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CAMP FIRES
IN THE YUKON

HARRY A’ AUER

AUTHOR OF
“THE NORTH COUNTRY”

CINCINNATI

STEWART & KIDD COMPANY
1916

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COPYRIGHT, I916, BY
STEWART & KIDD COMPANY
All Rights Reserved

COPYRIGHT IN ENGLAND

VAIL-BALLOU COMPANY
BINGHAMTON AND NEW YORK

In grateful remembrance
of the beloved comrade of many trails,

MY FATHER,
who in my early youth took me by the hand
and led me along the untrodden ways of the wilderness,
this volume is dedicated.

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FOREWORD

The intendment of this volume is not to present
a work on wilderness travel nor is it offered as a
treatise on woodcraft, though it necessarily contains
somewhat of both. Its sole purpose is to accur-
rately record the writer’s experiences and observa-
tions as a hunter of big game in The Yukon just as
they happened day by day and set down in my diary
at the time the events narrated transpired.

When the writer has assumed to go beyond the
range of his own experiences and relate those of his
hunting companions, the diary records those experi-
ences just as related to him by his companions about
the camp fire at the end of the day’s chase.

For the benefit of those who may desire to follow
the writer’s trail into this remarkable hunting field,
it seemed wise to incorporate an account of the route
taken by this expedition together with a brief de-
scription of points of interest along the way. The
modes of travel with their difficulties, the items of
equipment, expeditionary and personal, the charac-
ter of the commissary, and the methods of hunting
are set forth as indispensable to a true account of
the summer’s work and a possible help to any who

may travel the same trail.
Vv

vi FOREWORD

The objects of the expedition were twofold: to
observe and study the habits of the various game
on their native ranges, and to obtain specimens of
the game for the collections of the individual mem-
bers of my party.

Of no less importance than obtaining specimens
was the study of the habits of the Ovis dalli, being
the pure white mountain sheep, and the less ob-
served and more rare animals, the woodland cari-
bou, rangifer osborni, found in large numbers in the
undisturbed mountain ranges, which we visited.
The sheep mentioned in this diary are all the Ovis
dalli, as we observed not a single specimen of Fan-
nin’s sheep, nor of Stone’s sheep. The caribou
mentioned are all the rangifer osborni, as we ob-
served no other specimens of the caribou family.

For the sake of clarity and in order to enable the
reader to follow the movements of the expedition
into the interior, and more particularly as it has
been the writer’s effort and purpose to record only
facts as they transpired without straying into the
fields of fiction, the writer has deemed the purpose
to be best served by a strict adherence to the facts
and observations set down at the time of their oc-
currence in his diary.

These are the things I have seen,

And these are the thoughts I feel,

As I lie in the warmth of the firelight’s gleam,
Till sleep steals away my will.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I THe YUKON EXPEDITION AND Its EQUIPMENT

II THe Route witH SoME OBSERVATIONS ON

THE GOLDEN PAST AND THE PRESENT. .

III Tue Westwarp TREK By WAGON TRAIL

FROM WHITEHORSE TO LAKE KLUANE. .

IV Tue Trek spy Pack TRAIN FROM LAKE

KLUANE TO THE ST. Ettias RANGE. . .

V SHEEP AND Carisou HUNTING IN THE ST.
RI SAS-RANGE oy) Oogles ee

VI Hvuwntinc ALONG THE MOUNTAINS oF COUNT

CREEK AND KLUTLAN GLACIER .

VII Deep into THE St. Extias RANGE.— SHEEP
AVS KSABIBOU |. han ccna hae haat ead)

VIII Deep into THE St. Exias Rance (Con-
TINUED).— A PARADISE OF RAMS . .

Ie Peis Moose. RAncre oe oie

X Tue Retreat Across THE RANGE. .. .

XI THe Goat RANGES OF THE SLIMS Moun-

TAINS . . . -_ ° es e e e . °

PDP UIES eg) GN eocgcy BR Ae ght el ahig sg

PAGE

I

10

22

4l

55

77

IOI

120
142
160

173
190

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Along Lake Kluane Approaching Slims
Mountains- $5 $33 65 2. 8. eS renipiee

PAGE

Fisher the Cook, and Albert, Indian Guide . . . 25
Taking Horses Across Slims River. . . . . «. 25
“ Muck-a-Muck” at Deserted Cabin. . . . . 28
Home Camp on St. Clair River. . . . . . -. 28
Outriders. of St. Elias Range . 4) 20084). oe 38g
prea: near Creek’ Summit . 9 ire eens eae
Valley of the Donjeck River . §s06 08 (8) 9.9) 45
(eye pnore ot Lake Kiwane... 9 ¢/iieeinn eile a 48
Winter upon Tundra Barrens . . . .. . © 45
Along the Wolverine River Bottoms . . . . . 54
Pordimp. the Lonjeck River. eae es oe 8 84
Climbing the Heights of the Ancient Ram. . . . 68>
Caribou Country High Up Near the Glacier. . . 68
We Climbed Pinnacles Above Count Creek Glacier . 77

Towering Seas of Snow Crests Tossed to Heaven . 80

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Osborni Caribou . ; : ‘
Caribou Herd Came els Below Us .

Peak on Left Where We Located Ram After Storm .

We Dug Ourselves Out of Our Crazy Shelter .
A Rare and Perfect Trophy . . ‘
Willow Patch Camp. Altitude 5,800 Feet .
The Heart of the St. Elias Range .

Plan of Moose Drive

Crossing St. Elias Range, Mt. Natazhat in Distance .

Auer’s Pack Train Crossing the St. Elias Range .
Pinnacles of Slims Mountains .

Live Silver Foxes er he f
A White Speck Against the Blue on the Sky Line .
A Becoming Side View .

A Farewell Look .

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

CHAPTER I

“‘ Let us probe the silent places, let us seek what luck betide
US;
Let us journey to a lonely land I know.
There’s a whisper on the night-wind, there’s a star agleam
to guide us,
And the wild is calling, calling — let us go.”

The northwest angle of the Western Hemisphere
stretches into the Pacific Ocean toward Asia, form-
ing the United States Territory of Alaska, well
termed a “‘nation’s treasure house.” Separated
from Alaska on the east by only the imaginary
boundary of the one hundred and forty-first merid-
ian of longitude, lies an inland domain politically a
province of the Dominion of Canada, with a sea
coast of only 200 miles on the ice-bound Arctic Sea;
and this domain is also a “ nation’s treasure house,”
a land of romance and somewhat of mystery — the
Yukon.

Within this Yukon Territory there flows a re-

markable and mighty stream, the Yukon River,
I

2 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

which not only furnished the name to this domain,
but with its tributary streams constitutes practicably
the only artery of commerce, development, and civi-
lization within the territorial boundaries. Rising
within fifteen miles of the Pacific Ocean at Dyea
Inlet on the southern boundary of the country, the
Yukon rips and tears its irresistible way north by
west about one thousand miles, where it crosses the
Arctic Circle and turning westward flows more than
twelve hundred miles through the middle of Alaska
until it loses itself in the icy waters of the Pacific.
Peculiar among rivers is the extent of its naviga-
bility, for steamboat navigation begins at Lake
Bennet, not quite forty miles north of Dyea Pass,
where rise the streams that feed the waters of the
lake. From the head of navigation, and I refer to
steamboat navigation, to the outlet of the river in
Bering Sea the distance is approximately twenty-five
hundred miles, over which large-size steamers op-
erate all summer, excepting three and one-half miles
at the canyon and rapids, where the steamboats could
run down-stream, but by reason of the current it
would be impossible to get them up-stream. And
this navigability over so much of its course seems
to be characteristic not only of the main artery of
the Yukon, but holds as to its tributary streams, as
the Tahkini, the Teslin, the Pelly, Stewart, Tanana,
Koyukuk, Porcupine, and the White rivers are navi-
gable for very considerable distances by the large

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 3

flat-bottomed steamboats of the Mississippi River
type. | |

Naturally and inevitably the course of settlement
and development, following the lines of least resist-
ance, is found along this stream and its subarteries.
Indeed, without a single exception, unless it be a few
clustering mining camps, there is no settlement of
the dignity of a village within this northland, but is
found upon the river. Few indeed are the cities;
when we have mentioned White Horse, Caribou,
Selkirk, Teslin, Ogilvie, Fortymile, and Dawson,
we have mentioned them all and by courtesy have
included several that are questionable as being even
of village dignity. They are all on the Yukon or
its tributaries and there are none elsewhere. The
Yukon courses for most of its length through a
mighty sea of mountains, rising like a petrified ocean
on either side of the river with green and brown and
grey slopes merging into crests of eternal snows.
It is truly a mighty wilderness, a land of immense
silence and mystery, and of incomparable beauty.
It is pre-eminently a land of the hunter, whether the
hunt be the lure of the gold hidden within the moun-
tains, or the fur-bearing animals in the forests, or
the faunal life that calls to the sportsman seeker for
big game. It is the land of the Klondike; it is the
specially favored home of the valuable black and
silver fox; it is the greatest hunting field for big
game on the North American Continent. Here

4 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

alone, on a single hunting expedition, can the sports-
man obtain moose, caribou, mountain sheep, goats,
and grizzly bear, and the hunting fields are ample
and the game plentiful.

The sportsman who would visit the game ranges
of this country must go prepared, and preparation
involves a very considerable element of time as com-
munication with the interior is very slow, particu-
larly in winter season. It was in the fall of 1913
that the writer planned his expedition to the Yukon
for the season of 1914. After considerable investi-
gation it was decided to go from Seattle to Skagway,
Alaska, by boat, thence by rail across the White
Pass, a distance of one hundred miles inland to
White Horse, thence by pack train westward by
north, following the valleys, to Lake Kluane, and
then westward across the mountains to the eastern
slopes of the coast range, where St. Elias and Mt.
Natazhat raise their glistening snow crests to the sky.
The problem of guides is always an important one
for any kind of a hunt, and this is particularly true
of the country we proposed to visit, as it is necessary
that the guides know the game ranges and, in view
of the few men living in the interior and away from
the regular lines of travel, suitable guides are difh-
cult to obtain.

Indeed, the guides are not guides at all, but are
men who are living in the remote parts of the coun-
try engaged in the business of trapping fur-bearing

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 5

animals for sale. In the summer season there is no
trapping, so these seekers of fur for a couple of
months during the summer, and for the considera-
tion of ten dollars per day, become guides for
sportsmen desiring to visit the particular game fields
with which the guides may be familiar. Oliver
Wolcott, Griscom Bettle, Alfred Hoyt, Heyward
Cutting, and the writer composed the expedition to
visit the game ranges mentioned, and after consid-
erable effort and an even greater delay due to irreg-
ular and slow mail communications with the interior,
promising guides were engaged for the expedition.

