protection, facing the rough-hewn peaks
of the western ranges fading in the far horizon, while
the sun, about to sink behind them, appeared like a big,
crimson globe.

The clouds above grew black, lightning flashed along
the crest, peals of thunder reverberated among the high-
walled precipices, and after a heavy rain, great balls of
hail half an inch in diameter fell in myriads, rattling and
bounding among the rocks, rolling down the precipitous
slopes, lodging in crevices and on projecting rocks, and
speckling white the broken surface of the mountain.
The storm was local and directly overhead. ‘The sky to
the west was clear. Through a canopy of darkness could
be seen the shadowed valley of the Lapie, in strong con-
trast with the rugged snow-striped ranges beyond, whose
snowy peaks, rising under a clear sky and gilded by the
sun, were rosy gold set in delicate, floating clouds of pink.

Nature concentrated all her wrath in a short space of
time. After the hail, the clouds broke away, leaving a
steel-gray sky overhead.

I quickly photographed the first ram, and finding a
route down the precipice, photographed the others and

216 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

then took the entire skin of the second. This was much
whiter than the others—whiter than the type of Ours
fannini. Both the others were darker and approached
more closely the type of Ours stoner. The neck of the
light one was pure white, those of the others were so full
of dark hairs as to have a more grayish appearance.

Before the skin was off the rain began again. Stowing
both the skin and the head in my riicksack and ascending
to the crest, I struggled down the slope and reached camp
late at night.

Ffuly 30.—Early in the morning, while I was preparing
the head and fleshing the skin, Jefferies looked back on
the mountain-side and saw two sheep. Through my
field-glasses, I saw that they were the same two young
rams which had passed in the opposite direction the day
before. They had not found their band, and were slowly
returning along the same slope.

After hanging the skin, we drank some tea and set
out for the dead rams, toiling slowly up the slope I had
descended the night before. Old bear diggings were
everywhere, but the bear which had been seen on the
snow-bank was the only one observed in the Pelly Moun-
tains. Looking up we saw two golden eagles circling in
the air above the carcasses.

Reaching the dead rams we learned the cause of the
shattering of the lower jaw of the last ram killed the day
before—a fact that had puzzled me. When I fired the
first shot, the three large rams were lying close together,
and the sun, shining directly in my eyes, had so confused
my vision that, in aiming at the shoulder of the first ram,

“THE RAM SIMPLY STIFFENED OUT WITHOUT RISING AND DIED,” JULY 29.

“NICHE IN THE SIDE OF A SPLINTERED WALL,” JULY 29.

a
Cy
age.

HUNTING RAMS 217

I had not perceived that the muzzle of another ram inter-
vened. ‘The bullet, passing through the lower jaw, had
split in nine fragments, all of which penetrated the
shoulder region of the ram at which I was aiming. Three
of the pieces had passed through the heart and lungs,
tearing large holes, and were lodged under the skin on
the other side. At some time during its life that ram
had broken a foreleg, and I noticed that it had been
well joined and healed, though a large bunch remained
about the fracture.

It was after seven in the evening when the last skin
was off. Jefferies having tied both skins and heads in a
pack, shouldered them, while I carried the hind quarters
of another. It required three hours to stagger down the
mountains and reach camp.

Fuly 31.—The next day was spent preparing the skins
and skulls and constructing a suitable framework under
the trees, on which they could be hung to dry. The
horns of all were of the narrow type, the widest not spread-
ing over nineteen inches, and in the order killed their ages
were seven, nine, and ten years, respectively. The food
contents of their stomachs were the same as those of all
the sheep I have ever killed in subarctic regions during
the summer—a variety of young, tender weeds, particu-
larly those of Dryas and mountain cranberry, scarcely
any grass, and bits of lichens taken incidentally when
cropping deep for the tender growth.

That day Alaska jays visited our camp for the first
time, and after picking up a few pieces of meat, departed.
During the three weeks we remained there, this was the

218 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

only time when the jays, which were as abundant in that
locality as elsewhere in the north, came about the camp.
I have camped in other places, in both Yukon Territory
and Alaska, where jays did not come to camp, but such
absences are most exceptional. We had set out numbers of
traps for mice, both in the woods and in the higher coun-
try, but not a mouse did we catch during all the time we
were there, nor did I see any fresh signs. It was a season
when nearly all the mice in that locality had disappeared.

In those happy days among the Pelly Mountains, a
shadow was constantly playing over my exuberant spirits
—the thought of the inevitable fate of the good horse
Danger. Gentle, strong, and of good sense, he was
naturally dependent on some kind of companionship.
Far in the wilds, surrounded by woods, where the breezes
often wafted to his delicate nostrils the air tainted with
the odor of animals terrifying to him, he had become
completely dependent on our near presence, except when
he was obliged to stray off to feed. At intervais through
the day he would wander about in search of good grass,
but immediately after satisfying his hunger he would
hasten back to camp, and after standing in the smoke of
the fire to rid himself of flies would lie down in his hol-
low, three feet to the right of the shelter front. Although
he continually begged for bits of bread and sugar, he de-
veloped none of those thieving habits so common among
horses living in that country. Whenever I met him in the
woods, after satisfying himself of my reality, he would
trot up and follow me back to camp. He had become
like an affectionate dog.

i F.

SET
Lipa oes

:
5

‘“‘STANDING IN THE SMOKE OF THE FIRE TO RID HIMSELF OF FLIES.’
THE SHELTER, AUGUST I

’

JEFFERIES UNDER

HUNTING RAMS 219

I was much interested to observe his keen senses of
hearing and smell, which were fully as acute as those of
the wild animals of the woods. When at a distance from
camp he was as alert as any of them. Many times, when
from an elevation I saw him feeding, I would try to
approach unheard, but not even a moose could have
detected me sooner than he did. When in a favorable
wind he always scented me from a long distance, and
Jefferies used to know of my approach to camp wholly
by Danger’s actions long before human ears could hear
any sounds of footsteps. If one loves a horse, there is no
situation where that affection can be so intensely bestowed
as on the single animal far off in the wilderness where it
seeks companionship in its master more dependently than
anywhere else. After the trip, Danger must be shot—
the only alternative was starvation.

August 1.—Very early the next morning I was pushing
through willows on my way to climb the east part of the
mountain behind camp, hoping that other rams might
be found there. No clouds were in the sky, but a haze
hung over the mountains and the wind was strongly
blowing. In that direction a succession of spurs extended
out from the mountains, enclosing large areas where
rams might be feeding. One of the spurs sloped down
to a high dome-shaped ridge, which I ascended nearly
to the top, and keeping below the sky-line went around
the dome to get a look on the other side.

The two stray rams I had seen before were lying down
near the top, about two hundred yards to the left. Crawl-
ing behind some dwarf-birch bushes, I watched them

220 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

through my field-glasses. Both were very light colored.
The wind was blowing directly from me to them and
although I was smoking my pipe, they showed no signs
of alarm. After half an hour they rose and passed over
the top. Then I went forward to photograph them, but
just before arriving on the summit, expecting to see them
at any moment below it, I heard sounds of their running
and saw them fifty yards away rushing up toward the
spur. Ata hundred yards they stopped and gazed at me
and then slowly walked upward, continually pausing to
turn and look, until reaching the sky-line, where they fol-
lowed the crest and were soon lost to sight. Were those
rams frightened by my scent? Itis possible. There was
also no reason why they should not have been frightened
by it long before. The sun was behind me and, standing
my rifle upright on the surface, I went back and noticed
its shadow extending down the slope. I had been care-
less about my shadow, and it is quite possible that they
had been scared by it when I was moving.

I made a long, arduous ascent of the spur and toiled
upward to the crest. Near that end, ice had once carved
the mountain more irregularly than it had toward the
west. The rock had been sculptured in rougher fashion,
the cliffs being all splintered and buttressed by narrow
walls hewn in fantastic shapes, while the jagged crest was
battlemented with imposing pinnacles. After reaching
the crest, I seated myself and scanned the country through
my field-glasses. The next spur to the east projected
from the crest in a narrow, vertically inclined wall extend-
ing five hundred feet to a short, smooth, grassy saddle,

HUNTING RAMS 221

which connected it to the mountain. The spur had a
ragged crest topping rough, steep slopes fluted by cafions
almost as deep as those of the big mountain. In fact,
that spur was more like a separate independent mountain.
As the saddle came into the field of my glasses, three
sheep suddenly appeared, one very dark, the other two
much lighter. I watched them closely until the dark one
threw up its head and displayed curling horns, apparently
very large. Big rams again!

It was not possible to go around the crest and descend
along the ridge without being seen by them. The only
alternative was to descend to the foot of the mountain,
cross the basin below, and then climb the spur on its
south slope. But then my approach might be announced
by the wind, which would be blowing directly from me
to the rams. Without hesitation I chose to face their
noses rather than their eyes, and began the long zigzag
descent, which was not accomplished until noon. ‘Thor-
oughly concealed at the foot of the spur, half a mile
south of the rams, I sought the bottom of a cafion falling
down the slope, found a clump of willows, made a small
fire, and after refreshing myself with tea and bread
climbed directly up the bottom of the cafion. Several
times while descending the other mountain I had watched
the rams, and at each view the horns of the dark ram
appeared bigger. Once a golden eagle circled around
them. How many times have I envied the eagle as it
soared along the crests and above the woods and valleys,
observing the animal life below from near or far!

It was a long, difficult climb, now clambering over

222 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

huge boulders, now scaling little cliffs, again toiling on
over the loose, broken rock; but at last I was near the
crest, where a small spur jutted out. I was on a level
with the rams, less than a third of a mile away, and a
strong wind blew directly toward them. Going below
the ridge of the spur, I looked over and saw the two large
ones feeding in the same place and the other lying down,
his head stretched out on the ground like that of a dog.
After looking through my field-glasses, my eagerness be-
came intense, for the dark ram had magnificent horns,
appearing black and large. His companion also had
fine horns, but those of the other were smaller. Inter-
vening ridges jutting out from the spur made it impos-
sible to form from my position any plan of approach-
ing within shot. Dropping back below the sky-line, I
climbed to the crest and slowly advanced, taking great
care to observe as much of the area on the other side as
possible, so that other rams which might be feeding there
would not see me and give the alarm. Keeping a sharp
lookout on all sides, I gradually came near enough to be
convinced that no other rams were about and that the
only remaining problem was to find a method of ap-
proaching close enough for a reasonable shot. Taking
advantage of another favorable projecting ridge, I crept
forward and looked over. All were still feeding and the
heavy, wrinkled horns of the dark ram, then seen plainly,
made me realize more fully the prize I was stalking.
After another slow advance along the crest, I went out
some distance on the roof of a ridge, broken on one side
by a precipice, and looked once more. I had to take

HUNTING RAMS 223

chances, since not yet had I found a method of approach.
As I was proceeding, the dark ram suddenly appeared,
feeding upward beyond the saddle, head to the ground,
and my return to the crest was cut off unless attempted
in plain sight. I noticed, however, a way to stalk close
enough. Two hundred yards ahead, another ridge jut-
ting out at right angles extended far enough to bring me
opposite the rams if I could succeed in reaching it without
disturbing them.

From the time the rams had first been seen, not once,
when I could see them, did one raise his head to look—
a most exceptional thing. Lying flat on my stomach, |
had to risk working back to the crest, and, foot by foot, -
all the time closely watching the ram, I wormed along
and at last, to my great relief, succeeded in reaching a
rock behind which I could keep out of sight until the crest
was gained.

Then began the increasing excitement of the final
advance. Ahead, the buttressed cliffs lifted up to the
spired crest; on either side below were desolate, rock-
filled basins and deep cafions from whose depths sounded
the subdued roar of the creeks; to my left, a rugged
mountain reached twenty miles to the valley of the Lapie,
and to my right continued a few miles to the smoother
ranges around the basin; while behind, filling the horizon,
were the Pelly ranges. All the colors were deepened under
the soft haze which the sunlight tinted blue, and which gave
to the mountain world a distant, mysterious grandeur.

As I carefully walked ahead, the strong wind blowing
from behind caused much anxiety. Then the loud, shrill

224. THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

whistle of a marmot made me shudder as I looked ahead
and saw a mother and three young, sitting on a rock at
the point where I was to turn off on the ridge. Twice
they whistled before I reached the rock, when the mother
plunged down in a hole at the foot, giving at the same
time a final, loud whistle. The young quickly followed
and I waited, fearing that the rams would appear run-
ning up the mountain-side. For a few moments all was
silence except the whistling of the wind around the rocks
and the faint roar of the cascades in the cafions below.
As I edged over on the ridge, other ground-squirrels
began to chatter, still more increasing my excitement.
Creeping on a steep slope just below the top, I slowly
advanced to a point which seemed to be opposite the
rams. The wind was then blowing without obstruction
directly toward them, and holding my rifle cocked, I
momentarily expected to see them dashing up in sight.
Not twenty feet beyond them the spur connection was
broken by a deep hollow, so that a few jumps upward
would take them out of sight, where they could descend
the slope and cross to the side of the mountain in safety.
Crawling forward on my stomach, inch by inch, I raised
my head and some distance to the left saw the lighter ram
with good horns, feeding downward—a beautiful shot.
The other two were not in sight. Dropping back and
slowly worming along for fifty feet, I crawled forward
and was carefully raising my head, when I suddenly saw
the smallest ram, who was lying down on the opposite
slope of the saddle, looking directly at me. By the alert-
ness of his gaze I instantly recognized that, though un-

HUNTING RAMS 225

certain as to the nature of the object, he had seen me.
At the same time I saw the horns of the two others who
were lying down below facing me, the dark one with
black, curling horns to the right.

Almost instinctively I lowered my head, and turning
on my back revolved in pivotal motion until my feet were
ahead. Then quickly rising in sitting posture, elbows
on knees, my rifle was pointed at the dark ram as it ap-
peared in the line of vision. All three quickly elevated
their heads with a jerk, but it was too late. Before they
could rise I had aimed at the breast of the dark ram
and the report echoed among the rocks as they all
sprang to their feet. The responding whack of the bullet
sounded before they began to dash upward, and I knew
that it had gone true. The dark one attempted to follow
but after five jumps fell dead. The others disappeared
in the break, but soon reappeared on the opposite slope,
which was one mass of protruding rocks and almost ver-
tical. I sat motionless and watched them. While still
within range of a long shot, they stopped and looked
back, as if wondering why the leader did not follow.
Then they ran upward in a series of jumps for a hundred
feet and stopped again. This method of ascending was
continued until they reached the crest, when again I had
before me that wonderful sight of the mountain ram
walking on the sky-line. I had noticed particularly their
attitudes. The large one seemed to be all elasticity.
His head was held straight up, his neck swelled out, his
back straight, his legs rigid. He reminded me of a strut-
ting cock. Thus appears the mountain ram under excite-

226 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

ment. But I made an interesting discovery. The other
ram was three or four years old and his horns curving
behind did not curl upward. When he reached the sky-
line and came under a certain angle with the sun, I
beheld the famous “‘:bex,” often reported to have been
seen on the far northern summits of Alaska. The horns
appeared to be magnified to a long sweep of three or
four feet, curving behind exactly like those of an ibex.
So complete was the deception, that had I not been cer-
tain of the animal, I would have been deluded into the
belief that an ibex stood before me. I have many times
witnessed similar delusions and have thus learned to give
more credit to the good faith of those who report having
seen an ibex. Also, I know that they have not been so
fortunate as to have had experiences similar to my own.
It was just a year, lacking one day, since a veteran
ram had been stretched out before me on a high moun-
tain in the Ogilvie range at the head of Coal Creek, a
veteran ram, the prize of many days of tramping over the
mountains. Now, stretched before me, was another vet-
eran ram, the prize of my trip among the Pelly ranges.
The dead ram was a hundred and fifty yards distant,
and I was interested to test the wind by throwing up
pieces of paper which were blown directly toward him,
near enough to prove that no eddying of the air currents
had deflected my scent. Going forward when the papers
fell, I tossed up others and they were carried in the same
direction. It was clear that my scent had not frightened
these rams. I went over to the dead ram and found
him lighter in color than the typical Stone sheep, and

mile ng egeoe sR ica

Ally

a “y Sra

HUNTING RAMS 227

darker than Fannin sheep. He was so old that I could
not count the rings on his wrinkled horns. They were
blunted at the tips, and his teeth were badly worn.
Though not large in circumference or unusually long, I
class them as the most impressive type of wild sheep-
horns—massive, well-curled, and more than all, thor-
oughly and deeply wrinkled. After taking some photo-
graphs I measured him—I never measure a mountain
sheep unless it falls on fairly level ground smooth enough
to insure accuracy, and just after killing, before it has
stiffened or become swollen. All the conditions were
favorable and my steel tape recorded his length as
fifty-nine inches, height forty inches, and girth behind
shoulders (a measurement which varies according to the
condition of the animal, and doubtful to get twice alike
under any conditions) forty-eight inches. His weight, so
near as I could estimate it, was about two hundred and
forty pounds.

The ram was lying at an altitude of six thousand seven
hundred feet. It was then nearly six in the afternoon,
and after resting awhile to smoke my pipe and behold
the glorified landscape, I took off the skin and cleaned
the skull.

At nine I reached camp; the air was frosty and the
warmth of the crackling fire congenial.

August 2.—The next morning I prepared the skin of
the ram, and also those of several ground-squirrels. In
the afternoon I took the mouse-traps and set them high
on a mountain in front of camp. Now and then I had
seen a chipmunk in the woods, but red squirrels were

228 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

entirely absent from the locality near camp. Of all my
camps in spruce woods in the interior of Yukon Territory
and Alaska, including even those in the timber-line
spruces, this was the only one where I did not see or hear
red squirrels. Rabbits were very numerous.

CHAPTER XV
THE FINAL HUNT FOR RAMS—1905

August 3.—The following day, though it was so hazy
that I could not see from mountain to mountain, or from
ridge to ridge, if separated by any distance, I started to
climb the spur where the ram had been killed, and to
ascend to the crest of the main mountain, on the chance
of seeing more rams on the other side. Reaching the
crest, and walking in a westerly direction I had not
advanced far before I saw an old ewe with her lamb,
together with two small rams, each about three years old.
They were feeding below at the head of a spur which
divided two basins. Concealing myself, I watched them.
After awhile they began to ascend toward a part of the
crest which was three hundred yards ahead of me. Their
gait was typical, like that of all mountain-sheep when
travelling undisturbed. They usually walk up smooth
places, and run up the steep rocky slopes. ‘Their ascent
or descent is a succession of walks, runs, and jumps.
But on a smooth, easy incline or on the level, except
when encountering rocks, they always walk. The head is
usually carried forward at an angle, and the necks of
ewes as well as of rams are straight, or sometimes swelled

when the head is held back.

229

230 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

The old ewe was extremely watchful and distinctly
the leader. Taking out my kodak, I remained flat on
my back, hoping that after reaching the crest they would
turn and come in my direction. But they passed directly
over and disappeared on the other side. The wind was
blowing from me to them. Holding my kodak ready, I
slowly followed the sheep-trail on the crest, toward the
point where they had disappeared. When within fifty
yards, I passed around a high, protruding rock and saw
them lying down just below the sky-line. Instantly
dropping back and preparing the kodak, I suddenly
stepped forward in plain sight and pressed the bulb as
the old ewe jumped up. All had begun to run across
the curving slope as I snapped another exposure. It was
hazy, and their color blended so perfectly with the rock
that they appear but indistinctly in the negative. I saw
them again after they had crossed a canon and were
beginning to ascend the slope toward that part of the
crest where the two large rams had gone the day before.

Proceeding in that direction, I looked over all the
country that I had not previously seen, until about the
middle of the afternoon when I observed some sheep
feeding in a basin below me. ‘There were two ewes, each
followed by two lambs, and five mature ewes without
lambs. All, including the lambs, were very dark, and
the neck of one ewe was distinctly gray. I watched them
for some time until they lay down to rest without a “sen-
tinel.” Like other ewes they fed much more actively
than rams; were more nervous, and oftener threw up
their heads to look; and they also maintained a more

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THE FINAL HUNT FOR RAMS 231

constant watch on the slopes above them. All the sheep
I had seen up to that time in the Pelly Mountains were
continually tormented about the lips and nose by insects.
They were constantly shaking their heads or rubbing
them along the ground, and striking the ground with
their horns. No mosquitoes were there and some of the
varieties of small flies must have been worrying them.

Later I returned to the carcass of the ram I had killed
the day before, and rested for half an hour. Looking up
at the crest of the mountain I saw the sheep which I had
photographed in the morning walking along the sky-line.
They evidently had been resting there all the afternoon.
The angle of the sun was again just right to transform the
three-year olds into “‘ibexes.”” Then, instead of leading,
as she did in the morning before they were disturbed, the
wily old ewe was walking in the rear, and pausing every
few moments to stop and look behind. The small rams
walked somewhat indifferently ahead of her. Cutting off
the hind quarters of the ram, I shouldered them and re-
turned to camp.

August 4.—The only territory available to hunt from
that camp, which I had not already investigated, was that
west of the south basin. Early in the morning, I tramped
three miles up toward the basin, and arriving at the foot
of the range waited for the atmosphere to clear. Heavy
mists obscured all the mountains and I did not want to
attempt the long climb unless the nearer mountains could
be distinctly seen. Instead of lifting the fog increased,
and by the time I had eaten lunch mists had filled all the
basins. I returned and the next day was so foggy and

232 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

rainy that I remained in camp. It was the first bad day
experienced up to that time on the trip.

August 6.—The following morning I started before
five. During the night heavy frost had whitened the
mountains, and the little pools of water were frozen.
The sky was perfectly clear, a light wind was blowing from
the south, and weather conditions were perfect to start
the day. Arriving at the foot of the mountain, I began
to ascend a steep, smooth slope, and soon found extreme
difficulty in keeping my footing on the slippery ground.
I should have waited for the frost to melt, for while wear-
ing leather moccasins it was dangerous to climb under
those conditions. But with my rifle as a staff I gradu-
ally zigzagged upward until reaching the last twenty feet
below the crest. That part of the slope was smooth rock
and very steep, the slippery surface relieved here and
there by loose pieces of stone lodged in cracks and inden-
tations of the surface. There I paused for awhile and
considered the chances, for up to that point the climb
had been trying to my courage. Eagerness to gain the
crest spurred me on to attempt it, and after feeling among
some of the loose rocks, I thought they were lodged
securely. After a step or two it was clear that my mocca-
sins would not hold; so, taking them off, I was encour-
aged by finding more friction in my socks, and, with rifle
slung on my back and clinging with hands and toes, I
began to crawl upward. ‘Three thousand feet of slope,
sharply inclined and slippery, was below, and one slip,
a slight momentum gained, and I would have dashed
downward.

THE FINAL HUNT FOR RAMS 233

After six feet, the loose rocks were scarcer and my
position was becoming doubtful. Four feet more and I
realized extreme danger, since I could scarcely hold to
the slope and could not retreat. Three more steps and I
began to go backward, but held myself in time. Another
attempt and I gained six feet, when a small rock, which
was all that held my left foot, as I was reaching above
for a handhold, gave way and I began to slide quickly.
Before it was too late, my knee caught a rock and held
me. I could not even look back, but feeling with my
hand another rock above, I pulled myself upward and
made a vigorous scramble, trusting all to the result. It
was successful, for I caught a secure rock on the edge
at the top and pulled myself up. Only those who have
had a similar experience can realize my relief.

A new panorama burst into view; below were three
exquisite Alpine lakes nestled high in the mountains at
the head of a cafion, through which they drained to Tes-
lin waters on the other side of the divide, while to the
south-west, endless ranges and ranks of peaks extended
toward the horizon. Clouds began to gather as I started
to walk along the crest. Nothing is more fascinating
than to roam along the crest of the higher ranges in that
far northern country. You feel that the whole country
below is yours—in it you are supreme. In the vast wilder-
ness unfolded around you, you feel a wild, unfettered free-
dom; you follow the sheep-trail, always a good path,
leading you securely around the pinnacles; with strained
excitement you walk slowly along, every step bringing
new pictures in view; you look off over a vast bewildering

234 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

landscape of lofty ranges rich in color, abounding in
sculptured crags, deep cafions, and green basins—the
desolation relieved by the chatter of the ground-squirrel,
the bleat of the coney, or the whistle of the marmot, while
you are ever alert for larger game—the noble ram or the
shaggy grizzly.

By noon the wind from the south had increased,
bringing dark clouds, mists, and a heavy shower. I had
noticed among the Pelly Mountains, that whenever the
wind came from the south, it brought heavy mists and
showers. Sitting under a shelving rock, I ate some
bread and remained for an hour until the sky was again
clear. Looking westward across the valley to another
range, I saw a band of eighty ewes and lambs feeding
and resting on the slope. The variations in color were
the same as in the case of the sheep already observed in
the Pelly Mountains. As they rested, I watched them
and noticed at times an apparent sentinel, but at other
times all rested without one.

I then continued along the crest toward the amphi-
theatre of mountains surrounding the head of the basin.
Their north slopes, then fronting me, were covered in
places with much snow, and iron-stained rock imparted
to them a rich, red color. At three in the afternoon, when
nearer the head of the basin, I seated myself for the pur-
pose of looking through my field-glasses at a very high
mountain farther to the west. This was connected by a
high saddle to another mountain which was joined to
the basin ranges by a ridge. A large bank of snow ex-
tended down the slope of the saddle, two miles distant.

THE FINAL HUNT FOR RAMS 235

On the snow I saw a three-year-old ram, which soon left
it, and was joined by two others of the same age. It was
interesting to observe how extremely conspicuous a sheep
of that dark color was when on the snow. They walked
upward in single file along the sky-line to the crest, when
the sun magnified their horns to the ibex transformation.
They were apparently very suspicious and as they pro-
ceeded, kept looking down. When I saw another small
ram appear above the snow-bank and lie down, I con-
cluded that there were more rams below on the other
side. Not being able to pass around the precipitous sides
of two peaks near me, I had to climb over them and this
required some effort and crag work. Proceeding, I was
in plain sight of the ram which stood above the snow,
and my progress, between pauses to watch him or to
observe others that might appear near him, was, there-
fore, slow and careful. The other two rams soon ap-
peared on the top of the mountain and lay down facing
me. They must have seen me, for several times I saw
them rise and look suspiciously in my direction, although
they were fifteen hundred feet above me and more than
a mile distant. At length I reached the foot of the inter-
vening mountain, and, thoroughly concealed, slowly made
the ascent. Reaching the apex I looked over. Below,
on the other side, was a small circular basin of broken
rock alternating with grassy areas, almost completely
enclosed by surrounding rock walls. In the bottom was
a gleaming crystal lakelet, strongly reflecting the peaks.
To my right, between the two mountains, was a deep

gorge.

236 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

Circling to the right, I saw three small rams lying
above the snow, two of them facing me, the other looking
toward the north-west. The rams on the peak above had
risen and were looking at me. I felt sure there were rams
below, and began to descend toward the gorge. After
I had gone a short distance, a large band of rams, feeding
just above the edge of the gorge, suddenly came into
view. Instantly I withdrew from sight, since it was im-
possible to approach them from the mountain I was on.
Retreating upward around the slope, I descended to the
top of the connecting ridge, observing everywhere numer-
ous fresh sheep tracks indicating that this band of rams
had been occupying the areas about this basin for a long
time. It was after five when I began to advance directly
toward the gorge, hoping to come near enough for a good
shot before the rams below would come in sight. Having
studied the ground, I knew that a successful approach
was doubtful, and I had been obliged to take the one
possible way—to advance along the rolling slopes in plain
sight of the three rams above the snow. The rams on
the summit were already standing and watching me.