Next to having the proper guides, the element of
suitable equipment is important in a successful ex-
pedition into the interior. The outfit is the usual
pack-horse equipment, since all provisions, personal
outfit, and camp impedimenta must be loaded on the
pack animals, and consists of pack saddles, alforjas
(being canvas receptacles with leather loops to fit
over the horns of the pack saddles and big enough
to carry about one hundred pounds on each side of
the horse), hitch ropes, canvas pack-covers, pack-
horse bells, hobbles, horseshoeing outfit. For rid-
ing horses one must have saddles, bridles, gun boot
or scabbard to carry rifle, and war bag or saddle bag
to carry such small items as one may frequently re-
quire while on the trail.

One’s personal equipment permits of but little ~
latitude, since one is limited as to the amount of

6 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

personal outfit by the fact that horses are few and
their carrying capacity absolutely limited. Such
items, however, as go into the personal outfit are
important and are indispensable. Footwear is the
first element, and should be the best and strongest
hunting boots obtainable, preferably two pairs of
hunting boots, not more than twelve inches high, and
calked well for rock work in climbing mountains.
Four pair of heavy woolen lumberman’s sox are
indispensable, which with two pair of heavy woolen
undershirts and the same number of drawers of like
weight make the next-to-the-skin outfit. Woolen
riding trousers are strongly recommended by the
writer, certainly khaki or corduroy trousers are al-
most prohibited. Any kind of heavy flannel or
wool hunting shirt will suffice, but the regular lum-
berman’s cruiser shirt, with its many pockets and
its almost complete imperviousness to ordinary rain,
makes it desirable above any hunting shirt with
which the writer is familiar. Any felt hat is good.
The regular army hat is particularly good. Gaunt-
lets should be of such size as to be worn over wool
gloves when it is very cold. A head net as defense
against insects is necessary part of the time. To this
trousseau one should add a parkie, with fur around
the face and wrists, as it weighs but one pound, but
will keep you warm and keep out the wind and chill
that one meets on the pinnacles of the mountains,

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 7

and a good sweater and rainproof slicker to be used
when riding completes the clothing list.

Binoculars are absolutely necessary, preferably
eight or ten power in order to locate game and de-
termine the size of the heads before commencing
a stalk up thousands of feet and involving a half a
day’s climb. A camera is a luxury and involves
carrying extra weight, but it is the one luxury which
should not be eliminated. In the matter of fire-
arms, experts are not entirely agreed as to caliber,
though the consensus of opinion seems to be in favor
of a high-power rifle. Personally the writer
strongly commends the 7 mm. or 8 mm. Mannlicher,
or Mauser rifle, on account of its great carrying
power and energy and light weight, as he believes
less wounded game escapes than when one uses
smaller calibers. ‘The 8 mm. Mannlicher used by
the writer and the 8mm. Mauser used by his com-
panions were ideal in every respect and no wounded
game escaped.

The selection of proper bedding for the Yukon
is an item as to which one should not make the
wrong choice. Blankets positively are not to be
considered, as they involve too much weight for
proper warmth. Sleeping robes are almost entirely
used, and in the choice of robes one may have a
large variety from which to choose: the lynx skin
robe, those of reindeer skin, wolf, gopher, and fox

8 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

are all used somewhat, but for lightness, durability,
and warmth, to say nothing of cleanliness, the best
robe is that made of eiderdown. Of these there are
a number that are good and there is one that is par-
ticularly satisfactory. It is a robe ninety inches
square, the side next to the body being composed of
very thick, soft kersey wool, the outside being of a
closely woven waterproof canvas, and between
these is one and one-half inches of eiderdown filling,
blown into cambric partitions under heavy air pres-
sure, and making a very soft bed and one which is
warm in the most severe weather even in the open.
This robe can be used as a blanket in which one rolls
oneself, or by having rings and clasps placed on the
edges and bottom it can be used as a sleeping bag
of sufficient dimensions so that one can roll about
in it with entire comfort. It weighs about twelve
pounds and packs down to a small roll. A good
skinning knife, carborundum stone, hypodermic sy-
ringe, thermometer, aneroid barometer, steel meas-
uring tape, medicines, bandages, and a few toilet
articles, with ammunition for gun and films for
camera, complete one’s personal equipment and 1s
really about all the traffic will bear.

Naturally in the Yukon one’s shelter is a tent,
and in view of the fact that tentmakers have flour-
ished since the days of Omar, the tent item would
appear easy of solution. The writer used a wall
tent made of a silk material, green in color, by rea-

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 9

son of the excess amount of daylight in the north-
land in summer. This tent was thoroughly water-
proof, weighed the minimum, and absolutely mos-
quito-proof, having a mosquito-proof front and
mosquito-proof windows, two in each wall, and one
in the back of the tent. The winged pests of the
North could not crawl under the tent because of a
waterproof sod cloth sewed into the sides, front,
and back, while the windows and mosquito-proof
front barred all other openings and yet permitted
a maximum of ventilation.

CHAPTER II

“Have you gazed on naked grandeur, where there’s noth-
ing else to gaze on,
Set pieces and drop-curtain scenes galore,
Big mountains heaved to heaven, which the binding sun-
set blazon,
Black canyons where the rapids rip and roar?”

To the hunter of big game the long journey by
train or boat to the jumping-off place on the edge
of the game ranges is ordinarily an unmitigated
bore, endurable only by reason of the thought of
the ultimate goal. It is, however, otherwise on a
journey to the Yukon: time passes rapidly, every
moment is one of interest, and the scenic beauties of
the journey outrun one’s most vivid imagination.

On the 29th of July, laden with guns, ammunition,
camera, sleeping robes, and countless other items of
equipment, we set sail from Seattle by a large and
comfortable ocean-going steamer bound for the
Golden North by way of the Inland Passage, a run
of about one thousand miles through the most won-
derful inland ocean in the world, where only at three
points and then only for a few hours is the traveler
subjected to even the possibilities of discomfort

from sailing a tempestuous sea.
Io

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON II

Six hours out from Seattle the ship enters the
three-hundred-mile Strait of Georgia, a passage be-
tween Vancouver Island and the Canadian main-
land with hundreds of islands between —a strait so
narrow that it seems one might almost toss a stone
ashore from either side of the ship. On either side
rise Titan peaks rank upon rank, their lower slopes
covered with dense forestration of enormous trees
of the evergreen family, while above the timber-
line the rocky front climbs up to the glacial fields
and snow-caps cutting the sky line. The way is so
tortuous that one looking ahead never sees more
than two miles of the course, and always off the
bow looms the gigantic peaks that challenge descrip-
tion and make our supply of adjectives seem fu-
tile.

When we are certain that the navigator intends to
ram the mountain, the course is changed, and, sur-
rounded by the majesty of mountains, we again see
our course for another couple of miles.

The air is crisp but not chilly, as the Japan cur-
rent has considerably modified the coastal climatic
conditions; the sunlight is intense and there is no
monotony to the wonderful panorama. Waterfalls
dropping hundreds of feet down the mountain sides,
as flashing strokes of living white against the green
rock, and snow slides that cut gigantic swaths
through the forest slopes, add to the traveler’s in-
creasing interest in a moving picture, the major note

12 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

of which is majesty and power beyond words to
express.

It was while sitting on the deck, oppressed by the
sense of the smallness of things artificial and the
majesty of the mountains through which our watery
trail was taking us, that I first heard the story of
the birth of the Golden Klondike from a man who
had mucked and delved for the gold in this country
of wonders long before the Klondike was discov-
ered; who knew the discoverers as comrades and
fellow toilers and sufferers in a land which has use
only for the strong in body and the stout of heart.
The story was so simply told that I must relate it
as it came to me, even though it is perchance outside
the big game field. It is, however, a real hunting
story, one that I have verified, and as such I submit
it to the reader’s verdict as to whether or not it
should be included.

‘* As far back as 1894 there had been a few pros-
pectors from Ogilvie trading post, who had been
doing some work in the vicinity of Klondike River
and Eldorado and Bonanza creeks, but the pay dirt
was scarce and the prospect of anything good
seemed to grow less as each party returned for grub
to Ogilvie to report failure. Bob Henderson, a
sailor from Nova Scotia, had come north to try his
fortune in the search for gold, and for several years,
in spite of poor luck, stuck to the Klondike country
in a belief that he would finally make a real strike.

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 13

In the spring of 1896 Bob cleaned up a little over six
hundred dollars, which was not so bad for a sailor
who had never been in a frozen country before, and
after his clean up he prospected around until he
found gold on Quartz Creek, which he called ‘ Gold
Bottom.’ Here he found two-cent prospect (mean-
ing two cents of gold to the pan) and returned to
Ogilvie for provisions, which ran out in a couple
of months. In July, 1896, he was going down one
of the tributaries of the Klondike for more provi-
sions, when he met George Washington Carmac,
and in accordance with the unwritten miner’s code
told Carmac of his strike on Gold Bottom and in-
vited him to come up and stake some ground. Car-
mac at this time was fishing for salmon with his
Indian friends, among them being Skookum or
‘strong’ Jim, and Tagish or ‘no good’ Charlie.
About three weeks later Carmac, Skookum Jim, and
Tagish Charlie, with gold pan, spade, and other out-
fit, started out to look up Bob Henderson and his
find. Going up Bonanza Creek, while panning for
fun during a rest, they discovered ten-cent pan, but
they agreed to say nothing about it until they tested
the ground farther, but would come back and work
it in case they found nothing better.

‘* After very hard travel in the valley they crossed
over the divide between Eldorado and Bonanza
creeks, and almost out of grub and no tobacco
reached Henderson’s camp. Henderson for some

14 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

reason, either because he did not like the Indians
or because of shortage of his own supplies, refused
to sell them anything, and since they had not found
any prospect that looked anywhere near as good as
their ten-cent pan on Bonanza, they decided to go
back.

‘Before they had gone far their grub was en-
tirely gone, they were weak and hungry, and the
going was hard and slow, and they were almost at
the end of their strength. To keep body and soul
together they decided to hunt moose for one day,
so they separated, and Skookum Jim finally killed
a moose, after which he called to his brother Charlie
and to Carmac to come to him. While waiting for
them he cut a piece of raw moose meat to eat and
went down to the creek to drink, lying flat on his
stomach, gulping the water. It sure does pay to
drink in the Yukon country, for as Jim finished
drinking, while still hanging over the basin of the
creek, he saw in the sands more pure gold than he
had ever seen before, and Klondike, the greatest
gold producing camp in history, was at that moment
born. Jim said nothing to Carmac and Charlie
when they came up, as starving men do not talk
until they have fed. The moose was quickly
cooked and the three had a big feed. Then Jim
showed them his find.

“Two days they stayed, panning and testing the
dirt and getting pay beyond even their own belief;

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 15

then they decided to stake and record, but they got
into a row as to who should stake discovery claim.
Jim rightfully claimed it as he discovered it; Carmac
claimed it on the ground that Jim was an Indian and
would not be allowed to record the claim. This, of
course, was wrong, but they settled the trouble by
Carmac staking Discovery claim, while Skookum
Jim staked Number One claim above Discovery and
Tagish Charlie staked Number Two claim below
Discovery on August 17, 1896. Poor Henderson,
after his two years’ work and proclaiming his find
to every one, only got a very ordinary claim in the
new field. Within two years’ time Skookum Jim’s
claim, worked by hand methods of shoveling and
sluicing, had paid about a million and a half dollars,
while Carmac’s claim and Charlie’s were quite as
good pay. Their ground has all been worked out
a long time ago as far as ordinary methods are con-
cerned, but the Guggenheims bought the properties
with many others near Dawson and are still work-
ing them by dredges at considerable profit.”

The story as told by my fellow traveler was im-
mensely interesting, and as I sat silent under its
spell and wondered if any of the numerous pros-
pectors bound north on our boat might be destined
for such a marvelous find, the narrator turned to
me and with the earnest air of a man giving very
sage advice said, ‘‘I have told you a true hunting
story, and the moral is, when you are hunting and

16 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

come to a stream to drink, drink deep, but do not
leave the pool until you have looked at the sands”
beneath the water.”

At the northern end of Vancouver Island the
steamer crosses Queen Charlotte Sound, a distance
of about sixty miles on the open sea, until the nar-
row, protected passage between the islands and
mainland is again reached. Along the course are
numerous salmon canneries, while the fishing boats
with their cargoes continually ply up and down the
narrow, salt river between the mountains. Oppo-
site Prince of Wales Island lies the Alaskan town of
Ketchikan, a city built upon a hill, as the mountains
rise from the very water’s edge. A rushing stream
tears its way between two mountains and passes
through the town. And it is an interesting sight to
go up to the bridge near the falls and watch the
silver horde of salmon working up-stream and
climbing the falls. Several hours beyond Ketchi-
kan the town of Wrangel is reached; the chief inter-
est in this place for the traveler centers about the
totem poles, which are grotesque, heraldic monu-
ments of painted and carved wood from ten to forty
feet high, representing the tribal and family identity
of the individual Indian who has erected the par-
ticular monument. Upon the decease of a man at
the head, of a family a totem was erected to his
memory in front of the abode of his successor.
The totem pole seems to be confined to the natives

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 17

of the coast in Southwestern Alaska, as the North-
ern tribes and the Eskimos have no such symbolic
monuments. A short distance from Wrangel the
Stikine River, coming down from the Cassiar Moun-
tains, furnishes a route whereby the big game
hunter may find ingress to the splendid hunting far
back in the Cassiar Range.

After leaving Wrangel and passing through Fred-
erick Sound into Stephen’s Passage, we began to
encounter floating icebergs, being masses of ice of
the deepest cerulean blue color that had fallen and
cracked off the ice wall of Taku Glacier and were
floating about in the narrow passage, a menace to
navigation but very interesting to the traveler. Ap-
proaching Taku Inlet a marvelous scene is pre-
sented; Taku Glacier, a gigantic wall of blue ice,
seared with crevasses and tossed into minarets and
spires, rises far back at the very tops of the moun-
tains and descends as a mighty river of solid ice
hundreds of feet thick down to the sea, pushing and
cutting its relentless way between the mountains.
About two hours’ run north of Taku Inlet we come
to Juneau, the capital of Alaska; and to Treadwell,
across the narrows, where are located the famous
Treadwell mines. Ahead lies the last stretch of
our journey by steamship, as eight hours’ sailing
through the mountain-girt, natural passage called
Lynn Canal brings us to the once famous gateway
of the Golden North, Skagway.

18 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

To-day this city slumbers peacefully in a gulch
whose front is gently washed by the blue waters of
the Pacific, while from either side rise the titanic
rocky walls of snow-clad mountains that veil their
shoulders in the mists and lift their hoary crests into
the sunshine above the clouds. ‘The streets are
quite deserted, the glaring emptiness of many shop
windows is eloquent of business activities that lie in
the past, and even the forward look of the inhabi-
tants is a hope for a return of the activities of the
days that are gone. Even to-day there is much talk
that is reminiscent of those fond yesterdays of 1897,
1898, and 1899, when this little town was packed
to overflowing with thousands of men who had come
north by boat to pass through this gateway to the
Golden Klondike, discovered by Skookum Jim.

There the seasoned woodsman and the veriest
tenderfoot, the experienced and the self-reliant
Western miner and the pitifully unqualified city
bookkeeper, the fit and the unfit, in multitudes, with
the common spur of golden expectations, jostled
each other and made merry for a day or so before
starting up the cruel White Pass trail over the moun-
tains that hem in the town.

Of all the hordes of real pioneers, adventurers,
and gold-crazed people who streamed through this
port of entry into the Northern wilderness, the name
of ‘‘Soapy Smith’’ seems to live longest in the
memories of Skagway, probably due to the fact that

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 19

Soapy was not only a very live person while he
breathed the air of this planet, but in Skagway he
became an institution, and being an institution his
memory is still green, even as the grass that grows
over his upturned toes.

In the glory days of Skagway the boat discharg-
ing its varied and motley human cargo that goes to
make up the gaiety of nations, landed on the dock
a hitherto mild and harmless Western gambler
named Soapy Smith, who in the favorable climate
of Skagway developed talents of organization, until
within a short time he found himself at the head of
a gang of outlaws. Soapy became obsessed with
the delusion that his mission in life was to relieve
all incoming gold seekers of their often too meager
grubstakes and all the outgoing miners of the re-
sponsibilities of wealth which they had accumulated
in the form of gold dust and nuggets, and for a time
he plied this form of relief work vigorously and
successfully and usually by the painless method, as
few of his victims were subjected to any personal
violence.

He was a man of resource, and his methods were
as varied as Joseph’s famous coat. It is related
that a missionary en route to the North to labor
among the ungodly stopped in Skagway, and one
evening addressed the crowd and sought contribu-
tions for missionary work. Soapy, hovering on the
outskirts of the curious but none too responsive

20 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

multitude, sought to stimulate interest by going up
to the missionary and taking his stand beside him,
pleading for financial’ aid to foreign missions. He
is reported to have admitted on that occasion that
he did not know what a church was like on the in-
side, but if they were anything like what they ap-
peared to be on the outside he was in favor of them
on general principles; that they were good to look
at, and that he had never heard of a real town that
did not have a church, and that he was backing his
own belief in the parson’s cause by contributing one
thousand dollars. Whereupon he gave the grateful
missionary one thousand dollars, and hurried to the
outer margin of the crowd to escape being over-
whelmed with tears of gratitude. Then, with such
an example before them, the crowd broke loose and
almost inundated the missionary with contributions,
until with bulging pockets he made his way to his
lodging house. Before he had gone far, however,
Soapy slipped out from between two buildings,
poked a gun into the parson’s stomach, and invited
him into the dark behind the buildings, where he
relieved him of the sum total of the mission contri-
bution and then sent him on his way.

But Soapy’s days were drawing to a close; in fact,
he became too much of an institution and began to
get on the nerves of the people of Skagway, to such
an extent that they decided it was time for him to
move to a warmer or healthier climate. They held

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 21

an organization meeting on one of the docks to
consider ways and means to accomplish their pur-
pose. Soapy, hearing of the meeting, decided to
attend in person, and wending his way down the
dock was stopped by a guard, with the result that
the guard went to heaven and Soapy also made an
exit via the bullet route.

But he still lives in memory, and among the in-
teresting sights of the town is a picture of Soapy,
painted on a silk banner, in a curio store, represent-
ing him sitting in an arm-chair in the morgue, look-
ing rather stiff and peaceful, becomingly arrayed in
a stiff white shirt and standing collar, with white
cuffs showing below the sleeves of his coat of solemn

black.

CHAPTER III

“The trails of the world be countless and most of the trails

be tried,

You tread on the heels of many, till you come where the
ways divide;

And one lies safe in the sunlight and the other is dreary
and wan,

Yet you look aslant at the Lone Trail, and the Lone Trail
lures you on.”

On the morning of August 4th we began our
journey over the mountains through the famous
White Pass, which is a thrilling experience even as
you travel in a modern railway observation car; for
the train starts at sea level and, following the tem-
pestuous Skagway River, it clings to the blasted
ledge along the mountains, climbing ever higher to-
ward the clouds. Far below in the purple gulf be-
tween the mountains lies the old White Pass trail,
where during the stampede of 1897 men dragged
their bleeding feet up the icy and rocky stairway,
carrying their provisions and outfit on their own
weary backs, in order to reach the top of the moun-
tain barrier, while a few of the more fortunate em-
ployed pack horses and dogs to carry their equip-

ment.
22

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 23

The distance from Skagway to the summit is only
eighteen miles, and you make it in comfort by rail
in about three hours; but in the times when the trail
was packed with gold-seekers in a solid stream it
took days to force their way to the top, and not all
who started were destined to arrive, as many died
or froze to death before they reached the top far
above timber-line. Here lies Summit Lake, no
bigger than a park pond, and here rises the mighty
Yukon. In the days that are gone the pioneers in
summer went down to timber and cut trees to build
boats, if they had not carried boats with them over
the White Pass trail, and following the waterways
through lake and canyon fought their way north.
In winter they built sledges to which they hitched
dogs, horses, or themselves, according to their
wealth. From the railway it is not an uncommon
sight to-day to look upon the wrecks of canoes and
boats and broken sledges that mark the northward
course of the empire.

For twenty-seven miles the railroad follows along
the shore of the blue, sunlit waters of Lake Ben-
‘net, from whose surface rise mountains of old rose
color, with the snow peaks in the background. In
the late afternoon we came to Miles Canyon and
White Horse Rapids, where the pioneers of the
gold rush played with death as their unwieldy rafts
and ill-constructed boats were whirled into the leap-
ing cauldron in the mad race to the North. Many

24 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

who played paid in full with their lives the price of
poor equipment and inexperience. Beyond the roar
of the rapids the train comes to the little town of
White Horse, which for us was jumping-off place,
from which our last letters and telegrams were to
be sent home and from which we faced the lone trail.

At the station we were met by Tom Dixon, one of
our guides, with whose handwriting we had become
familiar during the long months of sporadic cor-
respondence, and after much discussion of plans and
purposes with the efficient-looking woodsman we
adjourned to a very modern grocery and outfitters’
store to have our grub list put up and packed for the
morrow. On an interior expedition your grub list
practically reduces itself to the army menu, con-
sideration being given only to highly nutritive values.
The staples are rice, sugar, flour, tea, bacon, and
beans in large quantities, with a plentitude of dried
fruits, being apricots, apples, and peaches, which,
with raisins, dried onions, dried potatoes, etc., fur-
nish the proper amount of acid necessary to avoid
scurvy. In addition to coffee and cocoa or choco-
late there are many small items that go to make up
the load, but it is only the basic elements that really
count. Only a limited amount of lard is taken, as
the fat on the sheep, caribou, and bear furnishes an
abundance of lard for baking and cooking.