Keeping my eyes on the lower rams and stooping low,
I slowly advanced, but they soon saw me and at once
rose and stood looking at me. As I progressed, they
remained motionless and I could almost feel their pene-
trating gaze. When the band below was not more than
three or four hundred yards distant, I came to a swell
in the ground and knew that from the top of it I could
see them. But I could not get nearer. The slope on
the other side fell almost vertically to the gorge. Creep-

THE FINAL HUNT FOR RAMS 237

ing upward, I looked over. Twenty-five rams were
below, some lying down facing in all directions, some
lazily feeding. They seemed to feel perfect security in
the secluded basin where probably during the whole
summer, they had lived undisturbed. All were dark in
color except three, which appeared almost white. Most
of them were five or six years old, but the darkest one,
then lying down, had particularly fine horns. Only two
of the others had large horns. I wanted that dark ram.

The most noticeable feature of that band was the
appearance of their horns. All were amber-like, and
seemed almost transparent. The horns of the rams I
had previously seen behind the camp were in color almost
exactly like those of the Rocky Mountain sheep. Future
investigations enlightened me on these facts. The differ-
ences in color are due partly to the amount of rain which
washes them, and still more to the composition of the
soil and rocks among which they feed. Rams in the fly
season are continually striking their horns in the ground,
and at all seasons are poking them among rocks when
they feed, thus discoloring them in different degrees.
After heavy rains, horns always appear cleaner and more
yellow, and in winter they are much cleaner than at other
times of the year.

There was no sentinel among these rams, unless the
three small ones, five hundred yards above, could be con-
sidered as serving that duty. In spite of the lazy comfort
which they seemed to be enjoying, I noticed that indi-
viduals kept up an alert watch in all directions, turning
their gaze up as well as down. While I was watching

238 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

them, well concealed behind some low rocks, a large
mass of rock broke away from the top of the mountain
behind them, and thundering down the slope landed
about fifty yards to their right. During the crashing
descent I observed them very closely. They remained
absolutely indifferent to the small avalanche, only one
of them turning his head in that direction. ‘Three single
rocks fell at later intervals, but they took no notice of
them. After awhile in seeking a different position so
that I could better hold my glasses, I dislodged a small
stone not three inches in diameter, which went roll-
ing down the slope. Up to that time I could not see
that any of the rams had suspected my presence, except
the three small ones above, two of which were then lying
down. These small rams evidently trusted the larger
ones, and even after having seen me approach, they were
indifferently awaiting some warning of alarm from the
leaders below. At the sound of that small rock, the
whole band jumped up at once and started to walk up
the slope. It was perfectly calm and I could feel no
currents of air. ‘The rams were suspicious and I knew
that in a moment they would see me. Being so far from
camp, I realized that an opportunity might be lost and
that after seeing me they might leave the locality before
I could return. So resting my rifle on a rock, I aimed
at the largest and fired. All suddenly ran to the right,
while the young rams above dashed down the slope to
join them. My bullet struck the ground three feet below
the big ram. I fired twice more as he ran. Both shots
missed and the sheep disappeared around the slope.

THE FINAL HUNT FOR RAMS 239

Hurrying down, I found a way to cross the gorge and
ascended to the saddle. All were standing six hundred
yards away, low down on the slopes of the mountain on
the crest of which I had travelled all day, and were
looking up in my direction. Returning through the
gorge, I again climbed to the connecting ridge, circled
around, and saw the rams travelling low on the slopes in
a northerly direction—that from which I had come in
the morning. They passed out of sight around the end
of a spur half a mile ahead. I climbed to the crest,
reached the spur, and descended along its ridge almost
to the foot, before I saw them travelling well ahead, still
lower on the slopes. Looking back, some of them saw
me and all broke into a run, still keeping the same course.
I watched them through my field-glasses as they passed
over spur after spur for two miles, until, reaching the
foot of some high cliffs, they bunched and stood in
hiding.

It required more than an hour to climb back again
to the crest, cross over the two pyramid peaks, and travel
along until I reached the spur at the foot of which I
thought they were hiding. Descending its acute ridge
for half a mile, I looked over and did not see them. A
succession of spurs projected out from the mountain,
and by that time I was utterly confused as to which one
sheltered the rams. I had taken landmarks, but from
the crest above could not recognize them. Again ascend-
ing to the crest and advancing to the next spur, I slowly
descended and looked over the cliffs at its foot. No
sheep were there. But looking across a wide canon, at

240 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

the foot of the next spur, under the cliffs, I saw the whole
band, all its members lying down and looking only up-
ward. ‘There was nothing to do but again to climb up
on the crest; but I had studied the ground and knew
just how to approach them and also the point on the spur
from which to get a shot. Reaching the spur I began to
descend, and the stalk was on in earnest. When I
started downward the sun was just above the horizon and
threw long shadows. Cafions were on both sides of me,
and my shadow fell far out down the slope. I waited,
therefore, until the sun went down, and again started.
There was not a breath of wind, the sky above was clear,
the whole landscape was hushed and still. Peace breathed
over the mountain; the peace of approaching twilight.
Directly below were the three Alpine lakes, their surfaces
like glass and burnished with the reflection of the colored
sky. So calm was the water that the delicate ripples
made by insects could be plainly seen. ‘Three teals were
gently floating on the lower one. To the west ranks of
bewildering peaks lifted up in a sky of gorgeous crimson,
gradually shading into the cool gray above. A golden
tinge haunted the crests, while pyramids, spires, and
domes were rosy yellow above the blue cast of the
slopes which led down to the shadowy purple of the
valleys.

The ridge-top of the spur was steep. Step by step I
advanced downward, now over a little grass, now over
broken rock, often letting myself down low ledges. It
was already so dark that I felt doubtful of seeing my
rifle sights. It was so still that I crept for a hundred

THE FINAL HUNT FOR RAMS 241

yards before coming to the two rocks from where I ex-
pected to geta shot. Nearer I came, my noiseless mocca-
sins answering well to the occasion, until, with rifle
cocked, I was ready to attempt a running shot if the
rams should suddenly dash in sight. Reaching the rocks
I looked over. I was not quite far enough, and before me
was a steep incline of ten feet, all loose, broken rock.
Sitting down, I carefully prepared each step by arranging
the rocks with my hand. Then with rifle at my shoulder,
I slowly rose.

In spite of my caution the rams had heard something
suspicious. Four were standing just below the cliffs and,
as my head came in sight, were looking directly at me.
_ They were a hundred yards away. The dark one with
big horns was still hidden with the rest of the band nearer
to the foot of the cliff. One of the rams looking at me
had large horns. While the four were standing still, a
clatter of hoofs sounded. Off-hand, I quickly shot at the
largest one in sight, and saw him fall as the whole band
dashed diagonally up the cafon on my left. There was
no time to rest my rifle. Four rams were running to-
gether up the opposite slope, the big dark one leading.
He fell dead to my shot. Another large one ran up the
bottom and, firing, I heard the bullet strike him. One
that was running more to the left suddenly turned and
came running toward me. He was the whitest of all,
and I killed him in his tracks. By that time all were
running well up the slope, and a wounded ram followed
fast enough to gain on them. [I fired once more at him,
but he kept on with the others and went over the crest.

242 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

Darkness was rapidly descending. Passing the white
ram curled up among the rocks, I had started for the big
ram which was lying dead in the bottom of the canon,
when a noise below caused me to turn my head, and I
saw the first one I had fired at rolling and bounding down
the slope until he disappeared in the dusk. Following as
rapidly as I could, I almost reached the foot, but it was
so dark that I could not find him. Fog began to settle,
and I hurried back to the crest. It was nearly ten in the
night when I reached it, and a dense fog enveloped the
whole mountain. It was dark and the descent over an
unknown slope was before me. I was at an altitude of
seven thousand four hundred feet, and it was very cold.
Feeling my way with the butt of my rifle, hour after
hour I descended, step by step, always in danger, and
twice falling.

August 7.—It was two in the morning when I reached
the foot near the creek coming from the basin. There I
kindled a fire and made tea, which together with a small
piece of bread refreshed me. Dawn was beginning as I
started down the creek, and a heavy rain began to fall.
The drenching received while walking through the last
two miles of willows was equivalent to complete immer-
sion.

At 4;30 in the morning I reached camp. A big fire,
a plate of rice soup, and some boiled mutton invigorated
me before writing in my journal the events and details
of the day. After three hours of sleep, I breakfasted
with Jefferies and we started for the carcasses, hoping
also to recover the wounded ram. The day was over-

BIG DARK ONE WAS LEADING. HE FELL DEAD TO MY

>

AUGUST 6.

“Wk WAS THE WHITEST OF ALL AND I KILLED HIM IN HIS TRACKS,’
?

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: Et ifie tn al
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THE FINAL HUNT FOR RAMS 243

cast, but the clouds were high and it did not rain. We
cut long willow staffs, climbed the mountain, and having
travelled for five and a half hours, reached the dead
rams. I had noticed on the crest the tracks of the fright-
ened band of sheep, which had followed it almost to the
end of the mountain before descending the west slope
and crossing the valley to a high mountain beyond, but
I did not see a sign of the wounded ram.

From the spot where the first ram that had been shot
began to roll we descended just two thousand feet, ac-
cording to my barometer, before finding him among the
willows, almost at the foot. He was not badly bruised,
and had fine, large horns. After taking off the skin, we
went up to the big one, which had beautiful horns, shapely
and well curled. We took off his skin, and later that of the
light-colored ram, and brought them up to the crest. It
was then 9:30 in the night and a fine half-moon was
shining in a clear sky. The lakes gleamed below and
the distant peaks were suffused with a mysterious, shad-
owy light. ‘There was more light than the night before,
and the descent was less hazardous, even though we were
burdened with awkward loads. ‘The staffs were of great
assistance. Reaching the basin, we made tea, and later,
at 2.30 in the morning, arrived at camp. That day I
had seen a rough-legged hawk on the crest; and had
also heard conies—the second time I had noticed them
during the trip. They were scarce in the Pelly Mountains.

August 8.—I rose at eight the next morning. The
pure mountain air had put me in such good physical con-
dition that I felt thoroughly refreshed even after the

244 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

short hours of sleep and the strain of the two previous
days. New fields of exploration were to be undertaken
and I resolved to return to the Pelly River as soon as the
skins should be dried enough for packing. It required
all day to prepare them, and I wanted good clear weather
for their drying, but was disappointed.

August 9-12.—The next three days were damp; mists,
showers, and clear sky alternating. ‘The fourth was clear,
and a large fire near the skins dried them sufficiently
for packing. During those four days I occupied myself
with unsuccessful efforts at catching mice.

The bird life at timber-line was limited. Along the
creeks I had heard the tinkling notes of the water-ousel.
An occasional spotted sandpiper had skipped along the
bars, or a harlequin duck had dodged among the rocks.
The golden eagle was always in sight. Ravens were
entirely absent, having gone to the salmon rivers to feast
on dead salmon. I did not hear the hoot of an owl.
Several pigeon-hawks were in the woods near camp, and
once I saw two of them following an eagle, darting at it
again and again. Rough-legged hawks were about the
high mountains. Juncos, and Alaska jays were abundant.
The last did not come near the camp but once, and then
only for a few moments. Rock ptarmigan were on the
mountains, but nearly all the willow ptarmigan were
below with their young in the brush. I did not see a
grouse until returning along the Lapie River. An occa-
sional marsh-hawk appeared there as everywhere else in
the Territory; chickadees were always present, usually in
small flocks. The Western tree sparrow and the Gambel’s

“FINDING HIM AMONG THE WILLOWS, ALMOST AT THE FOOT,” AUGUST 7.

THE FINAL HUNT FOR RAMS 245

sparrow were common. Occasionally a kingfisher would
fly up the creek.

I was always interested in testing the acute senses of
the ground-squirrels. Though I could approach close to
them before they plunged into their holes, they always
detected my approach long before. Their sense of hear-
ing is exceedingly keen, and at any suspicious sound they
sit up to look and their sight is as sharp as their hearing.
The senses of marmots are equally keen. They have their
homes high in the mountains and well up near the heads
of the basins.

In the fall and winter, moose are very abundant among
the willows above timber. After a great deal of observa-
tion I came to the conclusion that they seldom feed on
dwarf-birch, Betula glandulosa. ‘This conclusion I veri-
fied by numerous subsequent observations. The willow
flats in the draws among the Pelly Mountains are well
situated for hunting moose in the fall. These draws are
always bordered by clear slopes above, from which the
hunter can see the animals. At that time, however,
pack-horses, necessary to the transport of their heads,
could not subsist, and the hunter would have to remain
until November and bring his trophies out with dog-
sleds.

I saw no signs of caribou in those parts of the Pelly
Mountains I had tramped over, and the Indians informed
me that they do not range anywhere in the Pellys. I did,
however, see one old track on a bar near the lower end
of the Lapie. An occasional caribou must at times stray
across the country.

246 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

Wolves must be abundant, for I saw great quantities
of their old dung everywhere. Much of it contained
rabbit hair, and some of it moose hair, but in none of it
could I find sheep hair.

The diggings and trails showed that grizzly bears are
abundant there in the spring. The fact that I saw only
one does not indicate that others were not about, for in
the summer the sight of grizzlies is always uncertain.
When we reached the Lapie on returning, I saw numer-
ous fresh signs where grizzlies had been digging the root
of the wild pea vine. Although huckleberries were very
abundant where I found the diggings, no berries or seeds
were in the fresh dung which contained only grass and
roots.

August 14-16.—Dried sheepskins are somewhat deli-
cate, and it was a problem to make a pack of seven,
including some of the skulls and our equipment. I loaded
my riicksack with forty pounds and tied a skull on top.
Jefferies was to carry two skulls, and we succeeded in
putting the rest of the material on Danger, and started.
Danger had been going lame in his right foreleg for a
week, and by the end of the day he was so lame that the
following morning we ourselves had to carry in relays all
the material for two miles over a ridge, when we again
loaded the horse, who limped along for the rest of the day.
For the next two days we proceeded, the lame horse keep-
ing up nobly, down grade and over a route then well
known tous. When trophies are carried on a pack-horse,
travelling through swamps, brush, and timber, it is ex-
cruciating agony to follow. Smash, bang, tear, rip, crash,

THE FINAL HUNT FOR RAMS 247

are the sounds all day as the pack is pushed through
stiff willows and spruces, each jar causing an anxious
shudder to the owner of the precious stuff.

On the return trip, the big horse-flies, which had before
tormented the horse, were absent, but the small black
flies made him bleed. It was the season for sand-flies,
small creatures like midges, but slightly larger. They ap-
peared in swarms in the afternoon and retired at night,
and while active attacked both man and horse.

Aside from rough travelling and tired shoulders, which
ached under the loads, no incident occurred on the return
trip. We saw no animals except red squirrels which were
abundant the last day we were on the Lapie, and a few
more varieties of birds. We reached the Pelly August
16, having made about the same time from camp on the
return as on the trip in. None of the skulls or skins were
damaged, and all were stowed safely in an abandoned
cabin. Lewis not having returned, all the Indians were
still there. On seeing my sheep horns they became very
much excited. They had previously doubted my ability
to kill sheep.

Dan McKinnon’s trade had been that of a blacksmith
and at once he offered to take Danger—a suggestion which
I accepted on condition that he would gather sufficient
grass to keep the horse through the winter. This was in-
tended as an indirect refusal, for Danger was lame, and
I knew that it was best to end his life rather than leave
him subjected to the cruel conditions of the wilderness.
McKinnon, however, accepted my condition, and soon
had the barrel of a 22-rifle red hot in a fire. By noon the

248 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

next day he had hammered out a scythe, which was sharp-
ened on a grindstone. He immediately began to cut the
long nutritious grass growing abundantly on the banks,
and old Danger’s lease of life was prolonged.

THE ROSS RIVER. COUNTRY
MOUNTAINS BORDERING THE PELLY RIVER

ro

InNyT [VD Aq st

‘NUOLS DNIHOVONddVY WOU YALIAHS ONINGAS SUMO

CHAPTER) XVi
THE TRIP UP ROSS RIVER—1905

AucustT 17 and 18 were spent in storing the skins,
sorting out provisions, and preparing the canoe. The
following morning we started up Ross River. I wanted
to investigate the mountain ranges adjacent to it, and ex-
amine the sheep if any could be found. ‘The Indians had
told me that no sheep existed west of the Mackenzie di-
vide, but knowing that they did not like to have anybody
hunt in their territory, I realized that I must personally
explore the mountains.

The volume of Ross River at its confluence with the
Pelly is slightly less than that of the latter. It was dis-
covered by Campbell during his trip down the Pelly in
1843, and named by him after Duncan Ross, chief factor
of the Hudson Bay Company. Its source is near the di-
vide of land separating the Mackenzie River water-shed
from that of the Yukon, about latitude 63°. The sources
of the Pelly River and the South Branch of the MacMillan
on the west side of the divide, and those of the Gravel
River on the east side, are within a few miles of those of
the Ross, which latter meanders for a distance not far
from two hundred miles in a south-westerly direction to
the Pelly. Several lakes, situated at intervals in the up-

per reaches of its main drainage channel, are features not
251

252 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

possessed by the other rivers. It flows through the hunt-
ing territory of the Pelly Indians.

Four years before I arrived at Nahanni House two
French Canadians, Cassat and Dumas, had ascended the
river to a point just above Prevost Cafion, where they con-
structed a cabin and passed the winter trapping. The
following year Lewis and his partner ascended a short
distance, but returned. At the same time, two other trap-
pers continued still farther and trapped through the win-
ter, while the same two Frenchmen trapped up the East
Branch, later called the Prevost River. A Russian went
up to the first lake and trapped that same winter. The
following winter Lewis and his partner trapped at Lewis
Lake, while La Croix and Prevost trapped on the Prevost
River. The winter before my arrival at Nahanni House,
a trapper had trapped around Lewis Lake. According
to information given to me by Lewis, these were the only
white men who had ever ascended the river. No informa-
tion about it had been brought to the outside world, and
I was about to explore new territory.

Two years after my trip, Joseph Keele, of the Cana-
dian Geological Survey, was detailed to explore the moun-
tain region between the upper Pelly and Mackenzie Rivers.
After spending the summer of 1907 in ascending the Pelly
River to a point one hundred and forty miles above its
confluence with Ross River, he returned and ascended the
Ross River, wintered on Sheldon Lake, and in the spring
crossed the divide, conveying his canoe and equipment
by means of dog sleds to a navigable point on the Gravel
River. When the ice went out later, he descended to the

THE TRIP UP ROSS RIVER 253

Mackenzie. His report was published in 1910.* With
the report, which discusses topography, drainage, cli-
mate, and general geology of the regions, is an excellent
map on which names are given to lakes, tributaries and
mountains.

August 19.—While flocks of geese were flying south
overhead Jefferies started with the rope over his shoulder,
dragging the canoe, which contained a load of five hun-
dred pounds. I followed and after awhile relieved him.
The first six miles we towed through a wide cafion of
broken water, and after emerging at the head, poled for
over three hours and camped in some spruces on the bank.

For the next three days we ascended without an inci-
dent. The river was five feet below high-water mark,
and favorable for poling. I poled from the bow, while
Jefferies poled from the stern. The river followed a ser-
pentine course through a low, rolling country which was
very monotonous as compared with either that of the
Pelly or of the MacMillan. The current was not swifter
than three miles an hour, and we resorted to tracking
only through the riffles and some of the longer reaches of
broken water. The character of the river is very much
like that of the MacMillan, but it lacks the scenery.
There are the same wide bars, the same spruces, poplars,
willows and alders along the banks; similar areas of
burnt country; innumerable curves and numerous cut
and scarped banks—all reminding me of the MacMillan.
The fall colors had just begun to appear, though the nights
were quite warm.

* See Appendix.

254 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

The second day some dome-shaped mountains of sub-
dued type loomed up ahead in the distance west of the
river. Dead king-salmon were on the bars, and all the
ravens in the country seemed to be congregated along the
river for the purpose of feeding on them. The farther up
we went, the more salmon we saw spawning in the pools.
Thousands were dead on the bars or dying in the water,
and equal numbers were still spawning or struggling up
against the current; hundreds, too weakened to remain,
were drifting down, many striving to swim against the
current, but without strength left to do so. We were there
during the end of the spawning season, the last stage in the
life of those noble fish. Observing that enormous sacri-
fice of life, I reflected on it without discovering the Benefi-
cent Law of nature or Goodness of Design, by virtue of
which countless millions of these magnificent fish are an-
nually sacrificed in the full flush of life, for the sake of
propagating their race. Battered, bruised, and torn by
their long journey of nearly twenty-three hundred miles
from Bering Sea, stemming the sweeping current, forcing
their way through dashing rapids, they finally deposit
and fertilize their eggs as their life ebbs away.

I noticed the same birds that were seen on the Mac-
Millan River, but fish-hawks were very abundant, and
bald eagles were present—the only place I have ever seen
them in the interior of either the Yukon Territory or
Alaska. Rabbits and red squirrels were numerous, but
the little beaver cutting that I noticed was very old, the
Indians having practically exterminated the beavers long
before. On the lower parts of the river moose tracks

THE TRIP UP ROSS RIVER 255

were not nearly so abundant as on the MacMillan. When
we reached the part of the river where salmon first ap-
peared, fresh tracks of the black bear were very numer-
ous, and still farther up were abundant tracks of the
grizzly. Well-worn bear-trails extended along the edge
of the woods, usually through the grass bordering the
bars. This greatly interested me, for it showed the ex-
treme caution of bears. There was no reason, except for
purposes of concealment, why they should not have made
trails through the grass well out near the bars. I par-
ticularly observed the fresh dung. That of the black
bears always contained berries, but no signs of berries
were observed in that of grizzlies. Often, sections of tape-
worm, still living when I saw them, appeared in the dung
of both.

Some impressions of my camps along the banks of
Ross River are still vivid in my memory—the moaning of
the sweeping current, the numerous dying salmon drift-
ing down on top; the continual quarrelling of the ravens
gathered on the bars; the chattering of the red squirrels
in the trees. The nights were perfectly calm, and during
the late hours the sky colors were gorgeous. A waste of
dreary wooded wilderness surrounded me. But every
scene of desolation in that wild northern country has its
beauties. Along the Ross River it was the fringe of
spruce-tops against the sky. I have not elsewhere en-
joyed the charm of it so continuously, for the reason that
near the other rivers much less of the country is flat. In
the evening, when the sky is golden, when deep pink
clouds are floating high above the woods, a long line of

256 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

graceful spired spruce-tops, delicate in texture, varying
in forms, fringes the gilded horizon, while all is dimly re-
flected in the gliding sweep of the current below.

August 24.—On the night of August 23 there was a
heavy frost and the next day was perfect—cloudless and
calm. We divided the time all day between poling and
tracking. In the morning I saw a flock of geese, which
kept alighting and flying ahead of us all day. “Two more
bald eagles appeared, and for the second time | saw a
goshawk chasing a kingfisher. Both lynx and wolf tracks
were abundant on the bars. I noticed that the bears,
after catching salmon, had always taken them into the
woods or brush to eat. The water of the river was more
broken, and the wading reminded me of my arduous trip
up the North Fork of the MacMillan River. Old Indian
camps and caches were often seen on the bank.

After six in the evening we reached a part of the river
where it was confined to a short, narrow canon between
ridges on both sides. The bottom was filled with huge
boulders and big rocks. The rapids surged over the
rocks and whirled around the boulders, eddying among
the deep pools below them. When I was hauling the
boat, with Jefferies in the stern guiding it with the paddle,
and we were well inside of the canon, I saw a black bear
rapidly approaching along the bank three hundred yards
ahead on our side of the river. Beckoning to Jefferies,
I pulled the boat to the shore, and taking out my rifle told
him to hold the canoe. He was greatly excited, having
seen the bear just before it went out of sight behind a jut-
ting cliff. I seated myself facing in the direction of ihe

THE TRIP UP ROSS RIVER 257

bear, which I knew would soon come in sight, since the
wind was blowing down the river. ‘The bear suddenly ap-
peared swimming out in the rapids, and when in the mid-
dle, turned and came directly down, dodging around the
rocks and keeping as much as possible in the deeper pools.
Before witnessing that feat of swimming, I had believed
that any kind of a bear would have avoided such danger-
ous water. It would have been very easy to kill it when
swimming by, but the current would have carried it down
and I did not care to take the canoe down river and lose
the distance gained by so much hard work. It was head-
ing for the opposite side, so I waited for it to arrive on the
bank. When it landed, I could scarcely see it, so per-
fectly did it blend with the dark rocks. My shot missed,
and the bear gave a spring and stood looking. I was
again aiming, when Jefferies suddenly fired and followed
his first by three more shots, all missing, while the bear
ran back and forth in complete bewilderment. I had
not noticed that he had taken his rifle out of the boat, nor
did he pay any heed to my protests. He was so excited
that he was really in a state of frenzy. After his last shot
the bear stopped a moment on a hummock rising above
some brush, even then not having detected the direction
of the shots. I fired and it fell in the brush, but immedi-
ately jumped up and ran over the ridge. That was the last
time I ever allowed a man employed by me to carry a rifle.
I had never done so before and this time had made the
mistake of yielding to Jefferies’s promises that he would
not use it unless in case of accident. Crossing over, I saw
blood and followed it for a mile in the woods and over

258 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

ridges until no more could be found. Returning to the
river, camp was made there, and, later, we slept in spite
of the roar of the rapids.

August 25.—From there on the water was broken,
the tangents were longer, the bottom rocky, and the river
was bordered by low ridges. We were then in the moose
country, for the abundant willows were everywhere
cropped, and moose tracks were numerous. In two and
a half hours we reached the Skookum Rapids (so called by
the trappers), eighty-one miles up the river. Over a
precipitous descent for five hundred yards the river rushes
in a succession of white combers. Because of the low
stage of water, we succeeded in lining the boat up the west
side, and successfully passed through some similar rapids
of shorter length, two miles farther up. We then poled

for several miles to Prevost Cafion. This cafion, several
hundred yards long, is enclosed between high cliffs which

are so close together that the river is swelled and forced
through in a succession of cataracts. We were obliged
to unload and portage around to a favorable place, and
then carry the boat to the smoother water of an eddy just
at the head of the cafion.

Having again loaded it we crossed to another eddy on
the opposite side where a rocky shore gave a good foot-
hold for lining. ‘This eddy was formed by a big boulder
standing out in the riffle where the river curves into the
cafion. Jefferies put the rope over his shoulders and
throwing it around the boulder walked on the other side,
while I held the bow. After taking up the slack of the
rope he told me to push the bow out in the current.

THE TRIP UP ROSS RIVER 259

What followed shows that one of the best rivermen in
the North will sometimes err in judgment. He did not
realize the strength of the current. I could not see Jeff-
eries as I slowly moved the bow out until the current
caught it, but noticed that the canoe was rapidly being
carried diagonally across the riffle instead of being pulled
to head directly up against it. Then I heard Jefferies
shout: ‘‘Everything is lost,” and the canoe rapidly swung
out broadside to the current and started down the canon.
He had not been able to pull the bow up into the riffle,
and to save himself from being pulled in had cast the rope
loose.

My rifle was on the shore. In the riicksack on my
shoulders were my kodak, field-glasses, and instruments
All the provisions were in the bottom of the canoe. On
top of them were three or four canvas sacks containing
our sleeping robe, clothes, gill-net, matches, cartridges, a
small tent I had brought for the purpose of protecting
trophies, and a few plain cooking utensils and other things.
An extra rifle and the axe were fastened toa sack. A can-
vas had been placed over all and roped down tightly.

The canoe was rapidly carried down ten feet and
lodged broadside for a moment against a large rock pro-
jecting out of the water. It was tipped at once and the
current rushed through, sweeping all the provisions be-
low into the canon. The canoe then slipped off the rock,
swung around and was caught by the eddy which whirled
it within my reach as I stood breast deep in the water.
The fates were not entirely against us, for the canvas sacks
were not forced out during the first rush of the water, the

260 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

rope holding them secure until the provisions were swept
from the bottom. As the eddy caught the boat, the sacks
began to float toward the bank and Jefferies was on hand
tosave them. The axe and the extra rifle dropped in four
feet of water close to the bank. There was nothing to do
but to make camp and pass the night.

August 26.—The whole of the next day was devoted to
walking down the river in the hope of finding some of the
provisions, many of which were in small bags. We found
only one bag of rice and it was thoroughly soaked. But
we spread out the rice, dried it near the fire, and boiled
enough for a good meal.

August 27.—We knew that some lakes were not far
ahead, and then the gill-net could be set with a good chance
of catching fish. Early in the morning we started, and
in a little over seven and a half hours reached Lewis Lake.
The Prevost River enters the Ross about half a mile be-
low the outlet of the lake. For that distance from the
outlet the water is broken by shoals and riffles, while
ledges of rock occur along the bank. Thousands of dead
salmon were on the rocky bars, and fifty or sixty ravens
and two bald eagles were there to enjoy the feast. I was
towing the boat and the wind was blowing down river.
A ledge jutted out into the water and [| had to wade well
out in order to pass around it, while Jefferies was push-
ing the canoe from behind. Heaving on the rope I
rounded the rocks and saw on the bar a hundred and fifty
feet ahead a magnificent male grizzly standing, head up,
one forepaw raised from the ground, ears cocked straight
up, looking at me. Quickly stooping low, I beckoned to

TOWING UP THE Ross RIVER, AUGUST 23.

HEAD OF Provost CANON. BIG ROCK AT RIGHT WHERE ACCIDENT HAPPENED.

‘es :
h al
Me ee 3

|
+
th *

Ac ee eg:

THE TRIP UP ROSS RIVER 261

Jefferies to bring -my rifle, but it was too late. Before
he could act the bear turned and two bounds carried him
into the woods. I found his trail as it emerged from the
fringe of woods bordering a swamp. It showed that he
had continued to run. ‘That was the last grizzly I saw in
the Yukon Territory. The experience reminded me of
other chances lost, for there is no doubt whatever that the
noise of poling and tracking as we ascended the river had
frightened off several bears which I might have shot, had
I been walking quietly a sufficient distance ahead.

It had been a cold, bleak day with a strong head-wind
against us, and the night before snow had fallen on the
mountains. After reaching the lake, we paddled against
a head-wind to the upper end and found the old cabin
that had been occupied by Lewis. Immediately after
unloading the canoe, we set the net and returned to await
results. After two hours we visited it and found it empty.
We slept under the stars, hoping to appease our hunger in
the morning.

August 28.—It was very cold that night and in the
morning the robe was white with frost. Finding a large
pike and two large white fish in the net, we ate a hearty
breakfast. No fish of the fresh water is more delicious
than the white fish of subarctic lakes and rivers. Hard,
very fat, of delicious flavor, one large fish will provide two
hearty meals. The pike is almost as good.

By the course of the Ross, Lewis Lake is one hundred
and one miles from the Pelly. Our canoe was about
twenty-one feet long and weighed a hundred and fifty
nounds. Until the last day it had carried a load of about

262 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

five hundred pounds. The water was low and very fav-
orable for both poling and tracking. Our actual travel-
ling time, after deducting all stops, from the Pelly River
to Lewis Lake was sixty-six hours and five minutes. Of
this time, we poled the boat for forty-one hours and fifteen
minutes, and towed it for twenty-four hours and fifty
minutes. This included forty-five minutes in going
through the Skookum Rapids, twenty-five minutes the
heavy rapids two miles above, and one hour and fifty
minutes in portaging around Prevost Canon.

A few words about poling up the swift tributaries of
the Yukon. Jefferies called poling ‘‘ bucking the current,”’
and I have not heard it better expressed. ‘The river glides
and races steadily, strongly, resistlessly. Even when two
men are using poles, one in the stern, the other in the bow,
they simply push against it. It is continuous, downright
hard labor, with only slow progress as a reward, for the
boat creeps slowly upward, and when overcoming the
numerous riffles it barely moves under exhausting effort.
Like any other hard physical labor, you soon become ac-
customed to it and acquire a swing, but the expenditure
of muscular energy is none the less fatiguing. ‘There is,
however, one satisfaction. After you have settled down
to the continuous strain all day, now going faster in the
eddies and slower reaches of the current, now going slower
in the swifter water, and again barely moving as you rap-
idly chug your poles on the rocky bottom and pull with
heart-breaking effort, you finally go on the bank to camp,
and looking down the river realize that you are putting
a long stretch of country behind you for delightful days

THE TRIP UP ROSS RIVER 263

to come, when you will be paddling down with the
current.

It was quite necessary to kill game as quickly as possi-
ble for a food supply. We spent the morning erecting
the tent and drying everything that had been soaked in
the wreck, and after eating another fish for lunch, poled
two miles up the river to Field Lake. Thousands of
ducks and geese were floating on its glassy surface, its
shores were fringed with thick spruce timber, and all its
numerous beaches were bordered by tall green grass. We
paddled around the shores in the hope of seeing a moose
until nearly dark, but were disappointed. When we
reached camp, half a dozen white fish were in the net.
Salmon were running up the river between the two lakes,
but the net was too light to hold them.

August 29.—In the morning the net had yielded four
or five white fish and I found in the traps, which had been
set the day before, four red-back mice, Evotomys dawsont.
Crossing the river I started up toward some fairly high
plateau-shaped mountains east of the lake, hoping to find
a moose at the head of the draws. For three hours I
toiled through thick woods and brush to timber-line, and
then climbed the highest point of the mountain, from
which I could command a view of the whole country south
and east. Moose signs were abundant below, but above
the timber there was no sign of sheep or caribou.

The three lakes were directly below me—beautiful
lakes, each somewhat circular and about two miles in di-
ameter, all buried between mountains. On the east is
a range of rounded mountains of a subdued type, three

264 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

and four thousand feet high, quickly falling away both
north and south of the lakes. That range is isolated and
on the east slopes to a rolling wilderness below. West of
Lewis and Field Lakes, irregular ridges rise continuously
for three miles back to Mount Riddell, a series of dome-
shaped crests, sixty-eight hundred feet in altitude. A
low depression separates this mountain from Mount
Sheldon,* which is seventy-two hundred and fifty feet
high, and rises almost from the shores of Sheldon
Lake.

Mount Sheldon, a massive granite mountain com-
pletely isolated in that section of the country, towers up
like a majestic sentinel guarding the lakes below. Owing
to its isolation it has a stern, impressive grandeur more
imposing than any mountain I have seen east of the
Yukon River.

To the south I could see the whole course of the Ross
as far as the Pelly River, and dimly discern the summits
of the Pelly Mountains beyond. The country between
the Ross and the Pelly, and that to the south-east is
low and rolling—a vast timber-clad area. Three or four
fairly large lakes glistened in the forests.

Far to the east are the ranges across the Mackenzie
divide—ranks of snow-white peaks.

Mount Sheldon, Mount Riddell, and the single range
east of the lakes compose an isolated group, separated
from other mountains by many miles of low timbered
country. Sheldon Lake is at the end of canoe navigation,

* The mountains and lakes were so named by Joseph Keele, the Canadian
geologist.

Lewis LAKE. DIRECTION—SOUTH-WEST, AUGUST 20.

FIELD LAKE, Mount SHELDON, AUGUST 29.

THE TRIP UP ROSS RIVER 265

and I realized that the only chance of finding sheep was
to climb the slopes of Mount Sheldon.

Late in the afternoon, after having taken compass di-
rections and having made sketch maps of the surround-
ing country, I turned my field-glasses toward Lewis Lake
to look over the shores, and saw near the lower end a cow
moose with her calf, both well out from the shore and re-
peatedly plunging their heads under water to pull up some
succulent weeds growing below the surface. It was ab-
solutely calm and the lake was like glass; the sun was
low in a sky of gold and crimson; Mount Sheldon, grim
and desolate, towered over the wild regions below; the
silence pervading the landscape was unbroken. But the
wilderness depths revealed a scene of life—the calf moose
and its mother separated from the recesses of their forest
abode, and feeding in the dimly shining water of the lake.
I had to hasten down to reach camp before dark. Ptarmi-
gan were abundant, but I saw no signs of ground-squirrels
to remind me of past days spent in other mountains.

CHAPTER XVII
THE SHEEP OF MOUNT SHELDON—1905

Tue following morning a white fish and an “‘inconnu”
were taken from the net. The latter I found similar in
flavor and almost as good as the former. A salmon en-
meshed in the net had torn it so badly that part of it was
ruined. Red-backed mice were very abundant, their
intersecting trails spreading all over the surface cf the
woods. I prepared several that had been taken in the
_ traps, and waited until nearly four in the afternoon be-
fore we started out in the canoe, hoping to find the cow and
calf feeding in the same place in the lake where I had seen
them the previous day.

A strong head-wind was blowing and both of us had
to use the paddles, as we went toward the middle of the
lake so that I could see, from a distance, around the point
where the moose had been feeding. When we were out
far enough, I saw both the mother and calf feeding in the
water exactly where they had been before. Dropping
back, we paddled the canoe close in shore, and then along
it until within three hundred yards of the point. After
landing I followed the beach, intending to creep through
the woods across the point, and was about to enter the
woods, when the cow suddenly emerged not a hundred

feet from me, and stepping without hesitation into the
266

‘Tf Isnoay ,,{aaOHS SLI WOMT dN SYAMOL HOIHM NOGIAHS INAOJY JO LOO AHL LY AMV] NOCTAHS ,,

THE SHEEP OF MOUNT SHELDON 267

water began to wade out on the sandy bottom. The calf
then appeared and followed. I shot the calf through the
neck, and it instantly dropped dead. Jefferies, evidently
excited, jumped into the boat as the calf fell, and the cow
at first stood looking at him. Then she looked at the
dead calf and, turning, trotted into the woods for a few
feet and stopped; then trotted a few feet more and stopped
again and looked back. Then she disappeared. As
Jefferies, with shouts of glee, came paddling the boat, the
cow came trotting back, looked at the approaching canoe
for a moment and again trotted off, not to reappear.
After we had dressed the calf and loaded it into the
boat, a large flock of short-billed gulls surrounded us and
followed all the way to camp. Their plaintive cries re-
minded me of coasting along the Inland Passage to Alaska.
We now had a supply of food, and not being dependent
on the net, could devote time to looking for sheep.
August 31.—The next morning we poled up to Field
Lake, and paddled the boat across it and through the nar-
row channel to Sheldon Lake at the foot of Mount Shel-
don which towers up from its shore. There we pitched
the tent among some scattered spruces and constructed a
cache to hold the meat. Along the shores and on the
island I noticed many shed horns of moose, showing that
they had been there in January. That night as I sat in
the frosty air before the fire, while sparks were shooting
up among the tree tops and the sky was studded with stars
brightly twinkling above Mount Sheldon, over the water
sounded the call of the loon. I have never heard it be-
fore or since in the interior of Yukon Territory or Alaska.

268 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

September 1.—Early the next morning I started up
through the woods, and fighting my way for three hours
through the willows and dwarf-birch, emerged above
timber on the slopes of Mount Sheldon, which was cov-
ered with a few inches of snow. Looking up through my
field-glasses I saw near the crest three young sheep which
were very uneasy and kept nervously looking about.
One was a three-year-old ram, the others two-year-olds.
They acted in the way characteristic of young rams when
separated from their band. They would lie down for a
few moments, and then get up and look, until they moved
a short distance to feed. After feeding a few moments
they would become restless, and after looking about lie
down again. But they would soon rise up and move
nervously around. At last they went up near some cliffs
and lay down facing up, but they still remained nervous
and kept jerking their heads in all directions to maintain
the watch. One was quite dark in color, the other two
almost white.

Circling around the slope so as not to disturb them,
I ascended for some distance. Ptarmigan were very
abundant, and the holes of ground-squirrels were every-
where, though some of the squirrels had retired to hiber-
nate. A few greeted me with familiar chatter. To the
south of the mountain was a vast level meadow swamp
extending to the lower slopes of Mount Riddell. Moose
signs were abundant, and I decided to move the camp up
to timber-line, since the long climb up through the woods
from the shore of the lake consumed so much time that
little remained for hunting.

THE SHEEP OF MOUNT SHELDON 269

September 2.—In the morning, each with a pack of
sixty pounds, we slowly toiled upward, fighting the dense
willows at every step. In the afternoon, timber-line was
reached and the tent pitched among scattered balsams
festooned with exquisite black moss hanging like silken
cobwebs from the branches. We could look down on
the lake below and command views to the north, east,
and south. Behind was a long fringe of spruce tops
adorning the golden horizon, while the peak of Mount
Sheldon glistened under the rays of the setting sun.

September 3.—Three inches of snow fell during the
night and the wet willows gave me a drenching before
reaching the south slope of the mountain, which I began
to climb. A strong, cold wind bringing snow and hail
came from the west and I was obliged to descend to the
timber and make a fire to dry my clothes. It cleared at
noon, and starting up the slope I had not gone far be-
fore seeing a bull moose just inside some scattered tim-
ber a mile distant at the west of the swamp meadow,
where the waters drain to the South Fork of MacMillan
River.

His horns were of fair size and he was rubbing them
against a tree to clear them of the velvet. He would
either butt the tree or rub vigorously, and continued
these operations for some time. Then, after feeding for
awhile, he would begin rubbing on some other tree.
Once, pushing his horns into the branches of a fallen dead
tree, as if in a frenzy, he kept tossing it. I watched him
through my field-glasses for an hour, until he was in a
place favorable to approach. Then after circling to a

270 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

point where the wind was right I started toward him.
The moose, feeding in some willows near a clump of
spruce trees, was soon out of sight, and I went rapidly
toward the spot, until within five hundred yards, when
he suddenly appeared in an opening, and I dropped low.
He again passed out of sight, and I advanced. Finally,
I saw him through the spruces a hundred and fifty yards
away, but the trees were too densely clustered to try a
shot. Again he disappeared, and going to the left, step
by step, I approached until soon I could see all of the
clear area where he had last been feeding, but he was
not in sight and I knew he was lying down.

Advancing fifty yards, I saw the tips of his horns. He
was lying facing me, near a clump of willows. Lying on
my stomach I crawled along and with rifle at my shoul-
der, suddenly rose and fired full into his chest. He stif-
fened out, trembling, and I walked toward him, but to
my surprise he suddenly struggled to his feet and trot-
ted fifty yards ahead before he fell dead. After taking
the scalp and cutting off the head, I cut out fifteen pounds
of fat and opened his stomach. It contained only willow
leaves. His horns were shapely and had a spread of
forty-eight inches; the velvet was entirely off one, and
some was hanging in strips on the other, where one point
was still soft. He had a fine bell sixteen inches long.
Shouldering all, I struggled back to camp. Jefferies
shouted with enthusiasm when he saw the fat, for the
meat of the calf was lean and we both craved fat. We
then sat before a fire of balsam wood which burns beau-
tifully, without sparking.

THE SHEEP OF MOUNT SHELDON 271

September 4.—It began to snow, and the next morning
four inches covered the ground. It was a beautiful clear
day and I was soon on the slopes of Mount Sheldon. Af-
ter ascending diagonally in a north-west direction, I saw
eight sheep three hundred yards beyond—two rams, each
six years old, one dark, the other light, together with three
ewes and three lambs—all quietly feeding. Two of the
ewes were dark, the other almost white. The white ewe
had a very dark lamb, while one of the dark ewes had two
nearly white lambs. I watched them for a long time, but
did not care to kill one. In color they agreed strictly with
the sheep found near the MacMillan River.

Seeing a possible route to the peak of the mountain,
I began to ascend. Though leather moccasins were dan-
gerous, I had chosen a path among protruding rocks
where I hoped to find footing. Step by step I struggled
upward, often slipping and falling, and after reaching the
top made up my mind never to attempt another snow-
covered mountain unless with suitable footgear. When
I reached the crest of that stupendous granite mountain
and looked over, instead of seeing rough slopes, I looked
down into the depths of a magnificent cirque—a vast
amphitheatre of perpendicular walls falling more than
three thousand feet to a lake of sapphire blue. Ancient
ice had carved out a great circular pit resembling a huge,
deep volcanic crater, the circle of cliffs almost meeting
toward the north-west, not three hundred feet apart.
Through this opening a stream trickled out from a lake.
Time had fashioned the precipice-walls in thousands of
“antastic shapes, the upper cliffs projecting in pillars,

272 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

turrets, cones and rough-hewn crags. Scarred, seamed,
and shattered, cliff upon cliff, ledge upon ledge, the great
walls reared straight up from the débris below.

Neither before nor since have I commanded at one
view such vast areas of forest on all sides. I could see
both forks of the MacMillan, the Selwyn ranges, the
smoother plateau mountains between the MacMillan and
the Pelly, the Itsi Mountains, and the distant peaks of
the Mackenzie ranges across the divide.

The impression felt when standing on the summit of
that lone, massive mountain peak, isolated from other
high ranges by miles of intervening wilderness was not
that caused by silence and grim desolation, although they
reigned supreme. It was a profound sense of loneliness—
a loneliness caused by the vacancy of uninterrupted space.
Never had I felt it in a similar way before. My nature
was compelled to a stern accord with the upper world of
sky, rock, and snow. But when I gazed down upon the
great stretches of wilderness below, the impressions of
the world above were transformed into those produced
by the beauty and grandeur of the surrounding landscape.

Walking around the crest I could see no more sheep
except those below which were peacefully resting. I made
the descent without disturbing them and returned to camp.

September 5-6.—I had seen a few old caribou tracks
on the mountain and the next day we took the sleeping
robe, a piece of canvas, and some meat, and crossed four
miles through the woods to timber-line. at Mount Riddell,
which appeared to be a better range for caribou. ‘There
we threw the canvas on some inclined poles and filled

“TIME HAD FASHIONED THE PRECIPICE WALLS IN THOUSANDS OF FANTASTIC SHAPES,”
SEPTEMBER 4.

““A VAST AMPHITHEATRE OF PERPENDICULAR WALLS FALLING MORE THAN 3,000 FEET TO A
LAKE OF SAPPHIRE BLUE,’’ SEPTEMBER 4.

5 oe gar 4 ss
th tea tied in de an ei

ae oT a4 Nia

at U 4%

THE SHEEP OF MOUNT SHELDON 273

the sides with brush. In the morning I ascended the
smooth slopes of the mountain, which was of the type
that caribou prefer for their range. In two hours I was
on the crest, and after circling all around it, returned to
camp by noon. I had observed only a few old caribou
tracks, and an old, abandoned sheep-trail almost obliter-
ated by grass and weeds.

It was clear that a few sheep had once been accus-
tomed to feed there. It was also clear to me that the
only sheep in that section of the country were on Mount
Sheldon, and even there the band was very small, as
indicated by the fact that the larger rams were with the
ewes. I had, however, learned the character of the sheep
in that part of the country, and that was the object of my
exploration of the Ross. Therefore, I decided to go back
to the Pelly as quickly as possible, and devote the re-
mainder of my time to examining the sheep on the moun-
tains bordering both sides of the river, between the mouth
of the Ross and that of the MacMillan River. In the
afternoon we carried all our material to the shore of the
lake and there passed the night.

The Ross River country offers no good hunting, except
for moose, which near the lakes are as abundant as on
the MacMillan. But since the mountain area is so
limited that few draws are favorable for finding them, the
topography of the country, compared with that of the
MacMillan, makes it most inferior as a place for success-
ful moose hunting. I saw a few old bear diggings, de-
monstrating that grizzlies are there, but the lack of more
open country would be unfavorable for seeing them in the

274 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

spring. Keele, who spent the winter on Sheldon Lake in
1907-1908, found moose very abundant everywhere, but
saw only five or six caribou near Mount Riddell. He
observed no sheep on Mount Sheldon, and probably the
small band IJ had seen there will decrease to the point of
extinction, if any still exist.*

I observed the same varieties of birds as on the Mac-
Millan. In the Yukon territory bird-life in the summer
and fall is not great in variety and birds are not observed
so often as in the spring. On the Ross and at the lakes
Alaska jays were about camp all the time. Rabbits, red
squirrels, ground-squirrels, marmots, and _ red-backed
mice were the common small mammals. ‘The vast spruce
forests yielded to former trappers abundant martens,
lynxes, and some minks, but foxes are rather scarce.
During the winter Keele saw a great many wolves, which
usually were gathered in bands to hunt moose.

September 7-9.—As we paddled through the lakes early
in the morning, numerous whistling swans were floating
on the surface. Later, Lewis told me that thousands
came to these lakes in October. We paddled down the
river for three days. ‘The whole country was aflame with
brilliant fall colors. ‘The areas covered by huckleberry
bushes were deep carmine in contrast to the bright-red
leaves of the currant bushes along the river banks; yel-
low and gold streamed out from the poplars and willows,
while the scattered birches reflected charming tints of
green, delicately shading into the others; splashes of

* Keele does not think that there are any other sheep in any of the
mountains bordering the Ross River.

CAMP AT FOOT OF McuNT RIDDELL, SEPTEMBER 6.

INDIAN CACHE NEAR A BAR OF THE Ross RIVER, SEPTEMBER 8,

eel an i
fy es a se

aK At

rnd
Ay”

THE SHEEP OF MOUNT SHELDON 275

crimson among the dry, gray tufts of the burnt spruce
timber glowed in the sun, while the network of leafless
branches assumed an exquisite blue.

Smoothly and rapidly we glided down the river among
the gay colors under sunny skies. An occasional mink
slipped along the bank and once I saw a black bear, but
it went in the woods before I could stop the canoe.
Another time, as we were silently gliding by a dead log,
not ten feet away, my eye caught a female lynx stretched
at length on it, trusting to her color blending with the log
to hide her. But as we floated by, I saw her in time and
killed her. From the outlet of Lewis Lake we had paddled
twenty hours and twenty-five minutes to reach the Pelly.
We accepted the chances and ran through both Prevost
Canon and the heavy rapids below, and continued pad-
dling until September g, when we reached Nahanni House
and found that all the Indians had departed and were
scattered to hunt moose, Lewis having arrived with am-
munition a few days before.

Old Danger, still lame, was peacefully feeding on the
other side of the river. But later in the fall he was killed
for dog food.

On reaching Nahanni House we craved, first sugar,
and then bread and tea. After our meat diet, these pro-
vided a feast more delicate to the palate than the choicest
viands served to the gourmandizing man of the city. We
rested for a day and then started down the Pelly River.

CHAPTER XVIII
THE ROSE MOUTAINS—1905

September 11.—Under the azure sky of a calm Indian
summer day, surrounded by gorgeous color, the broad sur-

face of the charming Pelly floated our canoe along, as the
swift current, assisted by our paddles, bore us rapidly
around the sweeping curves and along the wide bars and
fantastically escarped banks. The mountains above were
white with snow, the terraces below them brilliant in
contrast. As the Pelly range faded from sight, the Glen-
lyons came into view. Goshawks were then very numer-
ous along the river and I saw two different ones, each at
a different place, chasing a kingfisher. Once I saw one
chasing a herring gull, and, another time, one chasing a
raven. Different flocks of red-breasted mergansers scur-
ried down the current ahead of us all day.

September 12.—We camped just before dark, and in
the morning, after paddling forty minutes, reached Rose’s
cabin. As we landed, he stepped out on the bank to wel-
come us, with that taciturnity and lack of demonstration
always acquired by those who habitually live alone in
the woods. He had been there two years and had con-
structed a V-shaped cabin without even a window. It
was banked with earth from the ridgepole to the ground
and hence, though gloomy, was very warm in the winter.

He was an old man about sixty, who, after having spent
276

THE ROSE MOUNTAINS 277

several years without success in locating a mining claim,
had come up on the Pelly, “‘to trap and prospect,” as he
said. ‘‘To trap and prospect!” the final stage in the ca-
reer of numerous unsuccessful prospectors in that north-
ern country. It means coming to the country full of hope
and ambition, lured to endure its hardships by a burn-
ing desire of finding the gold where nature has milled it
into dust and nuggets, so that the individual miner has
only to dig out the gravel and wash it. After a year or
two of hard work, in the midst of other men more suc-
cessful, the grubstake becomes exhausted before anything
is found, but the golden flame burns even brighter than
before. The prospector must then build his cabin far
off in the woods and trap through the winter in order to
secure enough fur to exchange for supplies sufficient to
enable him to work his claim during the summer. It
may not produce, and then he must try another. Re-
peated failures dim the flame and deaden the ambition,
and new country is sought where animals may be trapped
to exchange for a new grubstake with which to prospect
for a new discovery. By this time the man has become
accustomed to a life of mere existence and is unfitted
for anything else. Still, for some time he calls himself
a “trapper and prospector.” After this stage, he soon
acquires the habit of living entirely alone, which often
marks the beginning of hallucinations, sooner or later,
usually, developing into insanity. In proportion to the
population of white men, there is more insanity in those
far northern countries than in any other part of our con-
tinent.

278 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

We pitched our tent near his cabin and made up the
packs which would cause our shoulders to ache the next
day. In the afternoon I took a walk through the woods
and circled around to the shore of a long slough, half a
mile below the cabin, which I named Rose Slough. The
shore was hard clay and contained the tracks of a moose
which looked so fresh that I concluded they had been
made the night before. But Rose told me that they had
been there for eighteen days—which only goes to show
how easily one can be deceived as to the age of the tracks
of hoofed animals.

The day before, Rose had constructed a set-gun two
miles below on the river, for a bear, and that evening
asked Jefferies’ advice as to his method of constructing

it. “Absolutely wrong!” was Jefferies’ verdict. “‘Im-
possible for the bear to set it off.” My own judgment

seconded his opinion. ‘Then it was explained how a set-
gun should be arranged, and Rose decided to go down
river the next morning and reconstruct it according to
expert advice.

September 13.—As he left, we burdened our shoulders
with the packs and struggled upward through the brushy
woods. Behind a succession of benches and terraced
ridges the range of mountains rises, rugged and bold, to a
crest culminating in peaks from five thousand eight hun-
dred feet to six thousand two hundred feet in height. I
named this range the Rose Mountains, as a tribute to the
old man, who will probably spend his last days beneath
them on the banks of the Pelly. For five hours we climbed
up through a deep draw, and emerged at timber-line on

Mr. ROSE AND HIS CABIN, SEPTEMBER 12.