While we were giving directions for packing the
provisions, our cook, George Bruce Fisher, who was

a
rs ped r

i

I. FISHER, THE COOK, AND ALBERT, INDIAN GUIDE.
2. TAKING HORSES ACROSS SLIMS RIVER.

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON ~ 25

to accompany the expedition, came into the store
and was introduced all around. Fisher, we after-
wards learned, was a most amiable man who had
lived in the wilderness for years, a man of immense
general efficiency around-a camp, and a culinary
artist of real ability, and withal a smile that was
both perennial and contagious, even under circum-
stances that were trying. Bruce was particularly
happy on this evening as this was his annual visit to
town after a year’s isolation in the wilderness, but
we had to insist that he visé the grub list.

All went well until he came to the item: ‘“ Ten
cakes common soap.” Bruce looked at the item a
moment and scratched his head and, turning to us
with a look of wonderment, said: ‘‘ Ten cakes of
soup.” We then explained it was “soap” not
‘soup,’ whereupon Bruce commenced to grin and
finally exploded: ‘‘ Awh, hell, cut it out; we don’t
need it. Why, McGee, who was panning up on the
creek, had four cakes of soap that he had for three
years and when he went outside he tried to give ’em
away, but nobody would take ’em; they was all
right, too, ’cause three of ’em never had the wrap-
pers off and the other one didn’t even have the let-
ters on it wore off.” This was rich, but did not
sound well from a cook, but our doubts were need-
less as Bruce was the most cleanly cook it has been
my joy to know.

The morning of August 6 found us attired in

26 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

hunting clothes, ready for the trail; the provision
order had been packed in boxes and canvas bags and
looked like a real load. Dixon bought a half a
ton of horse feed, being oats at the current White
Horse quotation of $210 per ton; it seems that at
White Horse all prices for everything conceivable
are on a war basis of inflation, with all advantage
on the side of the seller and the purchaser having
no alternative except unconditional surrender. ‘The
prices for provisions are beyond belief, and ordi-
nary baled hay for horses costs $210 a ton, or just
ten cents a pound —the result being that horses
seldom eat hay.

Dixon had brought to White Horse a stout
wagon, drawn by four horses, and a_ buckboard
which would seat four of us, and the plan was to
travel by wagon and buckboard along the river val-
lies westward to Lake Kluane, a distance of one hun-
dred and sixty miles, and then abandon the wagon
for pack-train transport across the mountains. Ac-
cordingly we began to load the wagon and when we
had finished the transport groaned under a weight
of 7,500 pounds of provisions and outfit. We
started the wagon with George Wright as driver
and expedition horse wrangler, and Bruce the cook
and two of our party riding on the load; we started
it with a prayer, because we suspected our prayers
would be necessary to get the load to the top. The
sand was deep and soft, the wheels sank into the

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON) _27_

road, but George Wright was a wonderful driver,
and by frequently resting the horses on the way up
and by a continuous stream of persuasive conversa-
tion addressed to them while they leaned on the
traces, the crest was successfully negotiated.

Three hours later the buckboard, with the rest of
our party, took the trail of the transport wagon and
overtook it at the bottom of another smaller hill
about eight miles from town. The going all the
afternoon was very slow by reason of the hills, which
though not high were heavy, as the footing was soft.
Much of the way we walked along the trail, winding
through the woods of spruce and pine, while the
wagon creaked and groaned its slow onward course
around the hillsides. ‘The sunlight lingers long in
this north country even in August, and it seemed we
had been facing its declining western glare for many
hours until at 11.20 P.M. we went into camp beside
the trail.

The daily schedule is not at all a matter of a cer-
tain number of miles or a certain number of hours
on the road, but is determined solely by the con-

sideration of how much travel the horses can en-
dure, and that varies with the character of the coun-
try and the trail. The horses were given a good
feed of oats and then hobbled and turned loose to
feed upon lush grass growing beside a little pond,
while the rest of us put up tents and the fire was
started and supper cooked, after which we sat about |

28 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

the camp fire until the coals died down and the night
chill drove us to the warmth of our sleeping robes.

To get up with the sun in this Northland is to
stay up nearly all night, which no one ever thinks of
doing. I have no data on the rising hour of the
sun, but my diary shows that on the morning of
August 7 we were awakened by the call of Bruce:
** Muck-a-muck, muck-a-muck,’’ which is Siwash talk,
meaning ‘something to eat.’ We rolled out of
our eiderdown, to find the sun shining brightly even
if coldly upon a frosty landscape. Force of habit
is strong, so we plunged our heads into the pond,
manipulated the tooth brush, used a comb on our
hair, and dove into the oatmeal, ham and eggs, and
bread spread out on the ground exposed to our as-
saults. ‘The horses were caught, given a feed of
oats and harnessed, and we made an early start.

The going is rather fair, as we are traveling on
the winter stageroad from White Horse to Dawson,
which is utilized to transport freight and passengers
on sledges after the freeze-up ends steamer naviga-
tion on the Yukon. ‘The country is not interesting
as the route is largely through small timber, wind-
ing around the sides of small hills to slow up our
progress. We walked frequently this day, and
about eleven in the morning reached Tahkini River,
a rapidly flowing stream with an automatic ferry
which the Canadian Government considerately main-
tains for those who use the road.

1. “ MUCK-A-MUCK” AT DESERTED CABIN.
2. HOME CAMP ON ST. CLAIR RIVER.

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON _ 29

A stout steel cable, fifteen feet above the river
surface, is stretched from shore to shore, and ropes
attached to windlasses on both ends of the sixty-foot
ferry barge lead to two steel pulleys which run
freely upon the cables, as trolley wheels on a wire.
When the barge is loaded you wind up the front
windlass a bit in order that the side of the barge
may be a little out of parallel with the steel cable
and the course a diagonal across the current but
heading slightly up-stream; the current does the rest,
for, as it strikes the side of the barge, it propels the
craft forward until it slides into the mud on the
other bank, where you ease the wagon down the
gang-plank and continue among the hills.

At high noon we stopped at a small pond and
turned the weary horses out to roll and to feed and
generally rest up for a couple of hours, during which
we cooked dinner and had our “ muck-a-muck.”’
The small black flies were out by the millions with
an activity that was akin to that of the busy bee, and
head nets became decidedly in vogue.

In the afternoon we left behind us the Dawson
trail and branched off to the westward on a less
frequently traveled wagon track. The pace, how-
ever, was faster, as we ceased plodding up hill and
down dale and consistently followed the valley of
the Takini River. In the late afternoon we crossed
over Little River, which is a rapid, rushing affair
of not much width and which seems to be the boun-

30 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

dary of the mosquito country, as we immediately
encountered a heavy advance guard and met rein-
forcements with every mile we progressed.

Along the wagon tracks we saw many gophers,
which are quite like the Western prairie dogs and
are quite edible, but we were unable to secure any
of them for supper as they would invariably totter
into their burrows when shot, unless they were in-
stantly killed. ‘The gopher really leads a life of
unusual hazard in this country as they are much
sought after by the Indians, who use their skins for
blankets and their flesh for food, and when they are
not being hunted by the natives they are hunted by
the grizzly bears, that tear up the ground in digging
the gopher from the burrow. Our luck was bet-
ter with the birds, as Wolcott and Hoyt with their
.22 rifles succeeded in adding prairie chicken and
partridge to our provender.

About five o’clock it began to get cold, and in an
hour the mosquitoes had gone to whatever place the
persistent pests go to get warm. The horses were
going slowly and stopping frequently, so we decided
to camp by the roadside about 7.30, and hobbled the
horses and turned them loose for the night. After
supper we sat about the fire and watched a wonder-
ful moon rise across the snow-clad mountain peaks
cutting the sky.

August 8 dawned bright and cold with a half an
inch of ice on the water buckets and the air as crisp

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON -— 31

as fresh lettuce. The horses, which we had hob-
bled and turned out to feed the night before, were
nowhere to be seen, and there was not even a sus-
picion of a tinkle in the frosty air from the bells tied ©
about their necks, so we started to track them, and
found they had only rambled about four miles on
the back track. These horses are really wonders
when it comes to traveling at the wrong time; in
spite of having their front feet hobbled close to-
gether, when the wild impulse strikes they start out
jumping, kangaroo fashion, covering distance at a
rapid pace. In spite of our late start we made good
time on the road with not many hills, and about 6
P.M. descended the long sand-hill and came to Cham-
pagne Landing at the bend of the Dezadeash River.

This place is rather interesting, as a man named
‘‘ Shorty ’’ Chambers, inspired by a belief in the de-
velopment of mining in this part of the country, has
built a large cabin for himself with many bunks for
prospective travelers, besides a fine large log barn for
his own horses and the horses of others. And while
he waits for the country to grow he hauls provisions
and general supplies of all kinds from White Horse,
which he places in a store building, also of logs, and
these supplies he trades and sells to the Indians for
furs. The Indians have built many winter cabins
of logs along the river front, and “ Shorty” does a
very large fur business at an excellent profit with his
native customers. His place looks like a very up-to-

32 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

date ranch, with its windmill to pump water into
the cabin; it is immaculately clean and his native
wife is an excellent cook.

While the rest of us put up the tents and made
camp for the night, Wolcott and Bettle went down
to the river and killed fish for supper. Just across
the river are some high mountains that look as if
they ought to be fine sheep ranges, but Dixon says
they have been killed off long ago by the Indians,
who have also killed off the caribou in this part of
the country, and that in order to get hunting we have
to travel far beyond the Indians’ range of activities.

We have now been on the road three days, and
sixty-five miles to the westward looms the snow cur-
tains of the St. Elias range, and when we reach the
foot of those first mountains we are not halfway to
our hunting grounds which are north and west in
the maze of mountains. One is almost inclined to
sing an ancient song: ‘“‘ We don’t know where
we're going, but we’re on the way,’’ but since the
horses are standing up well and every one is cheer-
ful, it looks as if we were sometime destined to
reach the promised land.

Six o’clock was our starting hour this morning of
August 9, the horses evidently being too tired to
run away during the night. ‘There were a few bad
sand-hills early in the day, but after a couple of
hours we found ourselves in the broad valley, six
miles wide, through which winds the ribbon of the

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON — 33

Dezadeash River. It has been a beautifully bright,
clear day, but the wind from the west is cold and
penetrating, and both sweaters and gloves are wel-
come additions to our outfit. The valley is exceed-
ingly level, with a floor of sand and small pebbles;
it is evidently the bottom of an immense, ancient,
glacial lake, as the mountains on each side about
four hundred feet up show distinct beaches extending
for miles as the ancient water level. At noon the
black flies were out in force, but after we got under
way again we had but little annoyance from them.
In the afternoon our course again led us into the
hills where the footing was soft, and only by hard
work did we keep from being bogged up in the mud.

At one point, in order to avoid a deep gulch
washed out by the rains, we made a slight detour
and ran into a nasty marshy condition. The light
buckboard pulled through with but little difficulty,
but the heavily loaded transport wagon went into
the muck and slime on one side up to the hubs and
simply died. Wright addressed the horses in every
known language, and in spite of his urging and his
best line of talk, with the aid of four of us putting
our shoulders to the wheels, the wagon did not
budge. We then cut trees into short lengths and
drove them into the mud under the wheels in order
to make an artificial bottom to the seemingly bot-
tomless slime, but without avail. Finally we ob-
tained some trees about twenty feet long and seven

34 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

inches in diameter and by piling logs beside the hub
and using the long tree for a lever, we pried the back
wheel out of the mud and blocked it. We gave the
front wheel the same treatment, and then started
the horses and in this way gained about two feet ad-
vance. After repeating this procedure we reached
solid ground and cruised ahead, having lost only
about an hour and a half.

After leaving the mudhole we made excellent time,
mostly down-grade, and late in the afternoon came
to the Aishihik River, which comes from a large
lake of the same name on the north and with tre-
mendous force rips and roars through a narrow can-
yon across which is a very fair log bridge. There
are a number of Indian log cabins at this point, but
the Indians are all away at the lake fishing for their
winter supply of dog and man food, being white
fish and salmon, which are dried and smoked for
preservation. Some one suggested a bath, but so
momentous a suggestion could not be easily decided,
so we held a council of war, and finally decided the
process could be more comfortably undertaken now
than later when we should be in higher altitudes.
The outriders of the St. Elias range are only thirty
miles away as the crow flies, and seem much nearer
as the declining sunlight falls across their wonder-
ful snow crests.

August 10. We did not trouble to put up the
tents last night as it was very clear and cold, and

I. OUTRIDERS OF ST. ELIAS RANGE.
2, ACROSS BEAR CREEK SUMMIT.

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 35

this morning found us up for breakfast at four
o’clock. Old Snorty and Ginger, two of the horses,
in spite of being hobbled, rambled away, and Dixon
went after them. They certainly must have de-
cided to take a journey, for Dixon followed their
trail for a number of miles before he heard their
bells down in the river bottom; in fact, they had
strayed eight miles from camp in spite of hobbles,
and it was nearly nine o’clock when we got them
back and ready to start.

After climbing a-very high and difficult sand-hill
we went down into the broad bottom land, and not-
withstanding our late start we lunched at Marshall.
Creek, fifteen miles from our starting point of the
morning. The afternoon found us making fast
time along the bottom lands which have become
much wider, being about twenty miles across and
covered with fine grass feed. The black flies were
thick, but even the transport horses trotted along
the level course so the flies did not annoy greatly.
At several points our trail cuts through willow tim-
bers running down into the bottoms.

Here we note the remains of an Indian “‘ fence,”’
utilized in making a “drive” for caribou. The
method was certainly simple and, to the writer, a
novel one for slaughtering game that once infested
this region. The Indians decided on a course to
build the fence and then went through the timber
along the predetermined line, chopping the trees

36 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

at a height of three feet and five feet, but only cut-
ting sufficiently deep to enable them to push the trees
over in the direction of the line, with the trunk still
held at the three-foot and five-foot cutting, thus
making two fairly good rails or barriers, the other
end of the tree being held nearly level by reason of
the spreading top branches. Other trees along the
line would be felled in the same manner, one slightly
overlapping the other, and so on for many miles,
until an effective, continuous barrier or fence was
erected, ofttimes fifteen miles long..

Another “fence” was similarly constructed at
some considerable distance, sometimes two miles,
from the first fence, running in the same general di-
rection, but always converging with the other
“fence”? at an apex, which was usually at a draw
or pocket in the mountains with high bluffs. At
the proper time the entire tribe would gather, and
the hunters with bows and arrows would post them-
selves in force at the apex of the two “ fences”’ in
the pocket or blind canyon in the mountains. The
remainder of the tribe, men, women, and children,
in great numbers would go out where the caribou
were ranging, and form an immense circle open only
on the side that led between the two “ fences.”’
Then with much noise and even igniting trees, they
would close in slowly on the caribou herds, which
inevitably took the apparently easiest course between
the ‘‘ fences”? and were driven to slaughter by the

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 37

hunters in the blind canyon. These “ fences’ were
in such condition as to indicate that they had been
made at no very remote period, but they are no
longer used in this locality as the caribou have been
exterminated on this particular range.

In the late afternoon we left the bottom land at
a point where the Dezadeash turns south, through
a gap in the towering St. Elias range, and joins the
Alsek River, which tears its way to the Pacific.
Our road began to climb upward through the timber,
following nearly a course parallel to the noisy Bear
Creek coming down from the north. We camped
at the foot of Bear Creek Mountain about seven
o’clock and put up tents, as rain threatened. After
supper a serious-minded rain put in its appearance,
but across the valley a heavy snow was falling on
the St. Elias range. As the rain persisted, making
things uncomfortable, we turned into our tents for
an early start up the summit the following day.

August 11. We were up and ready to start at
6 A.M., with the road in bad condition after the rain
which lasted all night, and it is a cold gloomy day
with the leaden clouds hanging low on the moun-
tains. Rivulets of water were running down the
wagon tracks as we climbed upward to Bear Creek
Pass with the wind blowing strong in our faces and
the transport splashing in the mud behind us. A
fresh grizzly track crossing the muddy wagon road
looked promising, but we did not feel we had time

38 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

to follow into the heavy timber. A red: fox, sur-
prised by the buckboard, looked at the occupants
no farther away than forty yards, while a silver gray
fox was seen a bit later, trotting along three hun-
dred feet away; we did not attempt to molest them
as the fur was not prime.

After a long hard pull we reached the summit at
an altitude of 2880 feet and began to slide down the
boggy road at a pace that quite made up for our
tedious ascent, so that by noon we had reached the
foot of the mountain, and lunched at Jarvis River.
Some of us caught grayling for our supper, and after
the horses had fed and rested a couple of hours we
forded the Jarvis River and continued our westward
course. 7

The buckboard was to be driven rapidly in an ef-
fort to reach Kluane Lake that night, while it was
planned to drive the transport as far as possible and
camp for the night. A short distance after starting
we began to wind our slow way up Boutelier Moun-
tain, giving the horses frequent rests, during which
we tried with .22 rifles for ducks on the little ponds
but without success.

On our way up it began to rain, and the farther
we ascended the harder it rained and the worse the
roads became, until about six o’clock, with a final
lurch and groan, the transport sank in the clay up to
the axles within three hundred feet of the summit of
Boutelier Pass. George Wright tried cussing and

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON = 39

all of us tried cussing, separately and in unison, but
it did not seem to help. Then we got down to real
work, collected logs, and tried to block and pry the
wagon out of the tenacious mire, but all to no pur-
pose. |

For two hours we worked with icy fingers in the
midst of the driving rain, men and horses striving to
release the wagon, while the icy peaks close by on
our left with their heavy mantle of new-fallen snow
added their chill to our discomfort. We finally de-
cided that, since we could not pull up to the summit,
we would hitch the horses to the back of the trans-
port and with gravity in our favor pull down-hill;
but this did not work well, for while we pulled out
of the particular spot where we were mired, we
only succeeded in getting the wagon diagonally
across the road still stuck in the mud and tilting
down-hill at an angle that threatened to capsize at
any attempt at movement.

There was nothing left but to unload the trans-
port, so in the gathering gloom we unpacked half
the load and transported flour, feed, sugar, and
many boxes upon our backs to the summit of the
pass. Then with our horses we were able to bring
up the wagon to the top, 2750 feet high, where
everything was loaded, and we traveled as far as
an abandoned log stable with leaky roof, which had
been used during the gold stampede.

Fisher made the fire, while George looked after

40 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

the horses, and Hoyt, with the writer, fixed up a
place for our sleeping robes in the stable; Wolcott
was busy cleaning fish. Pitch dark we sat in the
rain and ate supper, which was not particularly good,
as Wolcott had forgotten grayling have scales, so
we had them just as ‘‘ God and Nature made them,
without any improvements,” and then went to sleep
in the filthy stable with the rain leaking through,
but still cheerful with the thought that the morrow
would bring us to Lake Kluane, where we would
abandon the slow-going wagon transport in favor of
pack train.

CHAPTER IV.

“T am the land that listens, I am the land that broods;
Steeped in eternal beauty, crystalline waters and woods.
Long I have waited lonely, shunned as a thing accurst,
Monstrous, moody, pathetic, the last of the lands and the

first.”

August 12. Making an early start from our
camp on Boutelier, we traveled rapidly down the
slope and at 9 A.M. came to the sunlit shores of
beautiful Lake Kluane, an emerald-tinted body of
water, forty-five miles long, with a setting of ma-
jestic snow peaks. ‘This is the end of the wagon
trail, and from this point we follow a dwindling
horse trail which reaches a vanishing point, after
which we make our own trail to the inner fastnesses
of the mountains.

At Lake Kluane our forces were augmented by
Jim Baker, one of our guides, a quiet genial man of
about forty-five years, whose sole vocation in life
has been to hunt and trap. Coming from Tennes-
see at an early age, his younger manhood was spent
in the West hunting game to supply meat to the lum-
ber and mining camps. During the gold stampede
to the Yukon he came north with the mining hordes,
consistently resisted the mining fever, and continued

4I

42 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

to hunt game to supply the miners with fresh meat.
Of late years he has been engaged in trapping fur-
bearing animals and his reputation is that of a man
who knows game.

Lake Kluane is forty-five miles long, and as part
of our horses are at the lower end of the lake and
the greater part are at the northern end, we decided
to take most of our provisions and outfit to the
upper end of the lake by two twenty-foot boats,
while some of us rounded up the horses at the lower
end of the lake. Accordingly late in the afternoon
Jim Baker and George Wright, with Hoyt and Wol-
cott, started for the lower end of the lake and suc-
ceeded in rounding up the horses preparatory to get-
ting them across the Slims River, a glacial stream
half a mile wide, with strong current and full of
quicksands.

There is a skiff on either side of the river and one
horse was tied behind the skiff, and as the oarsmen
row across the rest of the horses are driven into the
water behind the towed horse; and as they usually
follow a lead horse, the crossing was successfully
made without much difficulty, except one horse was
swept down-stream about one hundred yards and
floundered around before he could reach solid foot-
ing on the bank; after reaching which the party pro-
ceeded to Jim Baker’s cabin for the night, to make
an early start up the lake the following day.

Dixon the guide, with Bettle and the writer,

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 43

started out with one of the boats, leaving Bruce the
cook, with Cutting, to come along with the second
boat. After proceeding about ten miles we struck
a heavy squall and our boat being heavily loaded
with only three inches of gunwale above water line,
we ran before the wind for the western shore, which
we reached about 6.30. After unloading our sup-
plies on the beach and erecting tent, one of us lo-
cated a band of sheep on the mountain, four miles
from camp, and feeding at an altitude of about five
thousand feet.

We studied the mountain through our glasses for
a few minutes and decided that while we would have
to stalk them almost straight up, yet with good luck
and the protection of a small draw we would have
a chance of getting within shooting distance.