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THE ROSE MOUNTAINS 279

the north side of the range. There we constructed a
canvas shelter and made camp. Later, before we slept,
the moon shed its glory on the snow-covered mountains
enclosing us.

September 14.—Early the next morning I climbed one
of the smooth, dome-shaped mountains to the north, and
spent the whole day travelling over their summits. To
the north, I could see the whole country between the
Pelly, MacMillan, and Ross Rivers—a country different
in character from any other draining to the Pelly. It has
more the character of a vast, uneven plateau eroded into
wide, basin-shaped valleys, with high, dome-like moun-
tains grouped without any regular trend. Most of them
rise above timber, some are very massive, others ex-
tremely subdued. They are, first of all, caribou ranges,
and the extensive willow growth marks a fine country
for moose. It is quite probable that here and there on
the summits small bands of sheep may range, but it is
also doubtful if they wander far from the Rose Moun-
tains.

While scanning the valleys beyond, I saw smoke
curling up one of the slopes far to the north-east. It
undoubtedly came from a camp of the Pelly Indians who
were hunting moose and caribou. There were no sheep
tracks in those smooth mountains, but caribou tracks
were everywhere, none of them very fresh. Ground-
squirrels were still out, and great flocks of ptarmigan
were flying about the slopes. Late in the afternoon, as I
was looking through my field-glasses over on the Rose
Mountains, sixteen or seventeen sheep appeared, but they

280 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

were too far away to observe their color or sex. I reached
camp at dark when the air was crisp and frosty.

September 15.—Early in the morning I was high on
the slopes of Rose Mountain, and after reaching the crest
saw eleven ewes and lambs lying down two hundred
yards below me. A heavy snow blizzard suddenly de-
scended and lasted for an hour, while I sat sheltered from
the wind by a rock. The sky cleared as quickly as it had
darkened, and moving to a point where I could get a
good view of the sheep, I watched them. All were of
the same color as the sheep in the Pelly Mountains—
bodies and legs gray and necks and heads light or white.
They were browsing and one continued to rub her body
against a stiff willow. The lambs also browsed like the
ewes.

Without molesting them, I climbed the peak and could
look across the Pelly and see both the Pelly and the
Glenlyon Mountains. The crest of Rose Mountain is
about five miles long and culminates at an altitude of
six thousand two hundred feet. The slopes are steep,
with a series of jutting crags extending far down, enclos-
ing troughs between them. ‘These troughs are grassy,
and favorite feeding-places for sheep.

By noting the more densely wooded character of the
slopes on the north side of the Pelly River east of Rose
Mountain, Dr. Dawson had inferred that this increased
growth was owing to greater humidity—because of a prob-
able gap existing between the western end of the Pelly
range and the Glenlyons. This inference was correct,
for I could plainly see the gap, and Rose told me that

THE ROSE MOUNTAINS 281

the Little Salmon River headed there, not far from the
Pelly.

I went along the crest to the west end of the range,
and there had to endure another snow blizzard which
lasted two hours. Then I saw about seventeen ewes and
Jambs not a hundred and fifty yards away. All were of
the same varying color as the others seen on the same
mountain. None of the sheep observed in Rose Mountain
acted as “‘sentinels,”’ but they were as restless and active
as ewes generally are. After watching them for an hour, I
left without disturbing them and returned tocamp. I had
seen two fresh caribou tracks on the mountain, great quan-
tities of ptarmigan, a few ground-squirrels and marmots.

That night, as I was lying under the shelter and look-
ing down the basin, then filled with mist, while the sur-
rounding mountain-crests were bathed in a ghastly light
shed by the moon, and complete silence reigned over the
weird scene, the grunting of a bull moose sounded a
hundred yards behind me. Nearer and nearer out of the
gloom came the sound, but not a stick cracked, not a foot-
step was heard. Still nearer it came, until only forty
feet away, but although I strained my eyes to penetrate
the dimly lighted mist, I could see nothing. Not a sound
was audible except the regular grunting, which now began
to grow more distant and finally ceased, on the opposite
side of the basin.

September 16.—The next morning we returned to the
Pelly and found that Rose had the skin of a small female
black bear stretched on a frame. Not even a humorous
twinkle beamed in his eyes when he told us that when

282 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

he had arrived to reconstruct the set-gun, he found that
the bear had already discharged it and killed herself.

September 17.—The last three frosty nights and the
cold winds had done their cruel work and killed the
foliage. Snow covered the slopes, the willow leaves near
the river were brown, the golden glow of the poplars had
gone, and the leaves were falling fast. From a landscape
of brilliant color to one of brown and gray the transition
had been abrupt.

We were again gliding down the Pelly under an over-
cast sky, in a raw, cold wind, bringing at intervals flurries
of rain. “Twenty-five miles below we passed a large creek
coming from the north. I had seen it flowing through a
fine valley north of Rose Mountain. It had not been
named, so I called it Rose Creek.

As the afternoon hours pass by when one is sitting
in the bow of a canoe, silently paddling, with rifle ready
by his side, a deep fascination is added to the charm of
gliding down those parts of the rivers where game is
abundant. At any moment, a moose—that monarch of
the northern forest—may appear on the bars; a bear may
be seen swimming or moving among the willows; a lynx
may be observed sitting on the bank; a fox playing on
the shore, or a wolf skulking in the shadows. On the
tangents, the eyes are continually strained to detect an
animal far ahead, and when going around the curves the
eagerness becomes intense. Later, as the sun goes low,
the aspect of every inanimate thing changes, and from a
distance many objects so resemble an animal as to impel
the eyes to a close scrutiny.

THE ROSE MOUNTAINS 283

About four in the afternoon, just before reaching the
Tay River, where the Pelly curves sharply around a bar
bordering a flat of fine poplar trees, we heard a loud
crack back in the woods. As we rapidly glided around
the curve and approached a favorable wind, another crack
sounded, and then another. The moose were rutting,
and I[ thought that the noise was made by a bull knock-
ing his horns against a tree. We dropped down to the
lower end of the bar, quietly paddled to the shore, and I
stepped into the woods. Fortunately the wind came from
the direction of the noise, and I was wearing moosehide
moccasins—the best of all footgear to muffle the foot-
steps. [he undergrowth was not dense and I could see
well ahead through a fine poplar grove.

As I entered the woods a rabbit ran away, thumping
the ground to the right. I paused some time to listen,
but not a sound was audible, except the rustling of the
leaves on the trees. Then, step by step, I cautiously ad-
vanced, and, nearing the spot where the noise had sounded,
saw another rabbit skipping away to the left. I stood for
several minutes and listened, but could not hear a sound.
Just as I was about to return I saw the dusky form of a
lynx, fifty feet ahead, apparently following with noiseless
tread the trail of the rabbit. Its grayish color blended so
perfectly with the fallen leaves and poplar trunks that I
could scarcely distinguish it as it glided along. Raising
my rifle and following the lynx as best I could, a favorable
opportunity was presented as it passed through the dense
poplar growth, and I fired, knocking it down. But it
jumped up and was running in zigzag leaps as I fired

284. THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

three more shots, each missing. By that time it had
circled to a point fifty feet ahead of me, and after the
last shot it squatted down. I could see blood streaming
from its chest, and holding the rifle to my shoulder I
covered it, but did not fire the last cartridge, thinking
that the lynx would expire.

A sudden rustling of the leaves caused me to turn my
head, and I was startled to see a large black bear walking
not ten feet away, and apparently looking at the wounded
lynx. It stopped just as I saw it, and with one foot
raised and head held high, it seemed to watch the lynx.
Quickly swinging my rifle, I fired full into its chest. It
gave a great spring, and, clutching its chest, reeled, half
running in a short circle, and dropped almost at my feet.
It kicked twice and died just six feet in front of me. The
lynx was in the same position. Quickly reloading, I
whistled for Jefferies, who came running into the wocds.
As he approached, the lynx began to move off in awkward
leaps and we followed. After a short distance it again
lay down and I killed it with a club. Jefferies went for
my kodak as I brought the lynx to the bear, and after
photographing both, we carried them to the canoe, and
an hour later reached Jefferies’ old cabin opposite the
Glenlyon range, where he had spent the winter two years
before.

September 18-21.—The black bear was a mature male,
five feet one and a half inches long. In the afternoon,
while we were fleshing the skin, Jefferies saw two wolves
about four hundred yards above on a bar. I hurried
through the woods, but before I could come near enough

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” SEPTEMBER 17.

*T)ROPPED ALMOST AT MY FEET,’

JEFFERIES CABIN, SEPTEMBER IQ.

THE ROSE MOUNTAINS 285

for a reasonable shot, they were swimming the river and
soon a third one followed them. Arriving on the opposite
bank, all three trotted along until lost to sight.

During the day thousands of little brown cranes, in
large flocks, passed over, all going south. I noticed that
each flock on arriving at a point just below us, became con-
fused and paused in its flight, circling higher and higher,
until at last, when high in the heavens, almost lost to
sight, it found its course and filed away in a V-shaped
wedge to the south-west. Large flocks of geese also
passed over, and several flocks of ducks.

We dragged the carcass of the bear well below the
cabin in the hope of later finding a wolf feeding upon it.
All along close to the Pelly great horned owls were very
common, and rabbits were at their maximum of abun-
dance. The next three days were boisterous, the equi-
noctial storm having descended, and we could not start
for the mountains; fog, snow, and rain held us prisoners
in the cabin. We craved meat, and, walking through the
dripping brush in the morning, killed six rabbits. In
September rabbits are very fat, and after hanging for a
few days are excellent to eat. Ravens, gulls, and Alaska
jays feasted on the bear carcass, but no larger animal
came to it while we were there. The ravens first picked
holes through the belly and pulled out the entrails to get
at the fat attached to them. Several large flocks of her-
ring gulls were seen flying down the river, and numerous
flocks of migrating birds passed through the fog and rain.

CHAPTER XIX
THE GLENLYON MOUNTAINS—1905

September 22.—With heavy packs we started on the
morning of September 22 for the Glenlyon Mountains,
and after fighting through willows and travelling over
benches, reached a creek flowing through a draw which
extended well up in the ranges. After five hours we had
ascended two thousand feet, from the river to timber-line,
and were well within the outside range. A broad, rolling
mountain valley spread out on both sides of a fine willow
draw, and camp was made among some scattered spruces.
Two pieces of canvas were tied together and thrown over
inclined poles in the form of a shelter, from which we had
an outlook over the whole valley.

September 23.—It was near zero in the night, and the
following day was calm, cloudless, and mild. I climbed
to the crest of the mountain north-east of camp and was
then almost directly above the Pelly River, which wound
in a wide curve below me. I could see all the mountains
along the MacMillan River—the Kalzas range, Plateau
Mountain, the Dromedary Mountain, the Russell Moun-
tains, and more dimly the peaks of those between the
Forks. All were covered with snow.

The Glenlyons, trending in ranks, stretched away to
the south-west. They are rugged and bold, like the Pelly

286

9

OF PELLY—RANGES ALONG MACMILLAN IN DISTANULE
SEPTEMBER 23.

LOOKING DOWN ON “DETOUR

GLENLYONS TOWARD SOUTH-WEST—T AY RIVER MOUNTAINS IN DISTANCE, SEPTEMBER 2

THE GLENLYON MOUNTAINS 287

range, but with more dome-shaped tops, the peaks reared
up from five to seven thousand feet. The Glenlyons are
mostly granite, and the width of the ranges is about ten
miles.

The wind had not yet swept off any of the snow that
had fallen during the storm, and walking along the top
was tedious. I noticed rabbit tracks on the very top,
and a few ground-squirrels were still out. I travelled all
day along the summits and over the peaks without seeing
a sign of sheep until five in the afternoon, when I saw
nine ewes and lambs, half a mile away, walking along
a crest extending in a north direction. While watching
them as they kept pausing to paw out the snow, sixteen
others suddenly came in sight, crossing a saddle toward
the south side of the mountain I was on.

Wading through deep snow I climbed over the top
and going down on the other side to a point where I could
see the sheep found myself in plain sight as they were
approaching. It was too late to return, so I found some
rocks near, and crawling to them concealed myself and
watched the sheep. All were of the same color as the
sheep in the Pelly Mountains. They kept advancing,
now and then stopping to feed, until reaching the crest
they passed above me and soon were out of sight. They
crossed my trail without noticing it. After allowing time
for them to gain sufficient distance, I ascended to the
crest and observed their trail on the snow. The tracks
followed the crest two hundred yards and then led down
the mountain-side, almost directly above our camp. I
decided to kill, if possible, two two-year-old rams which

288 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

were with the ewes, and a ewe which I intended to bring
back to Skagway for my friend Newell, Vice-President
of the White Pass Railway.

While the dark, wide valley of the Pelly River, stretch-
ing away to the white mountains beyond, was before me
on one side, and the snow fields and peaks of the Glen-
lyons merged into a golden horizon below a gorgeous
crimson sky on the other, I slowly walked along the crest,
fearful that the grating noise of my footsteps breaking
through the crust would alarm the sheep. Reaching the
point where the tracks led down the slope, I saw all of
them two hundred yards below, about to cross a deep
cafion which furrowed the mountain-side. It was 6.30
in the evening and rapidly getting dark. At the first shot
a small ram fell dead. The band rushed closely together
and paused to look. A second shot killed the other ram.
One ewe still stood and looked, while the rest of the band
dashed down into the cafon. As I fired she fell, but rose
and began to run diagonally up the slope. My next two
shots missed and after putting in a clip of cartridges, I
fired again and she fell and rolled.

Quickly going down to the first one killed, I skinned
the hind quarters and cut them off. It was then dark
and I had before me the dangerous task of carrying them
down the. steep, slippery slope. It was finally accom-
plished and that night we again feasted on mutton.

September 24.—The next morning Jefferies went to
bring back the dead sheep, which could be seen from
camp. We intended to take off their skins later. I started
toward the south-east mountains, but after having crossed

THE GLENLYON MOUNTAINS 289

the valley, a snow storm descended and I was obliged to
return to camp. Foxes had completely eaten up the re-
mainder of the ram I had first killed. The two others
were in camp.

September 25-26.—The next day a heavy snow fell all
the morning and a dense fog settled in the afternoon, so
I could not go out. This fog continued also through the
following day. We spent most of the time sitting before
the fire. There wasa fine grove of dry burnt spruces near
the shelter. Dry spruce is the main fuel supply of northern
camps. If thoroughly hard and dry it does not spark,
though it is quickly consumed. After a grove of spruce
is burned over, at least two years are required before the
' charred trunks dry to perfection for burning. Dry balsam
makes a much better fire, burning steadily without a spark,
and is not consumed so quickly. Not often, however, is
the camp pitched where balsam is abundant. Dry poplar
makes a beautiful fire, very hot, no sparks, and steadily
burning. It is the best of all fires for baking bread. But
it smothers in its own ashes, which quickly accumulate,
and for that reason it is not used in a stove if other wood
can be found. Dry willow makes a hot fire, but the smoke
is unendurable. Alder, like poplar, accumulates ash, but
it is the best of all the northern fuel-wood to burn when
green. The most perfect wood is, of course, white birch,
but it is so scarce that it can be eliminated from the fuel
used by the camper in Yukon Territory and Alaska.

September 27.—The fog did not lift until the third day
at noon and I was soon climbing a low mountain south-
west of camp. There was not a track of any kind on the

290 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

snow in the valley, except that of the fox and the rabbit.
Late in the afternoon I saw seven ewes and lambs lying
on the snow on a slope of an adjacent mountain. They
were colored like the others and, after resting, they started
single file for a new feeding-ground, walking, running,
and jumping over the rocks and rough places.

September 28.—I started early and toiled upward to
reach the peak of a high mountain south-east of camp,
hoping finally to find the larger rams, for I wanted a big
one from the Glenlyons. Just before noon I stood on
the apex, fifty-two hundred feet above the river. A vio-
lent storm suddenly descended—a raging snow blizzard—
and I had to hold on to a projecting rock to keep from
being blown off. Fog settled around, and the blasts of
wind whirled the snow in violent eddies about me, filling
my neck and even blowing up the inside of my trousers.
It lasted three hours and I was so cold it did not seem
possible to endure it much longer. ‘The wild desolation
of that blizzard, shutting everything from sight and sus-
pending me in tumultuous clouds, produced a feeling of
profound loneliness. During the storm I heard flocks
of ptarmigan going by, and now and then a croaking
raven. After it cleared, I went down from the peak to the
crest and walked along it all the rest of the day, but saw
no animals. When about to return I started to cross a
steep slope of hard snow lying solid for two hundred
yards, and after going well out in it, it proved steeper
than I had thought and I could look two thousand feet
almost directly down. Without axe or staff, and wearing
rubber shoes with small hobnails, my situation soon be-

THE GLENLYON MOUNTAINS 291

came alarming. Taking out my knife I had to cut steps
through a crust too hard to break with my feet, and my
anxiety was only relieved when I finally stepped upon the
rocks of a ridge I had to cross in order to shorten the
descent to the valley.

September 29.—The next day, the last that I could
spare for hunting in the Glenlyon Mountains, was clear
and cold. Starting early, I walked rapidly up the valley
to the forks of the creek. On a mountain beyond the

forks I saw a single ewe with a lamb, both travelling rap-
idly; the ewe was especially alert and watchful. Often
I have seen these single ewes, detached for one reason
or another from their band, hastening to find it. When
alone they always suffer from intensified sense of danger.

I then climbed a high mountain to the east, and, pass-
ing over its crest, saw on the other side a mountainous
country of rolling slopes filled with canons and ravines,
all leading up to a rough range beyond. Three hundred
yards below me were two ewes, each with a lamb, and
a small ram. Carefully concealing myself among some
rocks, I was interested in testing their sense of hearing.
Several marmots, nearer to them than I was, had been
whistling. The sheep were quite indifferent to the sound.
If there is any animal sound in the Northern wilderness
that can be easily imitated, it is the whistle of the marmot,
and I thought that my whistle was a perfect reproduction
of the original. But when I gave it the sheep at once
threw up their heads and looked. After a few moments
they began to feed. Not fifty yards to my right a marmot
again whistled. ‘They were utterly indifferent. But at

292 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

my second whistle, shortly after, they ran about for a
few feet and looked above and below in anxiety. They
were able to distinguish instantly between the genuine
and the imitation. It must not be inferred, however, that
the marmot’s whistle does not alarm sheep, for often they
receive the sound as a warning and become nervous and
watchful. Then I began to drop pebbles. It was abso-
lutely still and as I threw a small stone on some rocks a
few feet below the sheep at once ran down the slope and
disappeared.

A quarter of a mile beyond were twelve ewes and
lambs and I could trace their tracks coming down from
the high crest beyond. Along their trails the slope, in
places where they had pawed away the snow, had the
appearance of a checker-board. ‘Though keeping a care-
ful lookout in all directions, no one of them acted the part
of a sentinel. “The ewes with lambs would butt the lambs
away if they approached too close to them when they
were feeding. The lambs were pawing away snow just
like the ewes. All were of the color of the other sheep I
had seen in the Glenlyon Mountains. I withdrew without
disturbing them and returned to camp.

September 30.—The next morning we each brought a
load to Jefferies’ cabin.

Sheep are abundant in the Glenlyon Mountains, which
are the most accessible for sheep hunting of any of the
ranges near the Pelly River. But no other kinds of game
were observed, and, except in the spring for bears (whose
old diggings were abundant), the hunting must be limited
to sheep. Fine large willow draws exist everywhere

READY TO LOAD THE CANOE. (GLENLYONS ACROSS RIVER, OCTOBER 2.

an LN
Dsoe Pars

THE GLENLYON MOUNTAINS 293

among the ranges and willow is abundant on all the
slopes. All the Glenlyons are fine ranges for moose, but
I did not see even an old track, nor were any of the wil-
lows mutilated by their browsing. In the lower country
outside of the range, moose signs were abundant.

No signs of caribou were observed. It is strange that
when wolves were so near, no tracks appeared in the
snow above near the sheep. Foxes were more abundant
in the Glenlyons than in any of the country near the Pelly
where I had been.

October 1.—Jefferies went up to the camp the next
day to bring back the rest of the meat, and I tramped
five miles north of the river to a fair-sized lake, more
to see the country than anything else. It had all been
burned over and was full of tangled, fallen timber. While
returning late in the afternoon I must have seen several
hundred rabbits. That year was the period of maxi-
mum abundance of the rabbits, but the following year
they were scarce.

October 2-3.—The river had fallen several inches dur-
ing the time we had been up in the Glenlyons, and all the
trees were bare. The whole country was ready and wait-
ing for winter to seal it up. For the next two days we
paddled without incident, except the sight of two lynxes
at different places on the bank of the river. My bullets
failed to hit them. Lynxes do not appear to be frightened
by a canoe floating by. I have seen many sitting indiffer-
ently on the bank and watching the canoe if it is near
the middle of the river, or crouching in a hiding attitude
if it is close to the bank. That year when rabbits were so

294 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

abundant, we must have passed numerous lynxes with-
out seeing them. So well do they blend with the color
of the rocks on the bars, or with the trunks of the trees
or faded leaves, that it is difficult to detect them.

The second evening we reached the cabin at the
mouth of the MacMillan River, and later Hosfall arrived,
having come from Kalzas Creek for the purpose of wait-
ing for me and of delivering some skulls of sheep and cari-
bou which had been killed in the Kalzas Mountains.
From his description of the color of the sheep there, I
knew they varied exactly like those in the mountains near
the North Fork of the MacMillan. A fine large skull of
a male otter with a note from Mrs. Hosfall, was found
in the cabin. Her experience in killing that otter, whose
skull is now in the Biological Survey in Washington,
merits description.

While occupying the cabin in the latter part of July,
she had a net for salmon stretched across an eddy in the
river. One morning, when her husband was back in the
woods, she saw an otter swimming across the river in the
direction of the net. At the same time, one of her large
dogs noticed it and immediately jumped in and swam to
intercept it. She thought that the otter would get caught
in the net and quickly jumped in her canoe and began
poling toward it. She was not mistaken, for the otter
became entangled in the meshes and was struggling to
get loose when the dog arrived and grabbed it, both going
under the water and struggling in the net. Mrs. Hosfall
quickly arrived, and while one hand held the canoe steady
with the pole, with the other she grasped the dog’s rail

INDIAN GRAVE ON BANK OF PELLY, 25 MILES ABOVE MOUTH OF MACMILLAN, OCTOBER 3.

MOOSE TRAIL ON TOP OF THE MACMILLAN MOUNTAINS, OCTOBER 5.

THE MacMILLAN MOUNTAINS 295

and pulled him into the canoe. His jaws were closed on
the otter, which was hauled in with him, together with
part of the net.

Then dog and otter, both entangled in the net, began
to struggle in the cranky canoe which Mrs. Hosfall had
to balance with nothing but a pole. But she was equal
to it. In some way pulling off the dog, she grasped the
hind leg of the otter and killed it with the pole. Few
men could have successfully accomplished such a feat,
and may this record of it stand as a suggestion of her
skill!

October 4-5.—The next day a rain storm prevented
my setting out to climb the MacMillan Mountains, but
the day after it was clear, and after following for some
distance a trapper’s blazed trail, I struggled through the
timber and began the ascent of the slopes. It was a climb
of three and a half hours from the river to the top, which
was buried under deep snow.

The highest peak of the MacMillan Mountains, an
irregular, dome-shaped crest extending three or more
miles in a semicircle, curving north at its west end, cul-
minates at the extreme western extension of the range. I
found it heart-breaking to wade through the deep snow,
but finally reaching the highest point rested and looked
over the country. All the Kalzas mountains seemed close
on the north-east—rugged granite ranges with serried,
battlemented peaks. I could see Kalzas Lake and the
mountains along the MacMillan River for a long distance.
Broad, deep valleys separated the Kalzas range from the
MacMillan Mountains, and judging by the appearance

296 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

of the country, it must be a fine range for moose. A beau-
tiful view of the junction of the Pelly and MacMillan
Rivers was below me, and the subdued rolling wilderness
stretched out in the distance to the south and west. Still
farther to the west I could faintly see the bluffs near
Pelly Road Crossing, six miles from the Yukon River.

Tramping about I saw no signs of sheep, but caribou
tracks were abundant. A bull moose had crossed over the
mountain that morning or the night before. His deep
trail along the side of the mountain, winding up over the
crest, and continuing down to the timber on the other
side indicated his search for a cow. A wolverine’s tracks
followed the crest for some distance until lost among the
wind-swept rocks. Flocks of ptarmigan were flying about,
but all ground-squirrels were asleep, and I returned to
camp.

October 6-7.—We resumed the canoe trip down the
river, and two days of steady paddling brought us to Sel-
kirk on October 7.

When the Selkirk Indians saw the sheep skins as I
unloaded them, they told me that many of the sheep in |
the mountains near the head of Selwyn River were of a
similar color. One of the Indians had in his cabin two
skins of sheep that he had killed there, and I went to look
at them. ‘They were much lighter in color than the light-
est Pelly Mountain sheep, but intermediate between the
types of Ours fannini and Ours dalli, approximating the
latter. Since the Selkirk Indians find sheep within the
limits of their hunting territory only to the west of the
Yukon River, I regard their statements as to the color of

JuNcTION OF MACMILLAN AND PELLY RIVERS AS SEEN FROM TOP OF MACMILLAN
MOUNTAIN, OCTOBER 5.

MacMILLtan MOUNTAINS, OCTOBER 5.

THE MacMILLAN MOUNTAINS 297

the sheep near the Selwyn River as reliable, and I so ob-
tained a most interesting record.

October g—The steamer Selkirk whistled and I had
to part from Jefferies. It was with deep regret that I
grasped his hand and said good-by. He had been effi-
cient in every way, and, what counts more than anything
else, he had always been cheerful and willing to undertake
the hard work of that eventful summer. During all the
days that I had been hunting, he had been content to
remain in camp while J was getting the sport. I am glad
to record his good qualities.

Travelling without stopping longer than necessary to
make connections by boat and rail, I reached New York
October 24th.

I had established the fact that nearly all sheep on the
mountains adjacent to the Pelly River are of approxi-
mately the same color. Also that those near the Ross
are of the same color as those near the MacMillan. The
Pelly sheep, though variable, are intermediate between
Ovis fannini and Ovis stonei, approaching more nearly
the color of the latter. The sheep near the MacMillan
and Ross Rivers throughout the Selwyn Rockies are so
variable that as a whole their color cannot be defined.
The variation continues on the Stewart River, where
lighter shades begin to predominate farther north. In
the Ogilvies, the intermediate color between Ours fannini
and Ovrs dalli is common, though variations range
between the two, and the majority of the sheep can be
referred to dalli. Not much farther north, all the sheep
are white.

298 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

The type color of Ours fannini is so rare, even in the
mountains from which the type came, that numerous
sheep might be killed before one could be found to coin-
cide with the description. Now and then it exists among
the variables.

I have learned from sources which I accept as reliable,
that the sheep in the Teslin and Atlin Lakes districts are
in color like those on the MacMillan, more variables occur-
ring among them. Nearer the Yukon, lighter colored
sheep predominate, and among the white sheep north of
the Yukon a few intermediates are exceptionally found in
the Watson River country, and perhaps easterly, wherever
sheep exist, as far as the mountains near the head of
Selwyn River. Farther north, west of the Yukon River,
all are white, except for a few gray hairs in the sheep in
the Tanana Hills.