Dixon and the writer started up a canyon with a
wild stream roaring through the rocks, and after
proceeding a couple of miles it became evident we
must climb the walls and get up on the mountain
slope. The walls were as nearly perpendicular as
any bit of natural architecture the writer had ever.
assayed, but they were mostly of rock with little soil
to make uncertain footing, so by using hands and
feet we clung to the rocky face, sometimes going
up, sometimes making our way carefully across the
face to a more favorable point of ascent, and finally
reached the top about six hundred feet up the moun-
tain. After waiting a moment to get a new supply ©

44 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

of breath, we hurried through the timber with a
very poor footing of moss, through which we would
sink every step into the watery muck beneath.

Above timber line we stopped to take a look at
the sheep, which turned out to be ewes, and as they
had somewhat shifted their position we traveled up
a small gulch in plain sight of the band. Part of
the time we bent double in order to take advantage
of the screen of low willows, and in the clear places
we crawled along until we would reach another wil-
low patch. In this slow manner we came to the base
where the mountain rises abruptly into the clouds,
and from which point we were hidden from the
sheep, which as last seen were about fifteen hundred
feet above us. Now began the stalk up the tundra-
covered slope where our feet sank into the soft,
matted roots. Dixon, though about fifty years old,
traveled very fast, with the writer straining every
aching muscle to follow his rapid pace. ‘The tundra
was soon left behind and we began to mount up the
rock slope.

The writer was breathing like a steam-engine
and had absolutely reached the limits of his efforts
when we arrived at the level where the sheep had
last been seen, and could go no farther without stop-
ping to rest, as heart was racing painfully and leg
muscles cramped under the strain of the ascent; yet
there wads no time to rest as it was 9.20 P.M., the
sheep had stopped feeding and were going to the

ee

as a

1. VALLEY OF THE DONJECK RIVER,
2. THE SHORE OF LAKE KLUANE.
3. WRITER UPON TUNDRA BARRENS.

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 45

top for the night, and the mists were creeping lower
down the mountain. As only a few minutes of light
for shooting remained, we decided Dixon should try
to rush up to within shooting distance.

The writer sat down to watch the guide who,
with the agility of a goat, made marvelous speed up
the rock slopes, while the writer wondered if his
own legs and wind would ever permit of a like feat.
About one thousand feet above the guide paused for
a shot, the flame belched from the gun, but there
was no sound, the shot had missed its mark; a sec-
ond flash from the muzzle and out of the misty haze
came rolling a white ball, bounding from rock to
rock, sliding and tumbling, until far below the dead
sheep stopped almost at timber line. After par-
tially dressing the sheep to reduce the superfluous
weight we started to drag it down to camp, and
after stumbling about in the darkness in the thick
timber finally reached our fire on the beach at 11.30
P.M.

I confided to Dixon that I had named that par-
ticular mountain after myself to commemorate the
occasion of my first sheep hunt in the Yukon, on
which occasion I had struggled hard but had
“died.” Dixon is rather consoling, however, as he
tells me that since my wind and legs are not accus-
tomed to lifting one hundred and seventy pounds up
a mountain, I did surprisingly well to “ die’ so far
up the mountain, and if the light had permitted a

46 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

brief breathing space, I would have easily made the
kill, but as to this we shall see later.

August 13. Dixon the guide and myself, an ex-
perienced hunter, were last night guilty of something
that would almost shame a tenderfoot. After hav-
ing a midnight supper, we placed both of our rifles
under the tarpaulin covering our provision pile on
the beach, and then took the sheep up to our tent
one hundred yards distant in the timber, and leaving
the sheep just outside we rolled into our robes. In
the middle of the night we were awakened by heavy
foot-falls of a grizzly just outside the tent, trying
to carry off our sheep; we reached for our rifles,
only to remember they were down on the beach, so
instead of shooting the bear, Dixon yelled at him
and frightened him away from the sheep.

After breakfast we loaded the boat and started up
the lake, but the wind failed us and we had to row,
which was very slow and tedious work. At noon
we went ashore and cooked many pounds of most
delicious sheep chops. As a strong head wind had
sprung up we decided to wait until Baker and
Wright with the rest of the party should come along
with the horses, and about three o’clock they came
up tous. We immediately hitched a three-hundred-
foot tow-line to two of the horses, and thus pro-
ceeded until 11.30 at night we saw the welcome light
in Morley Bones’ cabin at the end of Kluane.

Bones had been engaged by Dixon to join our

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 47

expedition as one of the guides, so we looked him
over with some considerable interest, as we met in
the dim candle-light. When I first met him, I was
tremendously impressed with his wonderful crop of
hair, which was at least ten inches long and gave him
the appearance of a human chrysanthemum. As he
came in the cabin I naively inquired, ‘‘ Who are
you?”’ to which he replied: ‘‘ Bones, merely
Bones.” Among the first white men to penetrate
into this remote spot in the interior, he has clung to
his wilderness home, sometimes engaging in panning
gold, sometimes hunting and trapping, but always
roaming about the unexplored corners of the coun-
try. He is an earnest, hard worker, not given to
bombast, an excellent guide and a conservative, and
a man whose reputation for square dealing is envi-
able. :
Here also we were joined by another guide, Jack
Hayden, one of those spontaneously likeable men,
who look you in the eye and tell you nothing but the
truth of things. Hayden has always been an out-
door man; he has driven stage through the moun-
tains of Colorado, been a cow-puncher in Texas,
mushed and mucked and delved on the Klondike.
He was with Mr. Sheldon in the Mt. McKinley dis-
trict when Sheldon was studying and making ob-
servations on the habits and ranges of mountain
sheep. A number of years ago Hayden, nearly
down and out and, as he expresses it, ‘“‘ with twenty

48 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

dollars in my ragged trousers, a gun, a smile, and a
one-eyed dog,’ came to Kluane River, where he be-
gun to hunt andtrap. The trapping was profitable,
and now he has a comfortable cabin that shelters his
native wife and several children to whom he is de-
voted and of whom he speaks with a fine spirit of
tender and genuine affection.

The last member of our party is an Indian named
Albert, whom Dixon is taking along as a handy man,
to be used as guide, or horse wrangler, or helper to
the cook as occasion demands. It is difficult to re-
member that Albert is an Indian as his short stature,
his slant eyes, and facial contour are almost identical
with the Japanese. He is the son of a chieftain, and
a full blood, and unquestionably of Asiatic descent.

August 14. ‘This has been a busy day: the horses
have been rounded up and shod, the pack saddles,
riding saddles, blankets, cinch ropes, and hobbles
alotted to each, and preparations of all sorts made
for the start to-morrow morning. It has taken
much time to unpack our boxes and bags of provi-
sions and distribute them in canvas panniers for side
packs, so that each pannier shall balance the other
in weight and bulk, but at last it is finished. Fisher
is busy baking many loaves of bread and making
sandwiches, which each man will take for his noon-
day meal to-morrow, as we shall be crossing the
mountains and there will be no time to stop and no
fuel with which to cook, if we should stop. While

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 49

the cooking and baking progresses the rest of us are
disposed upon boxes, and upon Bones’ bunk, or on
some bear skins on the floor, variously engaged in
smoking, greasing our boots, writing our diary, or
talking about various wild animals we have known.
Bones tells a remarkable story of a black wolf that
has been following him about for a number of
months, and which howls upon his trail at night, and
which he has seen within one hundred yards of his
camp several times. Fisher thinks the wolf is lonely
and is simply hanging around “ for company sake ”’;
the rest of us, having had no experience with sociable
timber wolves, have no theories to advance and de-
cide we will get some sleep.

August 15. It was nine-thirty by the time we had
all the horses packed with their loads, and to the
merry tinkling of many bells Bones led the way up
the narrow trail leading westward, while pack ani-
mals and hunters and guides on saddle horses strung
out in single file behind. The trail led through the
timber for nine miles until we came to the broad bot-
tom land covered with fine grass, through which
flows the Duke River, a noisy, glacial stream, which,
though rapid, was not too high this early in the day
to make crossing difficult. ‘The bank of the Duke
rises almost straight up two hundred feet to a bench,
and it was almost unbelievable that pack horses
loaded with two hundred and fifty pounds each could

make the top on such a steep incline.

50 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

We rested the horses for a few minutes and then
began our ascent of the Burwash Mountains, wind-
ing around the sides of the mountains through the
ever-dwindling spruce timber which we left behind
at noon, and came out upon the tundra-covered
mountains, where we stopped to give the horses a
rest while we ate sandwiches and kept a close watch
on the pack animals to keep them from lying down
and rolling with their burdens.

A whole volume might be written upon the subject
of the tundras of the Yukon, and since they play an
important part in retarding exploration and travel
in this surprising land, we must take note of them.
This mountain covering of tundra is innocent enough
to look at; it appears to be simply a covering of
small, brownish-green bushes about twelve inches
high, growing so closely together as to form a con-
tinuous carpet, but when the traveler comes to step
on the carpet he finds the entire mass of vegetation
is simply floating upon a bed of watery mire into
which he sinks above his ankles. How the moisture
comes to be there the writer does not know and has
no theory, and its presence is too persistent a fact
to encourage much theorizing, as the tundra with
its muck and mire is found on the very tops of the
Burwash Mountains as well as on the steep slopes,
where according to all rules it ought to be drained
off, but is not.

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON es

But little wonder the Indian tribes do not go to
the game ranges across this range of hills, as they
say the tundra was made by the spirits of the ani-
mals that live in the St. Elias range to keep the
hunters away and make the game secure: and we
agree with the Indian. Every step we took and
every step our horses took, both man and beast sank
into the miry mass, making it difficult enough for
man but most difficult for the heavily laden pack
animals, which frequently were in an almost hopeless
state bogged down above the knees. On the way
across we found several carcases of horses belonging
to some prospectors, which, unable to survive the
persistent grip of the mire, had fallen exhausted and
perished on the mountain.

Its continuity seems to be without end, for no
sooner have we toiled slowly to the top of one ridge,
expecting it to be the last, than another somewhat
higher confronts us, to ascend which we travel down
the one we have climbed with such effort and then
mount the higher ridge ahead. After traveling this
way for hours a feeling of resentment creeps over
one, until a few more hours fixes the conviction that
the land is “‘ accurst.’’ On either side lie the mighty
snow peaks, searing the sky, cold, aloof and imper-
sonal finalities, while between in unending ridges
rolls the colorless tundra; I presume it is really a
beautiful picture if one could look upon it without

52 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

experiencing it, but at the moment of writing the
perspective is too close to permit appreciation of any
element of beauty.