The variation in the color of the sheep in the Yukon
Territory having, therefore, been settled, I resolved tc
make future explorations in the far interior of Alaska.

SJ . Prince mir

‘7 Sound
= . é x
Vian, 1am

Seward SH
Pu

3 A uontacue

L.L. POATES, ENG

Map oF YUKON TI

Outs fannini, Type. Ovts stonez, Type.

Distribution Areas.

A—Occupied by Fig. 1
(Ovis dalli) exclusively.

B—Ogilvie Rockies occu-
pied by Figs. 2-3-4,
exceptionally Fig. 5 in
eastern section. Figs. 2
and 3 greatly in the ma-
jority. Between Yukon
and Tanana Rivers oc-
cupied mostly by Fig. 2
with much less black on
tail, occasionally Fig. 1.
West of Lewes River oc-
cupied by Figs. 1 and 2
in the majority. Figs.
2-3-4-5 exceptionally.

C—Occupied by Figs. 2-
374-50 fe > Figs. 3=
4-5-6 most common.
Intermediate colors be-
tween 2 and 3 equally
common.

D—Occupied by Figs. 4-
5-6-7-8. - Figs. 5-6-7
in the majority. Ten-
dency toward lighter
colors in the north.
Fig. 4 exceptional in the
north, still more so tow-
ard the south. Fig. 9
occasionally in the
south.

Occupied by

(Ovis stonei). Rarely
Figs. 6 and 7 are found
in this area.

Fic. 8.
PLATE ILLUSTRATING DISTRIBUTION OF SHEEP IN AREAS INDICATED ON MAP.

figures 1-s-o were drawn from the Types. The other figures are from specimens illustrating the average colors, but
actually every intermediate graduation of color occurs respectively between each.

it oa ae
Katalla

CSch
KAYAK Ste

Sualin

.

SCALE OF MILES
20 40 oo BO OT 10 140

Hunting Camps are shown thus @ anc

Jie
0 Longitude me West from

PLATE ILLUSTRATING DISTRIBUTION

Figures 1-s-o were drawn from the Types =
actually every inte! <s

4 Map or YUKON TERRITORY, ADJACENT PORTIONS OF ALASKA, British CoLumBiA, AND Norru-west TERRITORIES
Second provisional map of the distribution of sheep according to their. lors is illustrated by the colored areas, the boundaries of which are, in places, only approximate. See Appendix F.

CHAP TER XX

REMARKS ON SOME OF THE ANIMALS OF YUKON
TERRITORY

THE preceding narrative records accurately the animal
life observed during my wanderings in Yukon Territory.
In this chapter I have assembled not only some of the
facts mentioned, but also those gained from other reliable
sources.

SHEEP *

The habits of all sheep on this continent, existing
north of the range of the Rocky Mountain sheep Ours
canadensis, are the same except in so far as they are
slightly varied by local topographic and food conditions
and by the accumulation of snow on their ranges during
the winter. The environment and the climatic conditions
where they live are practically the same, their natural
enemies are the same, and they select and eat the same
food. All dwell above timber-line, and by nature are
timid and wild.

Their body measurements, according to age and sex,
allowing for slight individual variations in size, are prac-
tically the same.

The same statement applies to the size and character
of their horns. The first Stone sheep brought out from

* The remarks in this chapter are preliminary to a fuller discussion of habits
in a future publication.
299

300 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

‘

the Stikine River region had the diverging or ‘‘spread”’
type of horns, and this, therefore, was assigned to them
as a definite character. But among the numerous speci-
mens coming from the same region during subsequent
years, the narrow type of horns has probably been more
common.

The diverging type of horns is found in all localities
where sheep exist, though in some districts it is more
common than in others. I did not see the diverging type
among the sheep on the Pelly River, though undoubtedly
it exists there. It is common among those at the head
of the MacMillan and Stewart Rivers, and in the Ogilvie
Rockies. It is particularly common in that part of the
Yukon Territory close to the coast ranges and directly
east of them. But, everywhere, the narrow type of horns
is more abundant; sometimes both types occur together
in the same band; sometimes all the members of a band
have one type of horns, while all the sheep of another
band in the same locality have the other type.

What is true of the comparative divergence of the
horns is equally true of their comparative length, circum-
ference, and shape. In some districts, including the
Pelly River and the Ogilvie Rockies, horns of large basal
circumference (fifteen inches or more) are most excep-
tional. Big horns are more common in those districts
where the diverging type is most abundant.

It thus appears that the northern sheep, wherever they
live, are subject to essentially the same conditions of en-
vironment and climate; their food and enemies are es-
sentially the same, and their natures, their habits, their

SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 301

horns, and their body measurements do not differ materi-
ally. It remains to examine their skulls and to study their
variations in color.

Difference in skull characters have been detected
among sheep in three widely separate areas: the Stikine
River region, the east slope of the Mackenzie Rockies, the
whole of the areas inhabited by sheep elsewhere; but as
yet no satisfactory study has been made, since the avail-
able series of adult skulls from each locality have not been
brought together for careful comparison. Such a com-
parison may result in the elimination of most of the sup-
posed differences, and under any circumstances, by skull
characters alone, the sheep could only be separated into
weak subspecies. At the present time only one positive
statement can be made. The differences in skull char-
acters are slight.

The northern sheep do not undergo seasonal changes
in color, but they do present marked individual and local
color variations, the study of which is beset by perplexing
problems. In this connection a few words on the distri-
bution of sheep in the Yukon Territory will be helpful.
A detailed description of distribution cannot be given
in the space of this chapter, and besides, the exact topog-
raphy in many areas and the occurrence of sheep in each
are not known. Nevertheless, facts sufficient for a few
generalizations have come under my observation.

Except within the humid belt of the Coast Ranges,
sheep exist on nearly all the mountains which rise rough
and rocky, well above timber-line. Sheep do not live on
lower mountains, the areas of which above timber-line

302 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

are smooth and unbroken. Sheep are most abundant in
those regions where the mountains are continuous and
connected. Hence they occur in greatest numbers on the
ranges, including their direct lateral connections, east of
the Alaska Coast Range—near the heads of the Slims,
Donjek, and White Rivers. Next they are most abun-
dant on the Pelly Mountains (including the Glenlyons),
and those parts of the Ogilvies not hunted to supply meat
for Dawson and miners in the same vicinity. Elsewhere
in the Territory the high mountains are complex groups,
rather than continuous ranges, and the number of sheep
inhabiting regions of this character is comparatively more
limited.

The regions where sheep exist are divided into ‘‘sheep
ranges,” each of which is very limited*(only a few miles)
in area, and occupied by a group of sheep which pass
their lives on the same range, precisely as do cattle in the
unfenced portions of the West. Except for some mingling
at the borders between neighboring groups, each colony
of sheep keeps to its own range. ‘The sheep cling so tena-
ciously to their ranges, that a destructive enemy, like
man, usually exterminates them before they will leave. If
driven off temporarily, most of them soon return. It is
a mistake to think that sheep are driven from one region
to another. Aggressive hunting kills off most of the
group, and only a very small proportion migrate to other
ranges. This is particularly true in regions where the
mountain ranges are not continuous. But when the num-
ber of sheep on a range increases and crowds the food
supply, a gradual overflow to other regions takes place,

* This depends on winter conditions and topography. In some areas
there may be a migration of sheep for longer distances to winter ranges.

SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 303

and this overcrowding also causes an irregular migration
of sheep over areas inhabited by them.

Therefore, all through the territory where sheep for-
merly existed near routes of travel or Indian villages, or
where their ranges were easily accessible to Indian hunt-
ing or mining districts, they have become scarce or ex-
tinct. Such active hunting of them, however, has re-
cruited adjacent regions only in a limited degree.

The type of Ours stoner was killed in the Cheonee
Mountains south of the Stikine River in British Columbia.
These sheep have been traced south near the head of the
South Fork of the Stikine to the Iskoot River, not far
from the head of the Nass River.* The extreme southern
and eastern range is not known. It is probably between
latitude 55 degrees and 56 degrees, and west of longitude
126 degrees.

The grayish color of the back and chest extends up
the neck to the face, and nearly all the sheep in the re-
gions south of the Stikine are uniformly colored. I know
of two sheep, killed near the type locality, which had white
necks and heads, and so much white hair intermixed with
the gray of the back that they were similar in color to
many of the sheep of the Pelly Mountains. Therefore,
it is fair to infer that there must be other exceptional cases
of light color among them. ‘These sheep south of the Sti-
kine extend their range northward along the main Cassiar
range, probably crossing to it in the vicinity of the Dease
River. It is possible that some cross the Stikine directly
from the Cheonee Mountains, and reach the Sheslay
River district on the north, although there is probably an

* See map of color distribution and Appendix F.
+ More correctly between latitudes 56 and 57 degrees, and west of longi-

’ j - a
tuGe 122 Gegrces.

304 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

overflow of migration southward to that region from the
Cassiars near Dease River.

We are familiar with sheep directly north of the Sti-
kine River, which come from the Sheslay River region.
Here some have the typical color of Stone sheep, but
many have so many white hairs intermingled with the
gray on the neck that they resemble closely the sheep of
the Pelly Mountains, and often very light-colored sheep
are found among them. From this region the most unin-
terrupted mountain route for sheep to travel is north-east
through the Cassiar range, on to the Pelly Mountains,
Glenlyon Mountains, and across the Pelly River near the
Tay River to the Rose Mountains.*

Directly north of the Sheslay River district are serious
barriers of lakes—Atlin, Teslin, the Taku Arm of Lake
Bennett and numerous other small lakes. Also the moun-
tains in that district are in groups, separated by wide
valleys, rather than in continuous ranges. Here sheep
are comparatively scarce, only small bands occurring in
a few of the mountain groups. ‘The last group of moun-
tains, west of Atlin Lake, that are inhabited by enough
sheep to be called ‘‘sheep mountains,” are near Big
Horn Creek at the south end of the Taku arm of Lake
Bennett. Between Teslin River and the Lewes, sheep are
very scarce. Throughout this region the sheep vary in

ce

color exactly as they do in the Selwyn Rockies—present-
ing various degrees of color between white and dark gray.
Between Big Horn Creek and the Watson River country
north of Lake Bennett, the barriers of lakes and wide
timbered valleys prevent continuous travel back and forth,

* Mr. McConnell has written me that in the direction of Teslin Lake the
Cassiars die away. The connection, if any, of the Cassiars to the Pelly
Mountains is not therefore certain.

SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 305

and probably the few sheep that cross this area, either
from the north or from the south, are scattered and driven
from their ranges. Sheep do not enter the humid belt
of the continuous Coast Ranges.

That sheep do cross the barriers is proved by the fact
that occasionally one of intermediate color is found among
the white Dall sheep on the Watson River, and Dall sheep
are sometimes found among the variables near Big Horn
Creek, and even farther south. In the Watson River
country, some of the sheep are pure white with black tails,
a very few have gray hairs mingled in the back, but most
of them are pure white including the tails. Directly west
of the Watson River region—west of longitude 136 de-
grees and south of latitude 62 degrees—all the sheep are
pure white.

Just north of latitude 62 degrees, near the head of the
Selwyn River, a few of the sheep have enough gray hairs
on the back to suggest the pattern area of coloration. I
have not been able to get many facts about the occurrence
of sheep between the Selwyn River and the Watson River.
Sheep, however, are known to cross the Thirty Mile
River (that part of the Lewes River between Lake Le
Barge and the mouth of the Teslin), and it is quite pos-
sible that some of the variables between the Teslin River
and the Lewes mingle among the sheep west of Thirty
Mile, and hence influence the colors northward to the
Selwyn River. Sheep do not cross the Yukon River
south of the vicinity of Eagle in Alaska.

The natural route of uninterrupted sheep travel north-
ward from the Stikine River is directly through the Cas-

306 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

siar range, along and across the Pelly River to the Rose
Mountains. The color of the sheep occupying the moun-
tains parallel with the Pelly River is similar to that of the
sheep in the Sheslay River region, except that more have
white necks, and more have a larger proportion of white
hairs mixed with the gray of the back. A series of skins
from both regions would show a general similarity, more
specimens with dark necks occurring among the sheep
from the Sheslay River, and more with light necks among
those from the Pelly River. Neither series would show
uniform coloration, each varying between light and dark
within narrow limits. Dark and light sheep occur excep-
tionally in both districts.

The only route of travel for sheep, between the Pelly
River and the heads of the MacMillan and Ross Rivers,
is through the mountainous region between the Pelly and
the MacMillan (the southward extension of the Selwyn
Rockies). Immediately north of Rose Mountains the
country is so broken that few sheep inhabit the region.
The mountains, mostly dome-shaped, are separated by
wide valleys. In the main ranges, the Selwyns, the com-
plex groups are more connected and rougher, and there
sheep are more abundant. Throughout the Selwyns, the
color of the sheep is extremely variable, the same bands
containing sheep approximating the white dall:, and the
dark stoner, and every degree of intermediate color, includ-
ing the so-called fanninz.

The topography of the country between the Selwyn
Rockies and the Ogilvies is not accurately known, nor are
exact limits assigned to each range, but sheep travel be-

SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 307

tween the two ranges, probably in the water-shed between
the Stewart and Peel Rivers. Owing to wide valleys and
other features of topography, the travel back and forth is
probably not extensive. The Ogilvies, however, are con-
tinuous uninterrupted ranges like the Pelly Mountains,
and toward the north the color of the sheep rapidly
becomes white. At the head of Coal Creek the grayish
pattern is faint and many of the sheep are pure white
with black tails. The darkest sheep of the region are
intermediate between fannini and dalli. The exact point
north where none of the sheep show traces of gray is not
determined, but it cannot be far, and we know that all
sheep north and west of the Porcupine River are white.

The sheep west of Eagle and in the Tanana Hills,
between the Yukon and Tanana Rivers, are mostly pure
white, though some have enough dark hairs to suggest a
pattern area. In the same region, along the ranges west
of longitude 146 degrees, all the sheep are pure white.
It is not known whether sheep from the Selwyn River
have ever travelled northward to this region, or whether
sheep from the Ogilvies have crossed the Yukon River.
There are places below Eagle where sheep have been seen
on the ridges bordering the Yukon River.

Now follows a most interesting and significant fact.
That portion of the Mackenzie Rockies, extending parallel
with the Mackenzie River water-shed, is an uninterrupted
series of continuous ranges as far as the head of the Peel
River. Sheep are abundant in all this area, including the
Nahanni Mountains in the south, not only to the Peel
River, but also continuously to the mountains west of the

308 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

Mackenzie Delta on the north. All these sheep, including
those ranging parallel with the sheep of variable colors
in the Selwyn Rockies west of the divide, are pure white.
Joseph Keele, who made a special study of the distribu-
tion of sheep at the head of the Ross and Stewart Rivers,
and also of those east of the divide, asserts positively that
in those regions, owing to climatic conditions and areas
destitute of vegetation, sheep never cross the divide. It
is probable that further investigations along the divide,
both north and south, will show that sheep do not cross
anywhere except, perhaps, far to the north. This view
is supported by the fact that all sheep on the Mackenzie
side are white, which would not be the case were there
any intermingling.

Where gray, brown, or black hairs occur on the sheep,
these hairs are within the pattern area emphasized in
Ovis stoner. The dark hairs are most persistent in the
tail and least persistent in the head and neck. Next
they are most persistent on the mid-dorsal line directly
above the tail; next on the back, ventral border extending
to the chest, and on the front sides of all the legs. When
I speak of sheep as pure white, it is never strictly true,
since a careful search will always reveal a few dark hairs
in the tail, and often above on the dorsal line, and more
rarely on the back. ‘This is true even of the sheep along
the Arctic coast mountains, specimens of which I have
recently examined.

Let us sum up the facts here presented.

All the sheep of Alaska are uniformly pure white,
except occasional specimens between the Yukon and

SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 309

Tanana Rivers east of longitude 146 degrees. There are
no other exceptions.

Throughout the Mackenzie Rockies, within the Mac-
kenzie water-shed south farther than latitude 62 degrees,
sheep are pure white.

In the Yukon Territory, all sheep north of latitude
66 degrees, south of latitude 62 degrees, and west of
longitude 136 degrees, are pure white. Pure white sheep
greatly preponderate west of the Lewes and Yukon
Rivers.

The sheep south and east of the Stikine River in
British Columbia are uniformly dark with occasional
exceptions.

From the Sheslay River region north of the Stikine
River, north along the uninterrupted area of travel through
the Cassiar ranges and the Pelly River region, there is a
more general uniformity of color, more lighter sheep
occurring along the Pelly River.

In the Ogilvie Rockies the tendency toward white pre-
vails increasingly toward the west and north.

Throughout the Selwyn Rockies, and in the region
between the Sheslay River district and the Lewes River,
the color of the sheep is extremely variable.

Generally, variation in color occurs in some of the
regions west of the Yukon water-shed, east of longi-
tude 136 degrees, between latitudes 58 degrees and 65
degrees.

The facts indicate that, within the areas of color vari-
ation, sheep inhabiting the continuous unbroken ranges
have a tendency toward uniform colors, while those in-

310 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

habiting regions where the mountain ranges are broken,
having the character of complex groups separated by
wide valleys, tend to vary.

No positive conclusions can be drawn from the known
facts about the colors of sheep until science has revealed
more knowledge of the causes of color variation. I know
of no case among the large mammals of this continent
analogous to the colors of these sheep.

According to the theory* of “ Protective” or ‘‘Conceal-
ing” coloration—a theory developed and elaborated with
great detail, and universally applied, by Abbott Thayer in
his book on Concealing Coloration in the Animal King-
dom—the colors of sheep must result from Natural Selec-
tion acting through long periods of time, continually exter-
minating sheep possessing a color easily observed by their
enemies, and preserving the sheep having colors which
conceal them from their enemies. Mr. Thayer insists
that this has resulted specially in animal coloration that is
most obliterative, for enemy or prey, at the moment when
the enemy is about to seize its victim—the last rush, the
last spring, when sight alone is necessary for success.

*I do not use the word theory as applicable to the facts of Mr. Thayer’s
analysis of animal colors in their relations to certain backgrounds. But, as a
cardinal point, he insists that animal coloration is principally obliterative against
the background when ‘animals are on the verge of catching or being caught.”
Since the exact conditions of attack, capture or escape between enemy and prey
are in many cases unknown, many of the matching backgrounds, which Mr.
Thayer describes as those in which the attack takes place, must be assumed. It
is not, however, proved that such are the backgrounds which oppose the attack,
and, therefore, I use the word ‘“‘theory”’ to include the facts together with the
unproved assumptions. Writing subsequently on the subject, Mr. Thayer ob-
serves that his book might have been called “‘An expert’s presentation of ex-
amples of consummate resemblances between animals’ costumes and certain of
their backgrounds,” To such a definition the word ‘“‘theory” would not apply.—
C. SHELDON,

SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 311

With the eye of the artist, no doubt, Mr. Thayer has an-
alyzed remarkably well the obliterative colors of the
animal kingdom in their relations to lights and shades,
and of blending under certain conditions with their back-
ground. His analysis reveals some important discoveries.
His book presents an array of facts—animal coloration in
relation to matching certain backgrounds, analyzed ac-
cording to the laws of the science of optics—which I fully
believe must revolutionize not only many of the precon-
ceived notions on the subject, but must also destroy some
of the theories which, in the attempt to determine the
causes of animal coloration, have been widely accepted.
It seems to be a necessary inference from Mr. Thayer’s
writings that concealing coloration has been exclusively
produced by the relations between predatory animals
and their prey.*

It may be granted (though by no means to the extent
and under all the circumstances that Mr. Thayer asserts)
that all animals more or less, according to certain con-
ditions, blend with their background. The question is,
What are the causes which produce such harmony?

Let us apply Mr. Thayer’s theory to the sheep.

All the northern sheep live in regions where the snow-
fall is practically the same. Above timber-line, where
they continually live, the country is in general the same,

* Mr. Thayer, while repeatedly asserting his own positive belief that the Con-
cealing Colors of animals result exclusively from a process of Natural Selection
which has established the most favorable balance of color between predatory
animals and their prey, admits in at least two places in his book the possibility of
other causes. In fact, he writes me that while he deeply believes the cause to be
Natural Selection, he has given a wrong idea to any one who thinks that he
lays stress on its being the modus operandi of all color matching. He emphasizes
only the color matching itself —C. SHELDON.

312 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

though in regions and localities the rock colors vary
equally throughout their range in the north.

Owing to the character of the country in which these
sheep live and to their habits, it is of the utmost impor-
tance to their enemies to detect them from a distance by
sight before making an attempt to capture them. ‘The fol-
lowing observations are based upon the angle of vision
from which sheep are seen by man. ‘The broken, moun-
tainous country which sheep inhabit, however, is such
that their enemies more often see them against a back-
ground of rock, slope, or ground surface (looking down
on them from above), rather than against a background
of cloud and sky. Hence for purposes of detection, these
observations apply for the most part to all the enemies
of sheep. For purposes of capture, they apply to all
enemies of sheep except the wolf; but even to the wolf,
they usually apply.

If the pelage of white sheep were to remain immacu-
late, the animal would be conspicuous in summer any-
where above timber. But, except for a short time during
the month of November, the pelage is badly stained, and
this staining causes the white sheep to become quite
inconspicuous in some regions where the rock colors are
in harmony with it—as in the Ogilvie Rockies, for ex-
ample. But in other regions, where the rock colors are
darker, the stained white sheep are so extremely con-
spicuous that on mountain-slopes they can be easily seen
two and three miles distant, and nearer than half a mile
they form a striking contrast to the background. This is
true among the mountains bordering the coast ranges in

SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 313

Yukon Territory and Alaska, and in the whole of the —
Alaska Range. White sheep are always conspicuous on
green slopes and pastures. They are inconspicuous on
snow, although their stained coats, throughout all the win-
ter, spring, and fall, except November, render a strong
contrast against the white background.

The dark sheep, except against a background of sky,
are never conspicuous in summer, their color blending
well with rocks and green slopes. From. a distance they
are most easily detected by their light rumps. But in
the snow, under nearly all circumstances, they are exceed-
ingly conspicuous.

The sheep of variable color are still less conspicuous,
except on snow where they are nearly as conspicuous as
the dark sheep.

All the northern sheep, dark or white, are inconspicu-
ous either when feeding among willows, or especially
when the surface background is banded or striped with
snow, or when bare areas are thickly patched with snow.
This applies to the majority of the time in spring, fall, and
winter when sheep always seek the wind-swept parts of
the mountains to find their food.

When the dark of evening approaches, both white
and dark sheep are usually conspicuous on the sky-line.
In the twilight, during the darker hours of the night in
summer, the white sheep are very much more con-
spicuous below the sky-line than the dark ones. During
the night and all through the dark hours of fall and
winter, sheep are lying down resting. ‘They move and
feed only during the hours of daylight.

314 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

When travelling in winter with a dog team, my dogs
repeatedly scented sheep on the mountain sides from a
distance of more than two miles, and always, if the wind
was favorable, saw the sheep long before I could detect
them. The enemies of all the sheep are the same—the
golden eagle, the wolf, lynx, wolverine, and possibly
the fox. In the north, bears never hunt or prey upon
sheep. Sheep have no other natural enemies.

The eagle preys only on the lambs and on them only
until they are six weeks or two months old. After that,
neither sheep nor eagles pay any attention to each other.

The wolf is not very persistent in hunting sheep, prefer-
ring rather the caribou and the moose. He catches sheep
by chasing them on the smooth parts of their range, usually
on the rolling hills of the basins, the pastures of the divides
between mountains above timber-line, and sometimes on
the level bars of a glacial river. He sometimes drives them
off smooth mountains and catches them when they cross
the low intervening country in their efforts to reach a high
mountain beyond. ‘The wolf, in his effort to detect sheep
feeding or travelling in places favorable for catching them,
roams on the ridges, lower mountain-slopes, and even the
flat country above timber. He begins to run from a dis-
tance toward the sheep, in the hope of catching one.
But if the sheep succeed in reaching a steep mountain-
slope or a ridge broken by rocks, the wolf never attempts
to follow them upward. On smooth mountain-slopes the
wolf always goes above the sheep and chases them down-
ward, attempting to catch one before they can turn and
go above the enemy. Wolves usually chase the youngest

SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 315

of the sheep—those which are less than three years old,
but more often those which are less than two years old.

The lynx watches the sheep, for hours, if necessary, and
after sneaking to a point toward which sheep are moving,
crouches upon a rock and, as a sheep passes, attempts to
leap upon its back.

I have no facts as to the method of the wolverine’s
attack, but, its gait being slow and awkward, the attack
must be by concealment and pouncing from above. There
is a positive record, reported by so reliable a man as Joseph
Keele, of a wolverine concealing itself in the branches of
a spruce tree and leaping on the back of a moose.*

After observing foxes in the sheep country for several
years, and after numerous examinations of their stomachs
and the refuse about their dens, I have no evidence indi-
cating that they attempt to prey upon sheep, old or young.
During several months’ observation where sheep were
abundant and when the snow was on the ground, fox
tracks never suggested that foxes hunt sheep. It may be
possible that they sometimes take lambs.

It is doubtful if sheep are attacked in the dark, since
at that time they are resting high on a mountain in rough
places safe from their enemies.

Thus the eagle and the lynx attack sheep from above.
The wolverine probably attacks in the same way. At the
critical moment of capture, therefore, the sheep is seen,
by his most persistent enemies, from above.

Mr. Thayer lays special stress on the angle of vision
from which enemies see their prey at this crucial moment

* Forest and Stream, Vol. LXXI, p. 971, December 19, 1908.

316 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

of catching it. He asserts that white top-patterns on
animals (including sheep) have an obliterating effect
when seen from below at such an angle as to bring the
white against sky and cloud (and even snow). I think
that finally it will be admitted that Mr. Thayer correctly
states this optical principle. There may, however, be
many cases of doubt as to its practical application.

It could only be of service to the sheep in escaping from
a wolf, and only at times when the latter is trying to catch
older sheep under conditions when the white is in such a
position in the wolf’s line of sight as to bring the white
marking against a background of sky or snow. It would
not apply when a wolf catches young sheep (which is
usually the case) whose white patterns, unless the sheep
were running upward, are below his line of vision.
Nor would it always apply when sheep are seeking to
escape by running downward. Therefore, though the
advantages of these white-top patterns are true as a fact
of optics, I have not observed that these white markings
are of much practical advantage to sheep.

Nor do I believe that white top-markings on other
animals have been developed because of their oblitera-
tive advantages to the animal. One of my reasons for this
disbelief consists in the fact that such advantages, if
they are practical, may endanger the young of animals
inhabiting treeless plains (and also the young of sheep),
and threaten the welfare of the race to an extent that off-
sets the advantages to the adults. The young of the ani-
mal as well as the enemy would see the white of the adult
against the sky, and still more, the white markings on

SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 317

the young would be observed by the enemy from above
rather than from below, and hence offer an effective target
for attack. Not only would the attack be more apt to
be directed against the young, but even when directed
unsuccessfully at the adult (attacks fail far oftener than
they succeed), during the immediate flight the white top-
markings would deceive not only the enemy, but also the
young who might lose their parents and remain unpro-
tected against a pursuing enemy who could see the white
marking of the young against a dark background.

The dark sheep have light rumps. Mr. Thayer would
argue that these dark sheep have excellent concealing
colors except sometimes on the snow, but even on the
snow, at the final dash of the enemy, their backs would
be turned in sudden flight and the rumps would blend
with the sky or snow background and thus conceal them
at the critical moment. But since there is fully as much
snow on the mountains in the regions inhabited by dark
sheep as in those inhabited by white sheep, and it remains
on the surface practically as long, why has one species
been developed white and the other with white only on
the rump? If enemies cause the coloration, then the
same enemies should act to develop the colors of all the
northern sheep. Therefore, the same cause has produced
not only two opposite colors, pure white and black, but
also, and over vast areas, a variety of intermediate colors.
Under numerous conditions the protective values of the
opposite colors are contradictory.

As applicable to the northern sheep, therefore, we
must dismiss theories suggesting that animal colors

318 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

are caused by ‘Natural Selection” of their protective
values.

The white rump patch on sheep has been called a
directive marking, as it enables the members of a band
quickly to recognize one another under varied conditions.
If, owing to their natural color, the white sheep do not
need a directive marking when they are so conspicuous
for four months in summer, then likewise the dark sheep
do not need a directive marking when they are so con-
spicuous during the eight months when the snow is on
the ground. It is undoubtedly true that sheep take
advantage of recognition marks, just as they take advan-
tage of their color under conditions where it is protective.
But I cannot believe that these recognition marks on the
dark northern sheep have been developed by a process of
Natural Selection favoring those which possess the white
rump patch, since a vast majority of the sheep, being
white, do not have a directive marking which would be
advantageous to them for two-thirds of the year, while the
dark sheep have need of one for only one-third of the year.
Such a process of Natural Selection would not, under the
similar conditions affecting all the northern sheep, pro-
duce contradictory color results.

The similarity of the sheep north of the range of Ours
canadensis, except in color, indicates that all came from a
common ancestor. It is believed that originally American
wild sheep migrated from Asia. ‘The persistence of dark
hairs in the pelage of all white sheep would suggest that
the common ancestor was a dark animal. The close
relation of these northern American sheep to those of

SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 319

Kamschatka, Ovis nivicola, suggests that all sheep from
north-eastern Asia, and north-western America north of
latitude 55 degrees, descended from the same parent
type. Whether in past geologic ages sheep of a uniform
dark color were separated by topographic and climatic
barriers long enough to cause a differentiation in color;
whether such a separation occurred before or after the
migration; whether in later ages the barriers were lifted
and a reversion in color progressed, or the sheep gradu-
ally intermingled—all such theories are in the field of
speculation.

From my point of view, however, the facts indicate,
during the present age, a gradual intermingling and inter-
breeding between the dark and white sheep, resulting in
the variations in color. After studying for several years
the nature and habits of these sheep, I am convinced that
among all the color varieties there is no racial antagonism
to interbreeding. Whenever, during the rut, a dark ram
has strayed from its range and joined the white ewes, it
has impregnated some of them. Likewise, white rams
have impregnated dark ewes, and ewes straying among
rams of a different color have been impregnated.

The colors are most variable where the routes of travel
are interrupted by unfavorable topographical conditions
—between the Pelly River and Ogilvie Rockies, and be-
tween Sheslay River district and Lewes River. In those
regions limited bands of white and dark sheep met, inter-
bred, and scattered throughout those sections of the
country. Their offspring were of mixed colors, and they
were continually receiving new accessions both from the

320 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

white sheep on the north and the dark sheep on the
south. Gradually these interbreeds extended their range
(always in limited numbers, for the areas are not suitable
for abundance of sheep) both toward the north where the
dark colors are swamped by the preponderance of white
sheep, and toward the south where dark sheep prepon-
derate and swamp the light colors. Thus traces of the
dark pattern exist, rapidly dying out, among the white
sheep of the north, while the opposite is true in the south.
As soon as the interbreeds reach the continuous ranges
the variable colors are rapidly lost, and the result is a
tendency toward uniformity in color within narrow limits.
In the regions of uniform dark color, individuals are
exceptionally found which have either reverted in color
or have strayed there. Sheep do not cross the divide
of the Mackenzie River water-shed, hence the sheep in
the continuous ranges on the Mackenzie side remain pure
white, notwithstanding the fact that they range parallel
with the variables on the Yukon side.

Between the regions where typical Ows dalli and
typical Ours stonei exist—a distance north and south of
approximately six hundred and fifty miles, and of vari-
able width east and west—there is no geographical area
in which the color of the sheep is uniform. Within that
intermediate region the uniformity of either species is
destroyed, and the individuals must be referred to one
or the other according to their color leanings.

It is the generally accepted view that all species are the
products of evolution. ‘True intergradation is so common
that it is only necessary to mention it. As species of the

SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 321

same genera extend their ranges and reach different con-
ditions of climate and environment, or become isolated,
they tend to differentiate more or less according to their
plasticity and the degree or character of the change in
environment. Asa result, geographical races are formed,
gradually changing from one area to another, until the
extremes may be widely different. Near the border-line
between the geographical races there is an intermingling
and—where two forms come close together—no doubt
interbreeding, which results in intergrades referable to the
race which they most closely resemble on either side of
the border. But, within the geographical areas, the differ-
ing characters are sufficiently uniform to mark a race,
though there may be individual variation. Where species
of the same genera differ and intergrades are unknown,
it is either because the intergrades have not been found
or they have not survived.

Sometimes the difference in environment, physical and
climatic, is so subtle as to be indeterminate. It is pos-
sible that the variation in the colors of the sheep is thus
produced, by subtle and indeterminate changes of envi-
ronment, to a much greater extent than the facts seem
to me to indicate. A wider and more thorough famili-
arity with the facts of intergradation might cause me
to change my present belief, that at some time in the past
either the intergrading forms between the Dall and the
Stone sheep disappeared, or that the extremes of dark
and white were produced by long isolation, in different
environments, owing to the interposition of barriers be-
tween sheep of similar color; or from some other cause;

322 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

and that the existing variations are the result of the grad-
ual extension of the ranges of sheep of the two extreme
types of color, with consequent interbreeding. At least,
even if the different colors of sheep are caused by their
environment, interbreeding must still be a factor in pro-
ducing such irregular variations.

CARIBOU

Two well-marked species of caribou in Yukon Ter-
ritory have been determined—the Barren Ground, Rangi-
fer arcticus, and the woodland, so-called Rangifer os-
borni. At present there is not sufficient material in our
public institutions to define accurately the exact relation
between these two types and the other named species of
caribou in British Columbia and Alaska. The life-history
of no other large animal in the north is so difficult to
observe as that of the caribou, and it would require special
investigations extending over several years to determine
accurately their distribution and habits.

The caribou in the Ogilvie Rockies is the true Barren
Ground type. It is smaller in body and skull than the
woodland type, its horns are less diverging and lighter in
beam, although many of the horns of both types have
characters so identical that the resemblance is complete.
The only difference in the habits of the two types con-
sists in the Barren Ground caribou’s tendency to wander
more restlessly over a wider area, and especially in its
banding together in the fall and migrating. In Yukon
Territory its habits are similar to those of its neighbor
in the Barren Grounds of Canada, except in so far as the

SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 323

habits vary to suit the mountainous country in which
the Yukon animal roams.

Scattered bands, always restless, travelling among
mountains, always feeding and resting above timber-line,
are found all summer throughout its range. In the fall
large bands assemble far in the north and begin to mi-
grate southward, passing through the Ogilvies in Novem-
ber and December. The main band, numbering between
fifteen and twenty thousand—perhaps more—has pro-
vided the greater part of the winter supply of game meat
for Dawson and the mining camps of the Klondike.
After the winter hunters had disturbed this band for a
few years, the caribou changed their route of migration
farther to the east along the Peel River water-shed. In
March the majority return northward. Numerous other
small bands keep wandering about the Ogilvies during
the fall and winter. Formerly, during the migrations,
large bands of caribou crossed the Yukon River in the
vicinity of Eagle, but at present this habit of crossing
seems to have ceased.

I have been unable to determine the limits of the
southern range of these caribou. Probably it does not
pass from the Ogilvies to the Selwyn Rockies. The
Barren Ground caribou range well to the south on the
Mackenzie side of the divide, and Mr. Keele advises me
that he has seen them near the head of the Pelly River.
A few may cross the divide in that latitude. But none
are found elsewhere in the Selwyns, unless very near the
Ogilvies.

The woodland caribou, Rangifer osborni, exists

324 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

throughout the Cassiars and the Selwyn Rockies. It does
not occur in the Pelly Mountains or the Glenlyons. It
is abundant in the mountain groups between the Pelly
and the MacMillan and in the mountains near the South
Fork of the MacMillan. It prefers mountains of a sub-
dued type with smooth, dome-like summits free from too
much erosion. Its favorite ranges are quite locally dis-
tributed in the regions it inhabits. It keeps within a
definite habitat and, though restless and roaming in its
habits, it does not gather in large bands and migrate.
During the winter, however, scattered bands often gather
to the number of two or three hundred and range in a
well-defined route of travel over a limited area, usually
less than a hundred miles.

A woodland type of caribou inhabits the Teslin Lake
country, but no specimens have been examined. Also
the same type inhabits locally many districts west of
the Lewes River and becomes abundant near the coast
ranges at the head of the Donjek and White Rivers. If
specimens of these caribou could be compared, they
would probably be referable to Rangifer stonei of Alaska
which, when sufficient material has been secured, may
prove to be identical with Rangifer osborni. It is my
belief that greater series of specimens, brought together
for comparison, will so resemble each other that it will
be difficult to separate them, and perhaps all caribou of
this woodland type may prove to be closely related to the
Barren Ground type.

SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 325

MOOSE

Moose, except in localities where they have been
driven away from populous centres, exist throughout the
timbered regions of the Territory. They are most abun-
dant in the Selwyn Rockies, Pelly Mountains, and the
region of the upper Liard River. They are almost
equally abundant near the heads of the Donjek and
White Rivers. They are very abundant in the Ogil-
vies, and less so in the forested country of low relief.
I never heard of moose, caribou, sheep, or grizzly bears
existing within the humid belt of the coast ranges.
Moose have been seen at Log Cabin near the White Pass
Railroad.

- Their principal food is the willow. Notwithstanding
much skepticism, they sometimes eat grass. I have
killed moose when they were specially feeding on grass,
and have found quantities of it in their stomachs. Dur-
ing the summer and fall they feed much in the lakes.

When their ranges are among high mountains, after
August, when the flies are gone, their favorite haunts are
near the heads of the draws. In winter their movements
depend mostly on the condition of the snow. In spring
and early summer they remain in the lower country
among lakes and near rivers.

The rut begins in early September and ends in Octo-
ber. One or two calves at a birth are born in May or
early June. In the winter they do not yard. Often
from four to eight bulls feed together, though some bulls
remain solitary. The cows remain solitary with their

326 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON

calves. Twin calves remain together a year or more
after they leave the mother. The bulls shed their horns
from the middle of December to the middle of January.
Moose are wary, after their kind, whether much hunted
or not, but the bulls, during the early rut, come to the
call of the birch-bark horn, or the scraping of a bone on
a tree in imitation of a rival scraping his horns, and often
to any unusual noise like the blows of an axe. Like
caribou and bears, they desert settled districts, quite un-
like sheep, which remain on their ranges almost to the
point of extermination. |

BEARS

The grizzly bear dwells among mountains rising well
above timber-line and exists all over Yukon Territory.
Except when it comes to the rivers for salmon, it roams
near and above timber-line. It is most abundant west
of the Lewes River, and north along the dry belt inside
of the coast range. It is abundant in the Ogilvies,
Selwyns, and Pellys. It never exists in large numbers
anywhere. It hibernates, according to season, in Octo-
ber or November, and comes forth in May, when it
immediately begins to eat the roots of the wild pea vine,
and soon after digs mice and ground-squirrels. When
the salmon begin to run up the rivers, the grizzlies begin
to feed exclusively on them. Bears do not hunt moose,
caribou, or sheep, though they will feed on a dead car-
cass. The females have from one to three cubs which
remain with the mother for two years. Everywhere, the
grizzly is wild and timid and flees from man.

SOME ANIMALS OF YUKON TERRITORY 327

The black bear dwells exclusively in the timbered
areas of the Territory including the whole of the coast
ranges. It is most common in Alaska on the west slopes
nearer salt water. It does not regularly intrude in the
haunts of the grizzly. “The“‘cinnamon” or brown phase of
color is found in the interior, but it is uncommon. I
have never seen it among the bears on the west slopes of
the coast range, though occasionally this color phase has
been found there.

WOLVES
Wolves exist throughout the Territory, but are quite
local in their haunts. The black phase of color is com-
mon. ‘They tend to keep pretty close to caribou in locali-
ties where caribou are common. Their habits are similar
to those of timber wolves elsewhere.

MOUNTAIN GOATS

Goats live exclusively in the humid belt of the coast
range, seldom ranging far into the dry belt away from the
east slopes. Where the goat ranges end, those of the
sheep begin, though both are occasionally found quite
close together. Goats are exceedingly abundant in the
areas which they inhabit.

All the fur-bearing animals of the north are abundant
in Yukon Territory. Many of them have diminished in
number since the Klondike gold discoveries, when white
men began to trap them. The smaller mammals and
birds have been discussed in the published reports of

W. H. Osgood.*
* See Appendix A.

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APPENDIX A

LIST OF BOOKS RELATING TO SPORT, NATURAL HIS-
TORY, AND EXPLORATION OF THE YUKON
TERRITORY

SPORT

Pike, Warburton: Through the Subarctic Forest. A record of a
canoe journey from Fort Wrangel to the Pelly Lakes and down the
Yukon River to the Behring Sea. Illustrations and maps. (London:
Edward Arnold, 1896.) Incidents of sport in Northern British Colum-
bia and on the Pelly River.

Selous, F. C.: Recent Hunting Trips in British North America.
Illustrated. (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1907.) Contains
narratives of hunting on both North and South Forks of the MacMil-
lan River.

Schwatka, Frederick: Along Alaska’s Great River. A popular
account of the travels of the Alaska Exploring Expedition of 1883,
along the great Yukon River from its source to its mouth in the British
North-west Territory, and in the Territory of Alaska. Map. Illus-
trated. (New York: Cassell & Co., 1885.) Incidentally mentions
the game observed along the upper Yukon waters.

NATURAL HISTORY

Osgood, Wilfred H.: Results of a Biological Reconnotssance of the
Yukon River Region. Map. Illustrations. (United States Biological
Survey, North American Fauna No. 19. Washington, D. C.: Octo-
ber, 1900.) Descriptive Natural History of Lewes and Yukon Rivers.

Osgood, Wilfred H.: Biological Investigations 1n Alaska and
Yukon Territory. Map. Illustrations. (United States Biological Sur-
vey, North American Fauna No. 30. Washington, D. C.: October,

331

332 APPENDIX A

1909.) Includes descriptive Natural History of the Ogilvie Range and
of the Macmillan River.

Ogilvie, William: The Klondike Official Guide. Maps. Illustra-
tions. (Toronto: The Hunter, Rose Co., Limited; London: W. W.
Smith & Sons, 1898.) Historical and descriptive; contains a short de-
scription of game and fur-bearing animals.

EXPLORATION, TOPOGRAPHY, AND GEOLOGY

Dawson, George M.: Report of an Exploration in the Yukon Dis-
trict, N. W.T., and Adjacent Northern Portion of British Columbia,
Maps and illustrations. (Annual Report Geological Survey, Canada,
1887, Part B.) Includes Pelly and Lewes Rivers.

Ogilvie, William: Exploratory Survey of Part of Lewes, T at-on-
duc, Porcupine, Bell, Trout, Peel, and Mackenzie Rivers. Maps. Il-
lustrations. (Annual Report Department Interior, Canada, for year
1889, Part VIII.)

McConnell, R. G.: Report of an Exploration of the Yukon and
Mackenzie Basins, N. W.T. Maps and illustrations. (Annual Report,
Survey, Canada, IV, New Series, 1888-1889.) Includes Peel, Porcu-
pine, and Yukon Rivers.

Keele, Joseph: The Upper Stewart River Region. Map. Illustra-
tions. (Ottawa: Geological Survey of Canada, 1906.)

Camsell, C.: Peel River and Tributaries. Map. Illustrations.
(Ottawa: Geological Survey of Canada, 1906.)

McConnell, R. G., and Keele, J.: The MacMillan River. (Annual
Report Geological Survey, Canada, New Series, Part A, Vol. XV,
1902.)

Keele, Joseph: 4 Reconnotssance Across the Mackenzie Mountains
on the Pelly, Ross, and Gravel Rivers, Yukon and North-west Ter-
ritortes. Maps. Illustrations. (Ottawa: Government Printing Bu-
reau, 1910.)

APPENDIX B

SCIENTIFIC NAMES OF ANIMALS MENTIONED IN THE
NARRATIVE

For a fuller list of mammals and birds of Yukon Territory the
report of W. H. Osgood should be consulted (North American Fauna,

No. 30, 1909).
MAMMALS
Bear, Black—Ursus americanus.
*Bear, Grizzly—Ursus horrtbilis (subsp. ?).
*Bear, Alaska Grizzly—Ursus horribilis pheonyx (Ogilvies; Selwyn
Rockies).
Beaver—Castor canadensis.
Caribou, Barren Ground—Rangifer arcticus.
Caribou, Osborn—Rangifer osborni.
Chipmunk, Gray-headed—Eutamias caniceps.
Cony or Pika—Ochotona collarts.
Fox—Vulpes fulva.”.
Goat, Rocky Mountain—Oreamnos montanus (subsp. columbianus ?).
Ground-squirrel—Citellus plestus.
Lynx, Canada—Lynx canadensis.
Marmot, Hoary—Marmota caligata.
Marten— Martes americana actuosa.
Mink—Lutreola vison.
Mink, North-west—Lutreola vison energumenos (Pelly River).
Moose, Alaska—Alces americanus gigas.
Mouse, Red-backed—Evotomys dawsoni.
Mouse, Meadow (Interior Vole)—Microtus operarius endacus.
Muskrat, North-west—Fiber zibethicus spatulatus.
Otter—Lutra canadensis.
Porcupine, Alaska—Erethizon epixanthum myops.

*A study of the skulls from Yukon Territory which are available has
resulted in the description of nine species and one subspecie of grizzly bears
ranging within its limits. Further study of additional material may cause
some changes in present conclusions. Those who are interested should
read North American Fauna, No. 41. Review of the Grizzly and Big Brown
Bears of North America. By C. Hart Merriam. Government Printing
Office, Washington, D. C., 1918.

333

334 APPENDIX B

Rabbit, White or Varying—Lepus americanus macfarlant.
Sheep, Dall—Ours dallt.

Sheep, Fannin—Ours fannini.

Sheep, Stone—Ours stone.

Squirrel, Red—Sciurus hudsonicus.

Weasel, Arctic— Mustela arctica.

Wolf, Northern—Canis albus.

Wolverine—Gulo luscus.

BIRDS

Alaska Jay—Pertsoreus canadensis fumifrons.

Bald Eagle, Northern—Haliaetus leucocephalus alascanus.

Bank Swallow—Riparia riparia.

Duck Hawk—Falco peregrinus anatum.

Gambel’s Sparrow—Zonotrichia leucophrys gambeli.

Golden Eagle—Aquila chysaétos.

Goose, Hutchins—Branta canadensis hutchinst.

Goshawk—A stur atricapillus.

Great-horned Owl, Ogilvies—Bubo virginianus (subsp. ?).

Great-horned Owl—Pelly River drainage—Bubo virginianus
(subsp. ?).

Grouse, Alaska Spruce—Canachites canadensis osgoodi.

Harlequin Duck—Histrionicus histrionicus.

Hawk Owl—Surnia ulula caparoch.

Herring Gull—Larus argentatus.

Hudsonian Chickadee—Penthestes hudsonicus.

Junco, Slate-colored—Funco hyemalis.

Kingfisher, Belted—Ceryle alcyon.

Little Brown Crane—Grus canadensis.

Loon, Red-throated—Gauza stellata.

Marsh Hawk—Circus hudsonius.

Merganser, Red-breasted—Mergus serrator.

Northern Shrike—Lanius borealis.

Olive-backed Thrush—H ylocichla ustulata swainsont.

Osprey—Pandion halietus carolinensis.

Pigeon Hawk—Falco columbartus.

Ptarmigan, Northern White-tailed—Lagopus leucurus peninsularts.

APPENDIX B 335

Ptarmigan, Rock—Lagopus rupestris.

Ptarmigan, Willow—Lagopus albus (most commonly mentioned).
Raven, Northern—Corvus corax principalts.

Robin—Planesticus migratorius.

Rough-legged Hawk—Archibuteo lagopus sanctijohannis.
Short-billed Gull—Larus brachyrhynchus.

Solitary Sandpiper, Western—Helodromas solitarius cinnamomeus.
Spotted Sandpiper—A ctitis macularia.

Teal, Green-winged—WNettion carolinense.

Varied Thrush, Northern—I/xoreus nevius meruloides.

Whistling Swan—Olor columbianus.

Water Ousel—Cinclus mexicanus untcolor.

Western Tree Sparrow—S pizella monticola ochracea.

FISHES

Dog Salmon—Onchorhynchus keta.
Grayling—T hymallus signifer.
Inconnu—Stenodus mackenzit.

King Salmon—Onchorhynchus tochawytscha.
Pike—Esox lucius.

Sucker—Catostomus catostomus.

Whitefish—Coregonus (probably Nelsons).

APPENDIX C
ORIGINAL DESCRIPTIONS OF NORTHERN SHEEP

From Proceedings United States National Museum, Vol. VII,
pp- 12, 13, 1884
A New Geographical Race of the Mountain Sheep (Ovis Montana
Dalli, var. nov.). From Alaska. By E. W. Nelson

This form can be recognized at once by its nearly uniform dirty-
white color, the light-colored rump area seen in typical montana being
entirely uniform with the rest of the body in dall:. The dinginess of
the white over the entire body and limbs appears to be almost entirely
due to the ends of the hairs being commonly tipped with a dull, rusty
speck. On close examination this tipping of the hairs makes the fur
look as though it had been slightly singed.* This form also has smaller
horns than its southern relatives, but how the two compare in size and
weight I am unable to say.

I name this form in honor of Mr. W. H. Dall, whose scientific
work in Alaska is so well known.

Hami.ton, New Mexico, December 22, 1883.

From Bulletin American Museum Natural History, New York, Vol. IX,
pp. III, 112, 1897

Preliminary Description of a New Mountain Sheep from the British
Northwest Territory.{ By f. A. Allen

Through the kindness of Mr. A. J. Stone, of Missoula, Montana,
the Museum has received three mounted specimens of a Mountain
Sheep, or Bighorn, quite unlike any heretofore described. They were

* Later investigations proved the color to be pure white, the “‘dinginess” alluded
to being merely discoloration absorbed from rocks and soil.—CHARLES SHELDON.

+ Measurements given in this original description have been omitted.—CHARLES
SHELDON.

336

APPENDIX C 337

collected by Mr. Stone on the headwaters of the Stickeen River,
British Northwest Territory, near the Alaskan boundary, at an altitude
of about six thousand five hundred feet. The species may be described
as follows:

Outs stonet, sp. nov.

Male Adult.—Above gray, formed by an intimate mixture of whitish
and blackish brown; face, ears, and sides of neck lighter and more
whitish, being much less varied with blackish brown; whole posterior
area and lower parts from hinder part of back downward and forward,
covering the posterior aspect of thighs, and the abdomen, white, the
white area narrowing anteriorly and terminating in a V-shaped point
on the middle of the chest; also a broad, sharply defined band of white
on the posterior surface of both fore and hind limbs, extending from
the body to the hoofs, and proximally including also the inner surface;
front of neck, from base of lower jaw posteriorly to the white of the
ventral surface, including the breast and greater part of the chest, and
thence along the sides to the thighs, nearly black; the lateral extension
along the flanks becomes narrower posteriorly, and the neck is some-
what grizzled with white; outer surface of both fore and hind limbs black-
ish brown, either uniform or in some specimens varied with a slight
mixture of whitish; back of head with a broad area of black, narrow-

‘ing posteriorly and continuing to the tail as a well-defined blackish
dorsal stripe; tail wholly deep black, except a few white hairs on the
middle of its lower surface; a narrow blackish chin bar, varying in
breadth and distinctness in different individuals; hoofs black; horns
light brown.

This species is based on three males, of the ages, respectively, of
two, five, and six years. The older specimen is taken as the type.
On this the dark areas are blacker, and on some parts less varied with
whitish tipped hairs than in the others, especially the two-year-old.

This species differs from Ovrs dail: in the prevailing coloration,
being either dark gray or blackish brown, according to the area in
question, instead of being “a nearly uniform dirty-white color.” In
O. stoner the white is restricted to definite, sharply defined areas, in
strong contrast with the adjoining parts. O. stone: and O. dall: ap-
parently agree in size and in the character of the horns.

338 APPENDIX C

O. stonei agrees in a general way in pattern of coloration with
O. cervina (Desm.), but the “‘umber-brown” or “‘wood-brown” of the
latter is everywhere replaced in O. stone: with blackish brown or black.
It is also a much smaller animal, and the horns are slenderer and have
a more outward curvature at the tips.

From Fifth Annual Report New York Zoological Society, Appendix I,
pp- 1-4, 1901

Ovis fannini,* sp. nov. Fannin’s Mountain Sheep. Also, “Saddle-
backed” Sheep, or “‘Piebald” Sheep.t By W.T. Hornaday

Type collected by Mr. Henry W. Brown at Dawson City, N. W. T.,
February, 1900, and presented to the Provincial Museum, Victoria, B. C.

DESCRIPTION OF AN ADULT MALE, NINE YEARS OLD, KILLED IN
MIDWINTER

Colors.—Entire head and neck, breast, abdomen, inside of forelegs,
and rump patch for four inches above insertion of tail, snow white.
Entire body, except as above, brownish gray, giving the appearance of a
white animal covered by a gray blanket. This color is produced by a
nearly even mixture of pure white and blackish-brown hairs. The
gray color covers the shoulders from the insertion of the neck down-
ward to the knee, where it fades out. On the outside of the thigh,
the gray color grows paler as it descends, until at the hock joint it fades
out entirely. The posterior edge of the thigh is white. The lower
portion of the inner surface of the thigh partakes of the gray body
color, but is somewhat paler.

* Sheep of variable colors, including those of Ovis fannini, were well known to
miners, prospectors, and traders along the Upper Yukon for many years. They were
first recorded by R. G. McConnell, in his report of an exploration in the Yukon and
Mackenzie Basins, in 1888. His Indians had killed a white sheep near the Peel
River Portage, and commenting on the color he says: ‘‘The change in color and size
toward the north is evidently a gradual one, as the saddle-backed sheep of the upper
Yukon presents characters intermediate between the two extreme varieties.” ‘‘ Report
on an Exploration in the Yukon District, N. W. T., etc., by George M. Dawson, with
extracts from the report of R. G. McConnell.” Geological Survey of Canada, Ottawa,
1898, page 210.—CHARLES SHELDON.