Late in the afternoon of what has been a really
staggering day we passed over the highest ridge of
Burwash Pass and approached an oasis of real and
solid ground, almost surrounded by morass, in which
a pack horse, named “ Snorty,” completely bogged
and fell down; but by working on him, fore and aft,
we finally landed him on terra firma, where we went
into camp for the night. A thick patch of willows
furnished excellent cover for large flocks of Arctic
ptarmigan, but Wolcott and Hoyt with .22 calibre
rifles killed thirty-six of the birds in a very brief
time for supper. There is no grass for horse feed
anywhere near us, but these Yukon horses have be-
come accustomed to eating willows, upon which they
feed like a moose, so we have hobbled and turned
them loose in the willow patch, and then rolled our
weary bodies in the sleeping robes, thankful for the
distance we had covered during the day and hopeful
of completing the crossing on the morrow.

August 16. At four o’clock we were up and pre-
pared our simple toilet, which consisted of merely
giving ourselves a good shake and adding a sweater
to our already clothed backs, for it was freezing cold,
even though a bright and cloudless day. After
packing the horses we again started across the
tundra, following the westward course of Wade

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 53

Creek, flowing out of a small lake of the same name
near by our camp. We picked up many ptarmigan
as we went forward, and about eleven oa’clock
reached timber line and in an hour descended to the
valley of the Donjeck River, where horses were un-
packed and turned out for two hours to feed upon
the pea vine called ‘‘ Donjeck”’ by the Indians, and
which grows abundantly in the four-mile-wide bot-
tom land.

The horses prefer this pea vine to grass, and
Bones winters his horses in this valley with no other
feed. Though hemmed by mountains of eternal
snow, rising from the river level, these horses simply
paw down through the white blanket and thrive on
** Donjeck ’’ during the long Arctic winter.

In the afternoon we made a fresh start for ford-
ing the Donjeck River, a glacial stream which we
found to be high by reason of the melting of the ice
above. In the morning these glacial streams are
low, but as the sun’s rays linger upon the ice fields
they naturally melt and the rivers rise rapidly until
about six o’clock in the afternoon, when they begin
to subside until the next day. This river is exceed-
ingly swift and divided into many channels, all of
which have dangerous quicksands. After crossing
several branches, Dixon led the way into another,
but his horse struck quicksand and turned back, after
which we found a safe crossing. The pack horses
were brought to a crossing we had already tested,

54 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

and one horse was led across with his tail tied to the
halter of a second horse and so on, until we, had
them all following a leader safely across the fords.

We now turned our course northward, following
the river along the gravel bottom land, until we
came to Wolverine Creek, rushing down from the
westward between the mountains. Here we went
into camp to rest the horses a few days, while we
try some hunting back in the first range of moun-
tains.

1. ALONG THE WOLVERINE RIVER BOTTOMS.
2. FORDING THE DONJECK RIVER.

CHAPTER V

“There where the mighty mountains bare their fangs unto
the moon,
There where the sullen sun-dogs glare in the snow-bright
bitter moon,
And the glacier-glutted streams sweep down at the clarion
call of June.” ;

August 17. Clear and cold morning. We de-
cided that Hoyt and Wolcott will take Jim Baker
and go down the Donjeck looking for grizzlies,
Cutting and Bettle will go up on the mountains for
sheep, while Hayden and the writer will try for
caribou on the barrens. At breakfast Bones inquired
if we heard the wolf howling on the bar last night,
and tells us it is the same wolf that has been follow-
ing him around for a number of months. Jim Baker
looked at Bones for a moment, gazing steadily at
his “‘ hayrack head of hair,” and without a suspicion
of a smile gravely drawled, ‘‘ Wal, if I had a varmit
trailin’ me around like that all summer it strikes
me I would get my hair cut so the wolf would learn
I was a human bein’ and not mistake me for some
other varmit.”” Every one exploded except Bones
and Baker, the latter continuing to gaze at Bones a

55

56 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

moment and then indulging in a smile and a low
chuckle.

Saddling our horses we started out for the hunt-
ing grounds, going up the canyon of Wolverine
Creek about eight miles and then striking to the left
through a pass in the mountains. Arrived at the
top Dixon, with Cutting and Bettle, continued ahead
while the writer and Hayden branched to the right
across the caribou barrens, which are rolling tundra-
covered mountains about two thousand five hundred
feet high and above timber line. We traveled about
twenty miles, stopping on the summit of each butte
to survey the country around us through our power-
ful binoculars, and though the country was barren
of timber for many miles we saw not a single cari-
bou, though their tracks were frequent.

The wind blew cold from the glacial fields to the
westward; we saw many fresh diggings, where griz-
zlies had been searching for gophers, but our hunt
discovered no game of any kind. At six o'clock
we came down the mountain and reached camp about
ten o'clock, where we found the other hunters who
had come in earlier.

Cutting and Bettle, after leaving us in the morn-
ing, had located forty-five sheep near the top of a
mountain and after looking over the country with
glasses picked out a course by which they might
climb above the band to within shooting distance.
After a long stalk they had approached within a

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 57

mile of their quarry, when the wind shifted as wind
has the disagreeable habit of doing; the sheep got
the scent of the hunters, and they were obliged to
return to camp for the day.

Hoyt and Wolcott with Baker went down the
Donjeck about twelve miles looking for bears, but
while they saw numerous diggings where the griz-
zlies had been hunting gophers and mice, nothing
in the bear line came in sight. They located six
caribou, however, on a bench, but on using the
glasses it was observed that the heads were small,
so they did not try for them. We have berated
Jim and his hunters rather unmercifully because the
camp is out of fresh meat and yet they deliberately
turned back from a meat supply, but Dixon told them
his hunters and the writer would bring in meat sup-
ply even if we didn’t get any heads worth while, so
it is a bit far fetched to blame Baker for not get-
ting meat. The ham, however, had an unusually
salty taste that night.

August 18. We decided to move our camp far-
ther into the mountains on the head-waters of Wol-
verine Creek, and to hunt across the caribou bar-
rens while the pack train follows the easier course
along the bottom of the creek. Arrived at the point
where we went through the pass on yesterday’s fruit-
less hunt, Hoyt and the writer located six rams on
a mountain four miles up the creek so we decided
to go after the rams, while Wolcott, Bettle, and

58 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

Cutting, with Baker and Dixon, went up the pass
and across the caribou barrens.

After Hoyt and the writer had gone up the creek
about four miles, we tied our horses and started
through the timber for the base of the mountain
where we had located the rams. After consider-
able work we came out on a knoll to take a look at
their heads before beginning our stalk, but not a
ram was to be seen; we looked over every foot of
the mountain for an hour, and then concluded the
game had climbed to the top and gone over the
range where it was useless to follow. There was
nothing to do but return to our horses in the creek
bottom where the pack train overtook us, and we
proceeded up through the canyon and camped at the
last timber on Wolverine Creek.

Our other hunters had very much better luck, for
after climbing to the barrens they located a caribou
four miles away and began a stalk with a favoring
wind. The caribou was lying down on the slope of
a high butte, so the hunters climbed above the ani-
mal and then sat down to recover their breath and
steady down a bit before shooting. Wolcott
opened fire and missed with two shots at one hun-
dred and fifty yards. The caribou started to run
around the slope, and Cutting took him behind the
shoulder and killed with a single shot. We after-
wards discovered Wolcott’s sight was one six-
teenth of an inch off center, though at the time Wol-

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 59

cott was feeling very low by reason of his poor
shooting. |

While Cutting’s caribou was being decapitated,
Bettle with Baker located a bull about a mile away,
but in a difficult situation for a shot. They stalked
him for two hours and finally climbed above him,
from which vantage point Bettle put him out with
two shots in the neck. Late in the evening the two
successful hunters walked into camp, their horses
loaded with a supply of caribou meat besides the two
heads. Cutting’s trophy is rather small with only
thirty-two points. Bettle’s head has thirty-six
points, fifty-seven and one-half inches length of
guard horns, and thirty-eight and one-half inches
spread —a nice medium head.

August 19. The horse feed is very scarce about
this camp and the willows are few and far between,
so the horses have rambled off during the night.
We decided not to wait for the horses to be rounded
up, but to hunt afoot. Baker and Wolcott went up
the creek to the forks and took the left branch,
traveling in the canyon up to the glacier.

They saw no sheep whatever until they were
nearly up to the ice fields; in fact, at this time of the
year it is almost useless to go after sheep unless you
are prepared to go up to the glaciers, as in summer
time and early fall they feed very high up on the
mountains on a round leaf grass growing near the
glacial fields. Coming up to the ice fields they saw

60 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

on the mountain on either side of the canyon over
five hundred sheep, which the glasses showed to be
ewes and lambs, but they finally located a small
bunch of rams upon the pinnacles. After stalking |
nearer and looking them over carefully with the
glasses, they decided not to shoot as the heads were
too small, and the true sportsman dislikes to kill un-
less for food or to obtain what appears to be a fine
head; so they merely sat down and watched the beau-
tiful animals feeding on the mountains and resting
among the crags until it was time to start for camp,
where they arrived at nine o'clock, having traveled
twenty-five miles over rocky creek bottoms most of
the distance.

Hoyt and the writer, with Dixon, the guide,
started up the canyon and six miles up at the forks
crossed the Wolverine on the rocks at low water
and climbed out of the canyon to a bench several
hundred feet above. When you hunt the Osborni
caribou you do not wander aimlessly around look-
ing for game, but you start out deliberately and se-
lect the highest barren mountain top from which
vantage point you can see all the game within pos-
sible stalking distance. You may locate a number
of herds on the way up, but you do not permit your-
self to be diverted from the toilsome pleasure of
climbing that highest peak.

This would seem like a great waste of time and
energy to climb to such a height and after you have

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 61

arrived immediately start to descend in order to
stalk the game, but undoubtedly it is the correct
method, for the reason that when you have reached
the high peak you can look at every herd of caribou
within ten miles and you look over each herd
through the glasses and determine which has the
best-looking heads. ‘Then you take note of the to-
pography of the country between yourself and the
quarry and determine the method of your stalk,
whether you will try to get above, behind, or to one
side of them, all depending upon direction of wind
and natural cover.

We decided upon a peak several miles distant,
rising about four thousand feet; it looked like a
large mountain and quite an undertaking to ascend
merely to have a look at the country, but we went up
the tundra-covered slope and finally reached the top;
my 5x7 camera seemed to weigh a ton. On the
way up we saw a cow and a calf caribou below us
and from the crest we located a herd of seventy on
the sky line about twelve miles away. The glasses
showed a number of small bulls in the band and two
good-sized bulls, but we decided the wind was wrong
and the distance too great for a stalk, so turned our
attention to another herd about three miles away,
feeding on the slough grass near the foot of the gla-
cier. The glass showed these all to be cows, so we
looked over several other herds that had nothing
promising.

62 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

At last we spotted six bulls about five miles away,
high up on a mountain, feeding just below the snow
line. From our vantage point the heads looked in-
teresting, so we decided to try for them. ‘Two
good-size mountains lay between us and the game,
which had to be crossed over before we could begin
our stalk, so we came down our lookout mountain
and at the bottom found a few dried willows to make
a fire to boil our water for tea. Lunch finished, we
started up our second mountain and on the top lay
down to rest and look at the game. As we were
looking at them, they suddenly started as if they had
been frightened, and traveling at rapid pace the
whole band rushed around the brow of the mountain
and came down the slope to drink, after which they
began to browse on some near-by willows.