+ Measurements given in this original description have been omitted —CHARLES
SHELDON,

APPENDIX C 339

On the front edge of the thigh, and extending down to the hoof,
is a conspicuous band of dark brown, one and one-half inches wide,
which, below the hock joint, joins rather abruptly the pure white hair
which covers the sides and rear edge of the leg. A similar brown
band extends down the front of the foreleg, from knee to hoof, similarly
backed up posteriorly with white.

The tail is similar in color to the body, but much darker, and a
thin line of dark-brown hair connects it with the gray mass of the body.
The white rump patch is similar in form to that of Ours montana, but
covers a smaller area.

Pelage.—Thick and long; finer and softer than on Ouis montana.
On the neck and abdomen it inclines to shagginess, like that of the
mountain goat. The stiff, brittle quality is noticeably absent from all
white parts of the animal. Everywhere the pelage is abundant and
thick, as befits an Arctic animal. Because of this, the animal appears
to be shorter in the legs and more stockily built than all other American
species, save Ours dalll.

Horns.—In color, clear, transparent, even amber-like, similar to
the horns of Ovrs dalli when clean. Annulations numerous and well
defined. A slight groove under the superior angle, not so deep as that
of Ovis stonei. In the type specimen the horns do not spread as in
Ovis stonei and dalli; but this character is of little scientific value, be-
cause of the wide variations between individuals of the same species.

APPENDIX D
HORN MEASUREMENTS

HORN MEASUREMENTS IN INCHES, TAKEN WITH STEEL TAPE BEFORE
SHRINKAGE. ALL HORNS PERFECT UNLESS OTHERWISE MENTIONED
OcitviE Rockies

Ram killed Fuly 19, 1904

Number of'age rings on homie) is Sy
Length on outside curve right hon. . . . . . . 30
Length on outside curve left horn . . . « . « . 30
Circumference at base of right hom . . .. . . 12
Circumference at base of left hon . . . . . . . 12
POWERS: Pheri ilo he LEA, Ge eae Nae aE Nie, MR” ae Ae
Ram killed Fuly 23, 1904
Number ‘ofiape tings on homis 30°.°°8 0 4S 2 SOF
Length on outside curve right horn. . . . . . . 294
Length on outside curve left horn . . . . . . . 294
Circumference at base of right hom ... . . . 13}
Circumference at base of left horn, |. 2... E34
ap a Ce i UN NE aN Saye 8 tn aA Me
First Ram killed August 2, 1904 (Big Ram)
Number of age rings on horns, more than . . . . 13
Length on outside curve right horn. . . . . . « 368
Length on outside curve left horn . . . . . . . 368
Circumference at base of right horn . . . . . «= 134
Circumference at base of left horn . . . . . . . 134
Wip tor taper RY a hg ee
Length from nose to end of vertebrz in straight line . 59
Standing height at shoulder . . . . . 1. . . = 40

340

APPENDIX D 341

Second Ram killed August 2, 1904

Piumber Ofape tingson hors. . . «sin 8
Length on outside curve righthorn . . . . . . . 32
Length on outside curve left horn . . . . . . . 32
Circumference at base of righthorn . . . . . . 134
Circumference at base of left horn . . . . . . . 134
RE RIAT Re cree oe Fae Ri Mala lo aes ee

Third Ram killed August 2, 1904

Pember Of ape rinces OANOENS 2 8
Length on outside curve right horn. 7 1. 1... 27
Bength on ouiside curve lefe/hom) <<)... 02) 20/4. 27
Circumference at base of right horn . . . . . . 3
Circumference at base’of letehom . .. 5... ... 32
“site 2002 SER a 82 eS

Fourth Ram killed August 2, 1904

Punnperof ape rings om hors: \..))0 127.8 Ses 3
Length on outside curve right horn. . . . . . . 18
Length on outside curve left horn . . . . . 1. 18
Circumference at base of righthorn . . . . . . of
Circumference at base of left horn . . .'. . . . of
PETRUS Gee oP a1) Neey eat ey eda a ELOY ae

Petty Mountains

First Ram killed Fuly 29, 1905

Numbet of age rings on hors |... 2. (04) 6. i eb .6
Length on outside curve right horn. . 2. . . 3h
Length on outside curve left horn . . . 1... 32

Circumference at base of right horn . . . . . . 124
Circumference at base of left hon . . . . . . . 12dh
Tip to tip Ur metibeAaihasysRions?-aG POM Sabtad a ante Sesiviae
Weight of cleaned skull with horns. . . . . . . a1 Ibs.

Weight of dried skin thoroughly fleshed . . . . . 5 Ibs. 6 o2,

342 APPENDIX D

Second Ram killed Fuly 29, 1905

Number of age rings on horns

Length on outside curve right horn
Length on outside curve left horn
Circumference at base of right horn
Circumference at base of left horn .
Tip to tip :
Weight of cleaned skull oy biatale :
Weight of dried skin thoroughly fleshed

Third Ram killed Fuly 29, 1905

Number of age rings on horns

Length on outside curve right horn
Length on outside curve left horn
Circumference at base of right horn
Circumference at base of left horn .
Tip to tip :
Weight of cleaned skull ih Bethe :
Weight of dried skin thoroughly fleshed

Ram killed August 1, 1905 (Big Ram)

Number of age rings on horns, more than

Length on outside curve right horn :
Length on outside curve left horn, blunted at ip :
Circumference at base of right horn

Circumference at base of left horn .

Tip to tip, about . :

Weight of cleaned skull on Patri :

Weight of dried skin thoroughly fleshed .

Length from nose to end of vertebrz in straight line .

Standing height at shoulder

Broken at tip
363
138
138
17}
144 lbs.
5 lbs. 6 oz.

i

Broken at tip
348

12

134

16

17 lbs.

52 lbs.

59

40

(It will be noticed that these body measurements are identical with

those of the big ram killed in the Ogilvie Rockies, August 2,

1904.)

APPENDIX D 343

First Ram killed August 6, 1905

Number of age ringson horns . ....... 6
Length on outside curve right horn. . . . . . 324%
Length on outside curve left horn . . . «. . . - 03148
Circumference at base of right hom . ... . . 14
Circumference at base of left horn . . . . . . . 14

Tipfotip . . BAF AT Ee Mee
Weight of cleaned skull nh bay! ee Mas a ed Baked pgs
Weight of dried skin thoroughly fleshed . . . . . 7 Ibs. 5 ot

Second Ram killed August 6, 1905

Number of age ringson hos ......-+- @Q
Length on outside curve right horn. . . . . . - 3718
Length on outside curve left horn . . . . . . - 38%

Circumference at base of right horn . . . . . . 138
Circumference at base of left horn . . . . . . . 13%

Tap te tip: .. Sen sit) eae tory LOR

Weight of cleaned skull ae ee) AUD Rhee ed heats iat OSES:
Weight of dried skin thoroughly fleshed . . . . . 7 Ibs. 5 oz.

Third Ram killed August 6, 1905

Number of age ringson homs ...'. ....-. §

Length on outside curve right horn. . . . . . . 28%
Length on outside curve left horn . . . . . . . 283
Circumference at base of righthorn. . . . . . . 12}
Circumference at base of left horn . . . . . . . 12}
Tipite ap’. . SM et ney TEVA Lyf

Weight of cleaned skull ean eel nies eh (Vail te) adh RSs
Weight of dried skin thoroughly fleshed . . . . . 5 Ibs. 10 07.

APPENDIX E
TIME SPENT IN PADDLING DOWN PELLY RIVER

From the mouth of the Ross River to the Lewes I had kept an
accurate record of the time consumed paddling between well-known
tributaries. All the time occupied during stops is deducted.

Strickland canoe, twenty-one feet long, weight one hundred and
fifty pounds; weight of two men and materials an additional one thou-
sand pounds; September stage of water; average September weather.
Total distance two hundred and ninety miles (Dr. Dawson).

HOURS MINUTES

Ross River ‘to Rose Creek 3). eau}! eee oi 45
Rose Creek to Glenlyon River . . . . . . I 20
Glenlyon River to’ Tay River 4.0 <1... ).\.: "2 15
Tay River to Harvey Creek . 2 25
Harvey Creek to Earn River . I 25
Earn River to Tummel River 3 15
Tummel River to MacMillan River 7 5
MacMillan River to head of Granite Cafion 2 5
Passing through Granite Cafion . 9. . 2. . 2. 40
Foot of Granite Cafion to Mica Creek . . . 3 40
Mica: €teek to" Willow Creek: “00a are 50
Willow Creek to Grayling Creek . . . . . 1 10
Grayling Creek tothe Lewes . . .... 5 15

45 10

344

APPENDIX F
COLOR MAP SHOWING DISTRIBUTION OF SHEEP

This map is not intended to show accurately the distribution of
these northern sheep. Such a map should be of more recent date,
much larger, containing more topographical details, and should be
marked wherever sheep are known to occur. Even this, with the
present knowledge, would be very far from complete.

The color map only shows approximately correct areas inhabited
by sheep described on the opposite plate. Sheep do not occur all
over the areas within the boundaries indicated. In each color section
every intergradation of intermediate color between those illustrated
on the plate for the corresponding section is common where colored
sheep exist. The colored drawings merely represent a few intermedi-
ates between extremes. Sheep much darker than that illustrated in
Figure 9 are found in Area E. Ewes are usually much lighter in color
than are rams in the same area.

Sheep, probably Ovis stonez, formerly existed in the ranges about
Babine Lake in British Columbia. Charles R. Cross, Jr., and E. A.
Preble, of the Biological Survey, made a special hunt for these sheep
and reported that they had probably been exterminated. Sheep
have been killed at Laurier Pass in British Columbia, about latitude
57 and longitude 124. These are Ovis stonei. The skulls, however,
are slightly larger than the few stonei skulls in the National Museum
in Washington, and it is quite possible that a systematic study of them
might result in naming these sheep of Laurier Pass a sub-species.

HORN CHARACTERS OF THE Opis-dalli-stonei GROUP OF SHEEP

Continued investigations of the types of horns of these sheep
verify the remarks made on that subject on page 300 of this book.
In the New York Zoological Society Bulletin, Vol. XVI, No. 51,
May, 1912, Mr. W. T. Hornaday has written an article, illustrated
with photographs, in which he discusses the character of Dall sheep
in the region of Lake Kluane in southwestern Yukon Territory,
extending “northwestward thereof in the direction of Mount McKin-

345

346 APPENDIX F

”

ley.” This discussion and the conclusions are based exclusively on
five sheep heads with exceptionally large horns, four of which were
collected by Wilson Potter and Henry Disston, Jr., in the region
adjacent to Lake Kluane, and one from an unknown locality.

“The specimens under notice at once strike the observer as
representing something new in the horns of American mountain
sheep.” It will shortly be demonstrated that this statement is not
in accord with the facts.

“Tt is, however, my belief that in the locality which furnished
the wide-spreading horns described above, we have found Nature
virtually in the very act of developing and striking off a wide-horned
and long-horned sub-species of Ovis dalli.” I do not think that the
evidence given in behalf of this conclusion lends any support to it.
This statement could only be worthy of serious consideration if it
should include the condition that the ‘“‘wide-horned” sheep should
become isolated. But they are not isolated.

In this article, as a basis for the conclusions, comparative tables
are given, including the measurements of horns of the Potter-Disston
“‘wide-horned”’ sheep, ten listed by me in this book, and five from the
Kenai Peninsula. It should be noted that the largest basal circum-
ference of the “‘wide-horned” sheep is fourteen and three-eighths inches
—a circumference commonly equalled and often exceeded among horns
of the dalli-stonei group of sheep throughout their range in the North.

The following tables of horn measurements in inches between
the double horizontal lines are those recorded in this article. For
comparison I have added other measurements of horns of the dalli-
stonet group of sheep from widely separated regions.

SPREAD LENGTH CIRCUMFERENCE

I

2. Sheldon’s heads (Ogilvie Mts.)....... 29k |30 |27 |368/32
3. Sheldon’s heads (Pelly Mts.).........

4. Reed-MacMillan heads (Kenai Penin-

sula)

5. Ogilvie Mts. (measured by me)

6. MacMillan River (measured by me)..

7. MacMillan River (Dr. R. Houston)...

8. Kenai Pen. (8-a Chas. R. Cross, Jr.,

others measured by me)...........

9. Cassiar District (reports of J. Hyland)|334/29 |28
10. Knick Arm-Kenai (T. A. E. Lally a). .|26 |... |...]... |...

Endicott Rockies near Arctic coast (R.
Mis Aridéragnb).7.anitetececen ce ee alecs

263/31 {28

* Right horn broken at tip 34}.

APPENDIX F 347

Referring to the measurements between the double lines, Mr.
Hornaday says: “The measurements show that the fifteen speci-
mens composing Groups 2, 3, and 4 are not noticeably different from
one another. They do not spread widely, and they are by no means
particularly long. In fact they are all of the same general type—
small, of medium length, and close in spiral.

The five specimens in Group No. 1 are equally alike, but their
great spread, great length, and wide-open spiral place them absolutely
in a class by themselves.”

But since the “wide-horned” heads are specially selected heads,
I could logically draw the same conclusion from the measurements
of any group of the selected heads I have recorded above, 5 (Ogilvie
Rockies), 6 (head of MacMillan River), 8 (Kenai Peninsula), and 9
(Cassiar District).

Tip-to-tip measurements do not necessarily signify diverging or
“spread” horns. This can be demonstrated by comparing the ratios
of this measurement to the length of the horns. This is true for the
reason that six inches more or less along the ends of the horns thrust
outward at angles of varying degrees.

A narrow-horned or close-spiral type is correctly described in this
article: “Instead of opening out widely from the face, the middle
section of the horn descends almost parallel with the cheek, and not
far away.’’ Therefore the spread or wide type of horn is one where
the middle section diverges away from the cheek. The type is nar-
row or spread according to the angle of divergence between the horn
and vertical perpendicular. When the angle is wide, I prefer to
use the term divergence, or diverging type of horns.

The photographs of these “‘wide-horned” sheep displayed in the
article show only one (1-b) which I consider a diverging type of
horn. Compared with numerous heads I have seen from most
regions of the North, the divergence of the horns of this head is moder-
ate. Except for size, all the others are intermediate between narrow
and diverging and as such are common types found everywhere in the
North. It is only size and the outward thrust of the ends which
give them a wide tip-to-tip measurement. The divergence of my
Ogilvie Mountain heads, 2-a and 2-b, is fully as much as that of 1-b.
The Ogilvie heads simply have much smaller horns.

348 APPENDIX F

In May, 1912, I wrote Wilson Potter asking him if it was not true
that these “‘wide-horned” heads had been specially selected and if
according to his observation in the Kluane region the narrow type
of horn was not the prevailing one the same as in other regions of
the North. He replied that such were the facts: “In answer to your
questions in reference to the white sheep which I brought from the
Yukon, I can safely say that you have answered them yourself in
your recent letter, viz, that I know that these are picked heads,
and at least one or two of them are undoubtedly the best sheep that
have ever been killed in that section, either by white hunters or
Indians. The Indians in that section are familiar with large heads,
and save all the big heads they get hold of, and I have seen most
of them. While I was shooting I was picking the wide-type heads
out of all the bunches of rams that I saw, and while it is undoubtedly
true that this type is more prevalent in this section than in any
other section which | have hunted in, there are just as many of the
narrow types as in any other place.”

Tom Dickson has lived, hunting and trapping, in this region for
years and he has been the chief guide of most hunting parties, in-
cluding that of Potter, where these sheep were obtained. The re-
marks on page 300 of this book were submitted to him and he wrote
that they were the only accurate statements of facts that he had ever
read.

I have personally measured twenty-four mature heads from the
Kluane region. Seven have tip-to-tip measurements varying be-
tween twenty-three and twenty-eight inches. Seventeen were under
twenty-two inches, a good proportion of which were under twenty
inches. The measurements which I have recorded in the table are
selected heads, the horns of most of them diverging much more than
those of the “wide-horned”’ sheep. With one exception, the heads
killed by Doctor Houston have the narrow type of horns, but they
are included as of exceptionally massive size.

That splendid type of sportsman, Mr. Charles R. Cross, Jr.,
who met death by accident in ambulance service in France, killed
the fine head 8-a with the narrow type of horns, which is interesting
for the great outward thrust of the tips. In a letter to me dated
January 2, 1913, after describing the killing of this sheep in the Kenai

APPENDIX F 349

Peninsula, Cross remarked: ‘It may interest you, though being only
what you would probably expect, to know that on the same mountain
I saw some very large heads of an exceedingly broad-spreading type;
in fact, the spread was so great that the impression was almost of
horns shooting straight out sideways when seen at a distance. I was
very sorry to fail to get one of these, but was unable to get in fair gun-
shot on account of the exceedingly bad condition of the mountain.”

The varieties of types of horns of the dalli-stonei group of sheep
are much greater than are those of the larger species—the Ovis cana-
densis group. But the horns of the latter group are, with exceptions,
larger and more massive.

The following types of horns are commonly observed among the
dalli-stonet group: The narrow type, sometimes with very close
spiral; the diverging type, often with a very wide angle from the
perpendicular; both these types occur with massive or slender
horns; a type with horns very much curled, the tips extending up
well beyond the eyes; a type with very small compact curled horns,
often well wrinkled in age, but very light in weight; a type large at
the base, but abruptly tapering outward to thinness; a type with
horns curving without elevation from the skull, having the appear-
ance of low horns; another, the reverse, in which the horns rise curl-
ing almost directly upward from the skull, having the appearance of
high horns; more exceptional types where the tips thrust at length
almost horizontally outward, and where the tips do not turn outward
at all. Every possible intermediate form of horns occurs between all
these types. The horns of ewes, although generally more uniform,
vary between the narrow and diverging types.

Usually the upper frontal edge of the horns of the rams is more
or less keeled, but commonly the keel is lacking. The horns are more
V-shaped than are those of the canadensis group, but often they are
rounded in a similar manner. I have frequently seen mature horns
of the canadensis group, particularly those from western British
Columbia, which are indistinguishable in all characters from some of
those of the dalli-stonet group.

The tips of the mature horns of canadensis are usually broomed
or broken, giving the impression that a section has been cut off. The
tips of the dalli-stonei group are more often sound, but the brooming

350 APPENDIX F

and broken appearance of the tips is very common among older
rams, and it is not uncommon among the younger ones. Less fre-
quently the same is true of the horns of ewes. This condition of the
tips is caused by butting, which often chips or breaks the tips, but
more commonly the tremendous force of the impact sets up a vibra-
tion of the horns so rapid as to cause splintering at the tips which
later wear away; and also by continually knocking the tips against
rocks, both while seeking food and while travelling.

The theory has often been proposed that when the horns of rams
grow so long as to obstruct the view, the animal deliberately rubs
them against rocks for the purpose of wearing down the tips and thus
widening the area of vision. This absurd theory should be relegated
to the limbo of that which declared that rams dive down cliffs and
instead of the feet make use of the horns for landing. Rams some-
times do rub their horns against rocks, but likewise horses sometimes
rub their stalls. Another ridiculous theory is that when the horns
reach a sufficient length, rams cannot feed and therefore die by
starvation. Let those who are tempted to reflect and seek a reason
for the condition of the tips of rams’ horns find a cause which will
equally apply to the similar condition of the horns of ewes.

The horns, especially after they have been washed by much rain,
often have a suggestion of amber color. This is more apparent be-
fore the rams are old. Commonly the color of the horns of older
rams is like that of the horns of Ovis canadensis.

The common type of horns of the dalli-stonet group everywhere is
the narrow type. In regions where sheep are more abundant, nat-
urally there are more rams with large horns, and also, in most
places, with a larger proportion of diverging horns. It seems to be
true that diverging horns are exceptional on the Kenai Peninsula.

We do not know the causes of horn growth and therefore cannot
draw positive conclusions as to the causes of big horns. It may be
that they are produced by a better and more abundant food supply
or by longer seasons of green food where climatic conditions are more
favorable. They may be caused by the preponderance of certain
classes of food or by the soil content which produces the food. It
is possible that prepotent strains of sheep with large horns have
established themselves in regions and have tended to reproduce large

APPENDIX F 351

horns. Continuous successions of favorable feeding seasons may be
another possible reason. I have a suspicion that if a very large series
of horns from the Ogilvie Mountains and from those above the Arctic
Circle could be compared with a similar series of horns in all other
regions they would prove to be, on the average, lighter in weight.

Why does the narrow type of horn prevail so much more abun-
dantly than that of the diverging type? We do not know, but a
speculation as to one of the possible reasons may be permissible.
Many times and for hours at a time I have watched rams butting
during the rut. It is certain that the best fighters impregnate the
most ewes. With other qualities which win in the combat being
equal, the ram with the narrow type of horns clearly possesses the
mechanical advantage at the impact of butting over the one with
the diverging type. Therefore more ewes are impregnated by rams
with the narrow type of horns. This being true, if the theory of he-
reditary horn types is permissible would it not follow that, unless iso-
lated, the diverging type of horns will always remain in the minority
and no “wide-horned” sub-species will ever be produced? On the
other hand diverging horns may not be hereditary at all. They may
only be fortuitous variations of the horn cores.

THE STAINING OR THE “‘SINGEING”’ OF THE PELAGE OF WHITE SHEEP

All white Dall sheep throughout the North are stained in varying
degrees. When the staining is not very marked the pelage has the
appearance of being singed. Among the hundreds of sheep I have
observed continuously throughout the year in the region of Mount
McKinley, all were stained throughout all seasons. There was a
short period in November when the staining was not so marked, and
occasionally an individual sheep was observed which was fairly clean,
although a light stain was always evident.

In the winter sheep seek the wind-swept areas of their range and
therefore they usually lie on bare rock and brush against it when
feeding. Dung is scattered in their beds. It is impossible that the
immaculate white pelage of sheep should not constantly come in
contact with substances which stain it.

In 1914 Mr. Hayward Cutting organized a party which hunted
in the Kluane Lake region, including the heads of the Donjek and

352 APPENDIX F

White Rivers. Mr. Harry A. Auer, a member of this party, narrated
its experiences in a book, Camp Fires in the Yukon, which he pub-
lished in 1916. He mentions in an appendix my remarks in Chapter
XX on the stained pelage of sheep, and also Mr. Nelson’s remarks
on the singed appearance of sheep made in his original description of
Ovis dalli. Mr. Auer maintains that the sheep of the region where
the Cutting party hunted are not stained in September and October.

I have personally examined a skin of one of the sheep killed by
Mr. Cutting on this trip, which he gave to the Biological Survey.
It is stained exactly the same as are all other white sheep from all
other regions. Mr. Cutting made to the Biological Survey a report
on the sheep of this region: “The pelage of the sheep which we en-
countered was pure white. Of all those we killed, some thirty-seven,
I do not find any traces of dark hairs anywhere on the body. . . .
The tips of the hairs in places along the flanks and on the face were
darkened, giving the effect of singeing.” My friend Jack Hayden,
who once accompanied me on a trip to the Mount McKinley region,
one of the guides of this party, wrote me that the sheep there were
stained the same as were those in the McKinley region. Another
guide of the party, Tom Dickson, who knows the region better than
any other man, wrote me that the remarks on the subject in this book
are accurate. Wilson Potter, who hunted the same region, wrote
me that all the sheep there are stained.

It requires considerable experience properly to search for and
detect dark hairs in the pelage of the sheep of that region. This
must be the reason why Mr. Cutting failed to observe them, for in
this skin which he gave to the Biological Survey I find dark hairs in
the tail and elsewhere in the area of pattern coloration.

In order to determine the cause of the persistent staining of the
pelage of these white sheep, Mr. Nelson submitted specimens of the
hair to an expert for microscopical examination. The report is here
recorded:

Mr. E. W. Nztaon, Wasuincton, D. C., May 23, 1916.

Bureau of Biological Survey, Washington, D. C.
Dear Sir: I have made a microscopic examination of the hairs of
the Alaska mountain sheep, Ovis dalli, so as to determine the cause of
the discoloration of these hairs at and near their tips.

APPENDIX F 353

I find these hairs are entirely destitute of pigment, the white
color being due to enclosed air. The ends of all these hairs are
much broken and frayed for a distance of from one-quarter to three-
eighths inch. It is this broken portion which is extensively dis-
colored. In addition to this the hair has been sharply bent in many
places back of the tip, at short distances ranging from one-thirty-
second to three-thirty-seconds inch apart. The structure of the hair
is more or less broken at these places, in consequence of which they
also show the light brown or heavy buff stain in various degrees,
those nearest the tip being darker; and finally, at a distance of about
half the length of the hair, these sharply bent places become infrequent
and show no stain, the entire hair being a dazzling, silvery white.

It is evident from the examination that this stain is due to the
wearing and injury to the hair incident to the life habits of the
animal. As is generally the case, the hair is more or less oily, and
the animal coming in contact with substances such as dead plant
tissue, dirt, etc., the coloring matter finds its way into the hairs
through these broken or fractured places, especially at the tip where
the hair is slit into ribbons. The discoloration is therefore not due
either to pigmentation or to sudden staining from outside sources,
but is the result of the gradual breaking down of the hair in the
normal way, and the contact of the animal with various materials.
This is made very evident by treating these hairs with ether to
extract the fat, passing them through alcohol, and staining with some
strong stain. The hair remains a dazzling white except at the points
above indicated, where the stain rapidly finds ingress into the tissue
and intensifies the color already found at such points.

The staining process also brings out the fact that organisms of
decay, fungi and bacteria, are not present at these places in any
appreciable quantity, and therefore play no rdle in the discoloration
herein mentioned.

Very respectfully, ALBERT Mann,
Plant Morphologist.

AN APPLICATION OF PROFESSOR MATSCHIE’S THEORY OF THE DISTRI-
BUTION OF SPECIES TO THE CASE OF WILD SHEEP

In Petermann’s Mittheilungen, Vol. 60, pp. 70-72, February,
1914, Doctor Rud Kowarzik has written an article on the ‘Geograph-

354 APPENDIX F

ical Distribution of Wild Sheep” which includes that of all Ameri-
can wild sheep. He attempts to show in detail that the various
species of wild sheep of the world conform with Professor Matschie’s
theory that watersheds are the only exact boundaries for the
determination of the distribution of species of animals.

He applies it to the dalli-stonei group in the statement translated as
follows: ‘‘Ovis dalli dalli inhabits the lower course of the Yukon;
Ovis dalli kenaiensis lives on the west side of the Kenai Peninsula as
well as on the opposite continent. Ovis dalli fannini is found at
the upper course of the Yukon on the lower course of which Ovis
dalli dalli lives. The conspicuous bend of the lower course of the
Yukon only too distinctly suggests geological changes to which this
river course has been subjected recently and which led to the present
occurrence of two types of sheep in the same region. Ovis dalli
cowant is known from Mount Logan (in the extreme southeast of the
Alaska Peninsula), and as the last link of the chain Ovis dalli stonet
is in the region of the Stikine River and Skeena River.”

Then follows an equally erroneous discussion of the canadensis
group and the conclusion: “From the above the fact is plain that
the distribution of wild sheep proves absolutely the correctness of
Matschie’s opinion that the separate types of the various species of
mammals are separated by watersheds, and that in each faunal dis-
trict only one species of the same genus is found.”

The facts given in this book demonstrate the absurdity of Doctor
Kowarzik’s statements and conclusions.

INDEX

ao

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iy dba nt ‘

j ( On iv

: op : ay | NS: J et u Ah |
eae ii Ai hy | i MS

th Pe CRORES Wand ian tiahe eae net

INDEX

(For scientific names of animals see Appendix B)

AwAsKA, viii, ix, 179, 186, 217,
228, 267, 289, 298, 305, 308,
322, 324, 331.

Alaska jay, 10, 43, 62, 66, 69, 105,
131, 143, 196, 210, 217-218,
244, 274, 285.

Alaska Range, 313.

Alder, as fuel, 289.

Allen, J. A., 336.

Atlin District, 157.

Atlin Lake, 298, 304.

Aurora borealis, 84, 129.

Bap EAGLE: 254, 256, 260; chas-
ing gull, 172-173.

Balsam, as fuel, 270.

Barr, Jack, 101, 139.

Barr Creek, 101, 139.

Barren Grounds, 322.

Bear (Black): vii, 275, 282, 314;
actions when crossing fresh trail
of man, 103-104, 109; courage-
ous swimmer, 257; distribution,
327; dung of, 255; killed, 283-
284; observed near Yukon
River, 6; on MacMillan, 142;
receiving scent of man, 142, 150;
set-guns for, 278, 281; shooting
at, 256; stalking, 150; tracks on
Coal Creek, 10, 16, 79; tracks
on Katzehin River, 172, 174,
175; tracks on MacMillan River,
90, 98, 102; tracks on Ross
River, 254; tracks in Selwyn
Rockies, 127, 134.

Bear (Grizzly): vii, 48, 104, 142,
167, 282, 314; caution of, 255;
catching a ground-squirrel, 26;
diggings, 23, 45, 54, 157, 216,
273, 293; distribution and hab-
its, 326; dung of, 255; eating
salmon, 256; instinct of scent,

357

28-29; observed near Coal
Creek, 15; observed on Mac-
Millan River and Selwyn Rock-
ies; 98, 112, 117, 126, 131; ob-
served in Pelly Mountains, 201-
202; observed on Ross River,
260-261, 273; signs in Pelly
Mountains, 196, 246; stalking
and killing, 25-27; timidity of,
261; trails of, 255; tracks on
MacMillan River and Selwyn
Rockies, 98, 112, 117, 126, 131;
tracks on Ross River, 255.

Bearberry, 33.

Beaver: abundance on MacMillan,
some habits, instincts, etc., 91-
93; dams, 100-101, 1384; carry-
ing sticks to house, 140; con-
structing house, 163; scarcity on
Pelly, 188; scarcity on Ross,
254; tail as delicacy, 94.

Big Horn Creek, 304, 305.

Big Salmon River, 171.

Biological survey, xi-xiii, 4, 76,
131, 156, 294, 331.

Birch (white), as fuel, 289.

Black flies. (See Gnat.)

British Columbia, 3, 303, 309, 322,
331, 332.

Burwash, Mr., 155, 156.

CacHES, NECESSITY of, 107.

Cache Creek, 135.

Cameron, D. A., 83, 140.

Campbell, Robert: career as ex-
plorer, 183-186; discovers Mac-
Millan River, 88; discovers
Pelly River, 183; discovers Ross
River, 251.

Caribou (Barren Ground): ac-
tions after being shot at, 66;
actions when feeding, 39; ac-

358 INDEX

tions when wounded, 39; atti-
tude when standing at rest, 58,
64; distribution and _ habits,
322-323; measurements, horns
and color, 40; stalking, 39;
tracks in Ogilvie Rockies, 15,
31, 48, 60; trails, 21, 67.

Caribou (Osborn’s): ix; abun-
dance between Pelly and Mac-
Millan, 279, 281; actions of
cow after first sight of man, 145;
actions of calf with mother, 145-
146; distribution and habits,
323-324; killed on bank of Mac-
Millan River, 140; not found in
Glenlyon Mountains, 293; not
found in Pelly Mountains, 245;
observed on Plateau Mountain,
94, 142, 144-145; signs in Mac-
Millan Mountains, 296; signs on
Ross River, 263, 272, 273, 274;
udder of cow as delicacy, 99.

Caribou (Rangifer stonei), 162,
167, 324

Cassiar Mountains, 303, 304, 305,
309, 323.

Cheonee Mountains, 303.

Chickadee, 244.

Chilkoot Pass, 185.

Chipmunk, 200, 227.

Clearwater Creek, 125.

Clothing, xiii.

Coal Creek: 4, 5, 8, 60, 71, 72, 79,
195-196, 307; character of, 9,
14, 19; country along lower
reaches, 9, 14; dangers of ford-
ing, 10; forks of, 12; sources of,
23, 31.

Coast Ranges, vii, 301, 302, 305.

Coghlan, Charles, 84, 95, 102, 126,
130, 131, 138, 141, 151.

Concealing coloration. (See Pro-
tective coloration.)

Cony, 31, 48, 56, 65, 162, 206, 243.

Cranberry, 32, 33.

Crosby, Mr., 101, 139.

Datu, W. H., 336.

Dallsheep. (See Ovis dalli.)

Darwin, Charles, xii.

Dawson, x, 4, 80, 83, 141, 171, 177,
302, 323.

Dawson, G. A.: 88, 332, 338, 344;
explorations of, 184-185, 187,
191, 195, 280.

Dawson red-backed mouse, 49,
263, 266, 274.

Dease River, 185, 186, 190, 304.

Devil Club, 174.

Dogs (Indian), 188-189, 190, 192.

Donjek River, 302, 324, 325.

Dougherty, Mr., 83, 140.

Draws, 106.

Dromedary Mountain, 89, 90, 144,
286.

Dryas, 32.

Duck Hawk, 85.

Dugas, Judge, 83.

Dwarf birch, 20, 22, 24, 200, 245.

Eaa tp, 305, 307, 323.

Earn River, 344.

Equipment, xiii-xiv.

Ewes: actions after first sight of
man, 54, 56, 59, 70; actions after
hearing rifle shot, 56, 204, 288;
actions when approached with
wind, 54, 230; alertness com-
pared to that of cow moose, 115;
at rest, 63, 121; browsing among
willows, 113, 115; feeding hours,
55, 58, 62; habits of collective
action, 204; habits of caution,
231, 288; habits of watchfulness,
121, 230; keeping lambs at a dis-
tance when feeding, 292; nerv-
ousness when detached from
band, 291; observed in Ogil-
vies, 24, 60, 63, 66, 67, 69, 71;
observed in Pellys, 202; ob-
served in Selwyns, 116, 118, 119,
133; sport of, 55, 56; stalking,
121-124, 159-161, 204, 287-
289; tracks of, 113, 114; udder
as delicacy, 99; vitality of, 161-
162.

Fievp LAKE, 263, 264.
Fish-hawk, 254.

Foley, Mr., 156, 159, 162.
Footgear, xiv.

Fort Halkett, 183.

Fort Pelly Banks, 184-185, 191.
Forty Mile, 5, 6.

INDEX 359

Fox: 151, 159, 274, 281, 289, 290,
293; attacking sheep, 314, 315.
Frances Lake, 184, 185, 186.

GaGE, CHARLES, 4, 83, 95, 151.

Gambel’s sparrow, 244.

Geese, 90, 253, 256, 263, 285.

Glenlyon Mountains: 178, 187,
276, 280, 302, 304, 323; de-
scriptions of, 286-287, 288, 290,
291, 292, 293.

Glenlyon River, 344.

Gnats: black flies attacking horses,
11; “sand flies,’’ 99, 247.

Goat, Rocky Mountain: 327; not
so alert as sheep, 174; observed
near Katzehin River, 173-174.

Golden Eagle: 42, 54, 56, 65, 110,
113, 150, 162, 196, 200, 216, 221,
244; attacking sheep, 314, 315.

Goshawk, 102, 143, 196, 256, 276.

Granite Cafion, 87, 151, 182-183,
344.

Gravel River: 252, 332; source
of, 251.

Grayling: 22, 200; abundance of,
13; in Yukon, 8.

Grayling Creek, 344.

Great horned owl, 285.

Grew, Jim, 194.

Ground-squirrel: 19, 48, 63, 66,
69, 72, 111, 125, 156, 196, 205,
206, 209, 224, 227, 268, 274, 279,
281, 287, 296; abundance of,
26; senses of, 245.

Grouse, Alaska spruce, 10, 15, 73,
105, 143.

Haines Missron, 172.

Harlequin duck, 23, 200, 207, 244.

Harvey Creek, 344.

Hawk owl, 19, 105.

Henderson, Bob, 83.

Herring-gull: 151, 285; chased
by bald eagles, 172-173; chased
by goshawk, 276.

Hoole (interpreter), 183-184.

Hoole Cajfion, 179, 184.

Horn, Mr., 83, 140.

Horse (Danger): 7, 178, 188-189,
190, 195, 205, 246, 247, 275;
keenness of senses, 219; quali-
ties, 218.

Hosfall, Mrs.: 180-182, 183; her
experience killing an otter, 294-
295.

Hudson Bay Company, 88, 183,
189, 190, 194, 251.

Husky Dog Creek, 104, 122, 135.

Icz, running in rivers, 149.

Inconnu, 266.

Indians: 6, 86, 92, 93; Chilkat,
184; Kaska, 190, 191; Nahanni,
190; Pelly (Es-pat-o-ti-na), 177,
188-189, 195, 247, 251, 252,
256, 279; description of, 190-
192; frightened by horse, 189;
Selkirk, 296.

Interior vole, 31, 49.

Iskoot River, 303.

Itsi Mountains, 272.

Jay. (See Alaska jay.)

Jefferies, Tom, 178, 205, 206, 207,
216, 217, 219, 242, 246, 253,
256, 257, 258, 259, 260, 262, 266,
270, 278, 284, 286, 293, 297.

Johnson, C. E. Wynn, 155, 158,
159, 162, 166, 172, 173, 174.

Junco, 14, 244.

Kauzas CreEEK, 90, 149, 294.

Kalzas Lake, 295.

Kalzas Mountains, 89, 90, 91, 143,
149, 286, 294, 295.

Kamschatka, 318.

Katzehin River: ix, 172; descrip-
tion of, 172-173.

Keele, Joseph, 88, 252-253, 264,
274, 308, 315, 323, 332.

Ketza (Indian), 183.

Kingfisher, 245, 256, 276.

Klondike District, 323, 332.

Klondike River, 4, 82.

Lake Bennett, 158, 159, 304.

Lake Le Barge, 305.

Lake Tatlaman, 92.

Lambs: browsing in willows, 280:
sport of, 56, 66, 69, 203.

Lapie (Indian), 183.

Lapie River: 192, 215, 244, 246,
247; descriptions of, 195-196.

Lebell, Mr., 153.

Lewes, John Lee, 184.

360 INDEX

Lewes River, ix, 183, 184, 185,
191, 304, 305, 309, 319, 324, 326,
331, 332, 344.

Lewis, Mr., 190, 191, 194, 251-
252, 261, 274, 275:

Lewis Lake, 252, 260, 261, 262,
264, 265, 275.

Liard Post, 191, 194.

Liard River, 183, 184, 190, 191,
199, 325.

Lichen moss, 15, 32, 54.

Little brown crane, 148, 285.

Little Salmon River, 92, 281.

Log Cabin, 325.

Loon, 267.

Louis Cardinal, 94, 101, 102, 107,
108, 125, 129, 130, 131, 137,
138, 139, 140, 141, 144, 150, 151.

Lynn Canal, 172, 185.

Lynx: 18, 92, 149, 150, 165, 274,
275, 282, 283, 284; attacking
sheep, 314, 315; indifference to
canoe, 293.

McConneELL, R. G., 88, 89, 332,
338.

McDames Creek, 190.

McKinnon, 194, 247.

Mackenzie Delta, 308.

Mackenzie River, 41, 120, 251,
263, 264, 307, 308, 309, 320, 323,
332.

Mackenzie Rockies, 301, 307, 309.

MacMillan (Chief Factor), 88.

MacMillan Mountains: 88, 89, 90;
description of, 295.

MacMillan River: viii, 83, 85, 144,
145, 179, 180, 183, 203, 271, 272,
274, 279, 286, 294, 295, 296, 297,
298, 300, 306, 331, 332, 334;
beavers on, 91, 93, 100-101;
country between forks, 99-100;
description of, 97; discovery of,
88; North Fork, 95, 96, 101,
104, 256, 294; South Fork, viii,
89, 95, 140, 324; sources of,
251, 269.

Marmot: 31, 48, 51, 56, 65, 71,
162, 205, 224, 274, 281, 291;
senses of, 245.

Marsh hawk, 244.

Marten, 49, 92, 274.

Mead Glacier, 172, 174.

Merganser, red-breasted, 85, 101,
150, 276.

Merriam, C. Hart, x, xi, xii, xiii,
156.

Mica Creek, 344.

Mice, scarce in Pelly Mountains,
218, 244.

Mink, 49, 274, 275.

Missionaries, 191-192.

Moccasins, 33, 52, 109, 111.

Moose: vii, 140, 167, 188, 206,
274, 282; abundant in Pellys,
245; abundant on Ross, 273:
abundant between Pelly and
MacMillan, 279; action when
crossing fresh trail of man, 117;
age of tracks, 278; distribution
and habits, 325-326; food of,
245, 325; old tracks in Pelly,
186; old tracks in Watson
River country, 156, 158, 162;
scarce in Glenlyons, 293; tracks
on Coal Creek and in Ogilvies,
9, 14, 15, 16, 20, 79, 105, 106;
tracks on MacMillan and in Sel-
wyns, 90, 98, 117, 131, 133;
tracks in Pelly Mountains, 196;
tracks on Plateau Mountain,
145; tracks on Ross, 254, 263,
268, 273; trails, 17, 20; 67, 72,
105, 106, 133.

Moose bull: 101, 107-108, 122,
148, 150, 296; ability to walk
without noise in brush, 137-138;
“calling,” 130, 131-132, 133,
134, 135, 136-139, 140, 147,
148; fighting, 130; food, 270;
habits and actions when resting,
147; horns, 17, 206, 270, 325;
inconspicuous, 147; rubbing
velvet off horns, 269; rut of,
125, 148, 281, 325; sequester-
ing cow during rut, 122-123;
141, 144; stalking, 269-270;
trails, 99-100, 117; travelling
above timber, 146.

Moose calf: 265, 266-267, 325-
326; actionsafter killing mother,
98-100.

Moose cow: 6, 98, 114, 119, 123,
265, 325; actions after calf was
shot, 266; stalking, 266-267;
testing sight and scent, 116;

INDEX 361

tracks of, 21; udder as a deli-
cacy, 99.

Moose Creek, 145.

Moose Lake, 145.

Mosquito: 13, 15, 19, 20, 32, 35,
38, 39, 40, 43, 48, 53, 54, 58, 61,
63, 196, 231: date of disappear-
ance, 68.

Mosquito net, for head, 20.

Mount Gray, 158, 163, 164, 166.

Mount Riddell: 264, 268, 272;
absence of sheep on, 273-274.

Mount Sheldon: 264, 265, 267,
268, 269, 271-272, 273, 274;
cirque of, 271.

Muskrat, 166.

Nawanni Hovse: 171, 189, 191,
252, 275; description of, 194.

Nahanni Mountains, 307.

Nass River, 303.

Natural selection, 310, 311, 317,
318.

Nelson, E. W., 336.

Newell, A. B., ix, 84, 155, 157, 159,
288.

North Fork. (See MacMillan
River.)

Northern shrike, 66, 69.

North-west Mounted Police, 5,
177-178.

North-west Territories, 332.

OGILVIE, WILLIAM, 332.

Ogilvie Rockies: 15, 21, 24, 30,
111, 297, 300, 306, 307, 309, 312,
319, 322, 323, 325, 326, 331, 332,
333, 334; character of, 18;
compared with Pellys, 199-200;
compared with Selwyns, 109;
descriptions of, 40, 48, 54, 59,
67, 73, 76; vegetation on, 32;
weather conditions, 62, 79.

Olive-backed thrush, 14, 17.

Orchay River, 199.

Osgood, W. H.: x, 4, 7, 16, 19, 40,
44, 49, 58, 59, 62, 70, 79, 95, 96,
139, 140, 143, 148, 150, 151, 327,
331, 333; game killed by, 142;
kills bull caribou, 60; kills ewe,
43; successfully stalks rams,
71; skill as a naturalist, 156;
wounds a ram, 63.

Otter, 294.
Ovis canadensis, 299, 318.
Ovis cervina. (See Ovis canaden-

sis.)

Ovis dalli: 3, 43, 78, 203, 296, 297,
305, 306, 307, 320, 321; original
description, 336.

Ovis fannini: 3, 43, 76, 78, 203,
216, 227, 296, 297, 298, 306, 307;
original description, 338.

Ovis montana. (See Ovis canaden-
sts.)

Ovis nivicola, 318.

Ovis stonet: 3, 113, 114, 203, 216,
226, 297, 299, 306, 308, 320, 321;
distribution, 303; original de-
scription, 337.

PackK-HoRSsES, 7, 11, 16, 32.

Patterson, J. A., 83.

Peel River, 24, 307, 323, 332.

Pelly, Sir H., 183.

Pelly Lakes, 186, 194, 331.

Pelly Mountains: 188, 195, 234,
264, 276, 287, 288, 302, 303, 304,
307, 323, 325, 326; descriptions
of, 196-201, 207, 215, 223, 233.

Pelly River: 84, 88, 89, 151, 171,
177-179, 190, 195, 244, 264, 275,
276, 278, 279, 280, 282, 283, 285,
286, 292, 293, 296, 297, 300, 304,
306, 309, 319, 323, 324, 331, 332,
334; discovery, history, descrip-
tion, 85, 183-187; limit of
steamboat navigation on, 193;
source of, 251; time of paddling
between Ross and Lewes Rivers,
344.

Pelly Road Crossing, 296.

Pelly Road House, 84, 151.

Pigeon-hawk, 244.

Pike, 261.

Pike, Warburton, explorations of,
185-186.

Plateau Mountain, vii, 94, 142,
144, 146, 286.

Poling, 262.

Poplar, as fuel, 289.

Porcupine, 143, 175.

Porcupine River, 307, 332.

Prevost Cafion, 252, 258, 262, 275.

Prevost River, 252, 260.

Protective coloration, 310-317.

362 INDEX

Ptarmigan, Rock, 206, 244.

Ptarmigan, white-tailed, 67.

Ftarmigan, Willow, 22, 44, 54, 72,
113, 114, 118, 121, 146, 148, 150,
162, 206, 207, 209, 244, 268, 279,
290, 296.

Raspsir, 18, 73, 100, 143, 156, 162,
166, 196, 228, 254, 274, 283, 285,
286, 290, 293.

Rams: 35, 163, 216; actions after
first sight of man, 33, 41, 51, 75,
235, 236, 239; actions after
hearing rifle shot, 33, 41, 52, 75,
213-214, 225, 236; actions of
younger members when de-
tached from band, 268; actions
when approaching them with
the wind, 74, 220, 224-226; ac-
tions when feeding, 35, 236;
actions when travelling, 36;
actions when wounded, 37, 45,
57, 74, 213-214; appearance
on sky-line, 36, 226; appearance
under excitement, 224; com-
municating alarm, 37; habits
of watching, 35, 208, 212-213,
223, 237; horn measurements,
340-343; horns, 53, 77, 216,
226, 236, 299-300; inability to
distinguish direction of rifle
shot, 75, 214; lack of collective
action, 38, 74, 213; leaders, 37,
241; measurements, 77, 226,
340, 342; resemblance to ibex,
225, 231, 235; resting hours, 67;
stalking, 35, 40, 51, 55, 72, 128,
164-166, 208-214, 221-225, 235-
241; tendency of oldest to keep
apart from band, 73; tendency
of young rams to separate from
ewes, 202; weight, 227; weight
of dried skins, 341-343; weight
of skulls, 341-343.

Raven, 42, 65, 121, 125, 162, 196,
244, 254, 255, 260, 276.

Red squirrel, 14, 22, 23, 43, 69,
97, 100, 105, 125, 131, 134, 143,
188, 196, 227-228, 247, 254, 255,

274.
Riddell, Bob, 134, 135.
Rifle, xiv, 33.

Robin, 105, 118, 127.

Robinson, 155.

Rocky Mountain sheep. (See Ovis
canadensis.)

Rose, Mr., 179, 188, 276-278.

Rose Creek, 282, 344.

Rose Mountains: 188, 278, 304,
306; view from, 279, 280, 282.

Rose Slough, 278.

Rose River, 199.

Ross, Duncan, 251.

Ross River: 171, 179, 186, 187,
189, 255, 260, 274, 279, 297,
306, 308, 332, 344; as a hunt-
ing country, 273; country bor-
dering, 263-264; exploration,
history, description, 251-253;
travelling time to Lewis Lake,
262; travelling time from Lewis
Lake to Pelly, 275.

Rough-legged hawk, 10, 54, 243,
244.

Rungius, Carl: x, 4, 8, 10, 14, 15,
16, 19, 29, 31, 33, 42, 49, 53, 58,
60, 61, 62, 64, 70, 71, 79, 95, 96,
139, 140, 143, 148, 149, 151, 156;
game killed by, 142; kills bull
caribou, 65; kills cow caribou,
44; kills ewes, 43; kills grizzly
cub, 32; kills ram, 45.

Russell Creek, 95, 140.

Russell Mountains, 97, 110, 139,
142, 144, 286.

SADDLE-BACKED SHEEP. (See Ovis
fannini.)

Salmon, Dog, 151.

Salmon, King, 13, 79, 183, 254,
260, 263, 266.

Sand flies. (See Gnat.)

Schnabel, Bill, 156, 158, 160, 161,
166.

Schwatka, Frederick, 331.

Selkirk, 84, 151, 171, 179, 183-184,
296.

Selous, F. C.: viii, 83, 93, 95, 96, 97,
99, 101, 105, 106, 112, 114, 116,
117, 118, 119, 124, 125, 129, 130,
134, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 142,
147, 148, 151, 155, 180, 331;
kills bull moose, 107-108, 126-
127; kills cow moose, 98; kills
ewe, 131; kills two caribou, 113;
stalks black bear, 102-104, 150.

INDEX 363

Selwyn River, 296, 297, 298, 305,
307.

Selwyn Rockies: 89, 101, 297, 304,
306, 308, 309, 323, 324, 325, 326,
333; descriptions of, 109-110,
120, 272.

Sheep. (See also Ewes, Lambs,
Rams, Ovis dalli, Ovis fannini,
Ovis stonei.) vii, ix, 6, 19, 65, 111,
126, 144, 145, 166, 167, 188, 206,
263, 292, 296, 326; ability to
distinguish between natural and
artificial sounds, 238, 291; acci-
dents, 216; actions in fright, 62;
age of trails, 119; almost extinct
near Ross River, 274; attitudes,
61; beds, 58; causes of colora-
tion, 318-322; climbing ability,
55, 56, 124; (colors in Glen-
lyons, 287, 290, 292); (colors in
Ogilvie Rockies, 35, 41, 43, 56,
66, 78); (colors in Pelly Moun-
tains, 203, 294, 213, 216, 226,
230, 234, 237); (colors in Rose
Mountains, 280, 281); (colors
near Ross River, 268, 271); (col-
ors in Selwyn Rockies, 113, 114,
115, 120, 124, 127, 297); (colors
head of Selwyn River, 296);
(colors in Watson River coun-
try, 160); (colors in Yukon
Territory, 297-298); conspicu-
ous, 235, 312-313; distribution,
301-303; distribution accord-
ing to color, 297-298, 303-310;
enemies, 312, 314-316; en-
vironment, 299; food, 216; gait
of, 229, 290; indifference to
grizzly bear, 201-202; indif-
ference to scent of man, 128,
220; inconspicuous, 55, 115,
312-313; interbreeding, 319-
322; intergradation, 320-322;
leaders, 230; measurements,
299; meat of, 48; migration
habits, 302; pawing away snow
to get food, 113, 115, 287, 292;
persistence of dark hairs, 308,
318; photographing, 219-220,
230; physical characters, 299-
301; resting attitudes, 222; rest-
ing hours, 70; rings on horns,
340-343; scarce between Pelly

and MacMillan, 279; sense of
hearing, 291; “sentinels,” 202,
208, 230, 234, 237, 281; sheep
ranges, 302; skull characters,
301; stalking, 127-129; ten-
dency of bands to exclude out-
siders, 202-203; tormented by
mosquitoes and flies, 61, 231;
trails, 21, 31, 48, 65, 67, 200,
206; white rump patch, 318.

Sheldon Lake, 252, 264.

Sheslay River, 203, 303, 304, 306,
309, 319.

Short-billed gull, 267.

Simpson, Sir George, 184.

Skagway, ix, 4, 155, 167, 171, 172,
175.

Skookum Rapids, 258, 262.

Sleeping robes, xiii.

Slims River, 302.

Smith, Tom, 191.

Solitary sandpiper, 9.

South Fork. (See MacMillan
River.)

Spahr, Ed, 4.

Spotted sandpiper, 9, 244.

Spruce, as fuel, 289.

Stewart River, 120, 145, 297, 300,
307, 308, 332.

Stikine River, 3, 185, 203, 300,
301, 303, 304, 309, 337.

Stone, A. J., 336.

Stone sheep. (See Ovis stonez.)

Swan, Whistling, 274.

TANANA Hitt1s, 298, 307.

Tanana River, 307, 309.

Tatonduk River, 23, 24, 48, 67,
332.

Tay River, 187, 283, 304, 344.

Taylor, Capt. John, 178, 188, 190.

Telegraph Creek, 203.

Teslin Lake, 298, 304, 324.

Teslin River, 304, 305.

Thayer, Abbott, his views of con-
cealing coloration applied tc
sheep, 310-317.

Thirty Mile River, 305.

Tummel River, 344.

Van Brsser, 194.
Van Gorda, 179, 194.
Varied thrush, 2¢',

364 INDEX

WATER-OUSEL, 23, 60, 244.

Watson River: vii, 155, 157, 298, —

804, 305; description of ad-
jacent country, 158, 159; game
near, 167.

Weasel, Arctic, 49.

Western tree sparrow, 244.

Wheaton River, 157, 159.

White fish, 261, 263, 266.

Whitehorse, x, 4, 7, 155, 166, 171,
ii

White Pass, 172.

White Pass and Yukon Railway,
x, 4, 84, 178, 288, 325.

White River, 302, 324, 325.

Willow, as fuel, 289.

Willow Creek, 344. |

Wolf: 70, 148, 246, 274, 282, 284~
285, 327; attacking sheep, 312,
314, 316; did not hunt sheep in
Glenlyons, 293.

Wolverine: 49, 126, 127; attack-
ing sheep, 314, 315.

Wood, Major Zachary Taylor, 177,
178.

YuKon River: ix, 4, 24, 41, 79,
84, 183, 262, 296, 298, 305, 307,
308, 309, 320, 523, 331, 332;
at mouth of Coal Creek, 6.

Yukon Territory, vii, viii, ix, 3,
177, 178, 179, 186, 217, 228, 254,
261, 267, 274, 298, 299, 300, 309,
313, 322, 325, 326, 327.