We hurried down the mountain, climbed up a
canyon; and ascended until we were somewhat above
them, but we could not see by reason of the willows.
Again we descended for a stalk on their level with
the wind in our favor, and stalked as close as one
hundred and fifty yards. The heads we decided
were not quite big enough so we decided not to shoot
at them, but crept through the willows within a hun-
dred yards. It was not particularly disappointing
not to shoot these animals, though we had worked
hard for a head this day, but it was satisfying merely
to sit and watch these noble wild things with their
grayish black coats and white collars and manes and

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON _ 63

wonderfully graceful horns, as they quietly browsed
on willows, with their own snowy peaks keeping si-
lent watch above.

We continued to watch the animals longer than
the waning light and our distance from camp really
allowed, and then we decided to do some experi-
menting by shooting to the right and the left to see
if they would easily frighten. In all we shot six
times, each shot would cause the animals to look up
a moment and then continue their feeding; they
could not see us and the wind was in our favor, but
it was evident mere noise such as the roar of a
Mauser did not greatly stimulate their interest.
When we stood forth, however, from our cover, the
band looked at us for a moment then dashed full
speed up the mountain, and we regretfully started
for camp.

Coming down the mountain, Hoyt and the writer
compared notes on the day’s work and we discov-
ered ourselves to be decidedly cheerful for hunters
who have climbed hard all day and are coming back
to camp without taking a shot at any game.

The novice will not understand the real joy which
the sportsman experiences in merely watching and
studying wild life in its wild and beautiful environ-
ment, but the true sportsman loves the beautiful wild
life and really takes no delight in mere killing, for
the true sportsman kills but little game and then only
for food or to secure a particularly fine trophy; even

64 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

then he kills with a feeling of regret. To-night
about the camp fire we both feel particularly happy
to have studied these noble animals at close range,
for we love these graceful and harmless creatures of
the wild and it is good to think that they are resting
up near the snow line instead of stretched out cold
and stiff on the tundra.

On reaching the canyon we had to cross the
Wolverine, which had been a dry crossing on rocks
in the morning, but now the glacial melting had
raised the stream to a considerable depth, so we
plunged into the ice water above the knees and made
our way in the gloom to our camp, having traveled
over thirty miles, chmbed over ten thousand feet,
soaked to the hide with icy glacial water, very tired,
ravenously hungry, an empty game bag — but still
content.

August 20. A heavy downpour greeted us this
morning as we responded to the early “* muck-a-
muck” call, and the rain has continued all day.
Wolverine Creek is on a rampage; the heavy
bowlders rolling in the stream make a noise even
above the roar of the tawny waters. Hunting is
out of the question, as we cannot cross the creek,
so we are all sticking close to the tent, trying to keep
dry and comparing notes on hunting methods.
Dixon says Bettle and Wolcott tried to teach him a
new method of wading glacial streams; that he has
tried their way, which consists of removing boots

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON _ 65

and sox and crossing in bare feet, but that he would
rather have wet boots than have his feet torn and
cut on sharp bowlders in the bottom of the stream.
The writer claims that there is much reason why a
man who carries a five-pound camera when moun-
tain climbing should be entitled to six pounds of
caribou meat for supper; the others are a bit doubt-
ful of the correctness of the conclusion, but we
demonstrated that by carrying the camera up ten
thousand feet yesterday we performed the equiva-
lent of lifting a ton twenty-five feet, and it is agreed
that hereafter the writer may have a whole caribou
for his evening meal.

In the afternoon Wright went out to look for the
horses and found two have entirely “ jumped the.
range’ and are probably twenty-five miles back on
the Donjeck bottom, feeding on pea vine. Ac-
cordingly Wright has taken a three days’ grub
supply and started on the back trail for a horse
hunt.

We have held a council and decided to move
camp to-morrow to a point farther into the range.
We will split the hunting party, Cutting going one
way with Hayden, Bettle and Wolcott with Dixon
taking a different course, Hoyt and the writer with
Baker following a middle course, while Fisher with
Bones and the Indian will bring along the pack train.
We are all to meet at night at a camping place which
only Dixon knows, but which is described as being

66 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

“above timber on Bull Creek at the first horse
feed.”

August 21. After Wolcott and Bettle had
started with Dixon on foot, Cutting, Hoyt, and the
writer, with Hayden and Baker on horses, went up
the canyon about ten miles where we tried to ford
the Wolverine, still at flood, with rolling bowlders
making dangerous crossing. After several at-
tempts we made a successful ford and stopped at
the last willow patch-to make tea at noon. Cutting
and Hayden branched off to the mountains on our
right while we continued up the canyon, which be-
came narrower and more rocky as we advanced, with
frequent pieces of glacial ice five feet thick and about
twenty yards long grounded in the gorge. Ahead
of us a number of miles we located a single ram on
the very top of a high peak that rises above the pass
we intended crossing. With the glasses we made
him out to be a very large ram, but his back was
towards us and, while his horns were immense at the
base, we could not look over the points to determine
their condition, but made up our minds to attempt
a stalk from the pass.

Arrived at the summit, we left the horses teth-
ered to the tundra and began our stalk, which did
not seem promising, as the ram was evidently a
lonely old sage and had selected his vantage point
so he could see us every way we might attempt the
ascent, unless we tried to get at him from the rear,

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 67

and as the wind was blowing directly from us toward
him it looked like a futile effort; but we chose the
stalk from the rear and began a very difficult and
steep climb. Very gingerly we crept along among
the loose rock, avoiding the slightest sound and, top-
ping pinnacle, stood up to look for the ram. There
stood the ancient sheep twenty feet away, apparently
paralyzed with surprise; I nodded to my companion
to shoot, if he so desired, and one shot from Hoyt’s
Mauser finished this particular. hunt.

Both horns were broken off in front at a point
where the horn is six inches in circumference, and
the broken ends were “broomed” and frayed,
showing considerable use since the horns were
broken; but in spite of the imperfections, or rather
by reason of them, this is one of the most interest-
ing heads I have ever seen. The horns around the
base measured sixteen inches, the annular rings on
the horn which remains show ten years of age, and
the part broken off would show at least two more
annular rings; while very highly crystallized, the
texture was further indicative of extreme age. The
face was quite as interesting to the student of sheep,
as the scalp was scarred from a point just below the
horn all the way down the face and almost to the tip
of the nose; only about half of his face was covered
with hair, the rest being hairless and irregular scars

where the scalp had been torn in the long past and
had then healed. |

68 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

Looking at this aged ram with his broken horns
and battered, battle-marked face, it took but little
imagining to picture him battling with his rivals
among the crags that rip the sky, gamely taking
heavy punishment and giving back even heavier
blows, slowly but surely forcing his adversary over
the precipice, tumbling to a quick death on the rocks
below. Undoubtedly the battered face and the
broken horns were the honor marks of battle royal,
though the broken horns doubtless antedated the
scars on the face, which were probably due to the
fact that the loss of part of the horns prevented
the old warrior from protecting his face.

These rams are by no means as peaceful as they
might appear, for at certain seasons of the year they
engage in battle just as the moose and the caribou,
and when two fight the others stand aside and im-
partially judge the contest. They do not slash and
paw, but stand off ten or twelve feet, facing each
other, then with lowered heads dash directly at each
other, coming together with a crack that sounds like
a shot from a large caliber rifle. Then they try to
push each other off the mountain, and, not succeed-
ing, they both back away and dash headlong at each
other, until one is either dead or decides discretion
to be the better part of valor, and leaves the range.

The writer has talked with well-informed people
who have the idea that broomed and broken sheep-
and goat-horns are due to the fact, as they have

1. CLIMBING THE HEIGHTS FOR THE ANCIENT RAM.
2. CARIBOU COUNTRY HIGH UP NEAR THE GLACIER.

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON _— 69

heard, that sheep and goats leap or jump great dis-
tances and land, not on their feet, but on their horns.
Permit the writer to say to any such reader that no
more untrue or ridiculous story than this concerning
the habits of game has been told, since the ancient
days when the German chieftains told the credulous
Cesar of hunting the unicorn by hiding behind a
tree and inducing the horned beast to rush at the
tree that protected them and, driving his horn deep
into the trunk, thus render himself helpless.

After studying this patriarch of the sheep family
for some time, we rolled him down the mountain
and dressed him, taking the meat and packing it on
our horses. From the summit of the pass we saw
the beginning of a creek which we decided must be
Bull Creek, as it was the only one visible in the maze
of mountains. Accordingly our course lay along
the stream, and three miles down a willow patch
with some small grass growing on a bench seemed
to answer Dixon’s vague description of our camping
ground. We had hardly unsaddled our animals,
when Albert the Indian appeared and told us he had
left the pack train several hours before to tell us
the animals were having a hard time on the moun-
tains and probably would not get across that night.

Our tents and sleeping robes, with frying pan and
grub, were back with the pack train somewhere on
the mountains, but our inventory of immediate as-
sets disclosed a small tea pail, some tea, and our

70 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

supply of fresh sheep meat; so we collected dried
willows, made our fire, and roasted sheep meat on
sticks. Albert began to tell us the troubles of the
pack train to which he had been attached earlier in
the day. It seems a fording was tried at several
places, but the Wolverine was too high; finally a
swift but reasonably safe ford was found and the
horses all driven across except old Snorty, who per-
versely insisted on crossing about ten feet higher up.
What happened is best told in Albert’s laconic de-
scription: ‘“* One time I see him, then no see him,
two time I see him, then no more see him, old
Snorty.”” We examined Albert at some length be-
fore the real story came out; when Snorty, with one
hundred pounds of flour in each pannier for side
packs and a large top pack, went into the creek, he
was struck by the torrent which rolled him under,
and he came up forty feet down-stream, minus one
hundred pounds of flour and the top pack, with the
second one hundred pounds of flour still fastened
to him; almost immediately he went under again and
finally came up, barren of any pack, and climbed the
bank none the worse for his experience. Albert
found one pack of one hundred pounds of flour some
distance down-stream and salvaged it, but the rest
of the stuff could not be found.

We sat around in the firelight and speculated not
a little as to the contents of that top pack, whether
it contained ammunition, camera, films, or sleeping

‘CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON’ 71

robe. About ten o’clock the sound of the bells on
the pack train came to us, and shortly Bones and
Fisher with the animals came to our modest willow
fire. Bones relieved our anxiety by telling us the
lost top pack contained Jack Hayden’s sleeping robe.

At 11.30 P.M. Bettle, Wolcott, and Dixon stum-
bled out of the darkness to our fire, very hungry and
looking somewhat “ gone.” Leaving our Wolver-
ine camp they had gone up the canyon, taking the
left branch to the glacier, fording the creek a num-
ber of times, and becoming very wet and chilled in
the process. They dried out at noon and Wolcott
located a caribou bull with nice head, which he killed
at two hundred and fifty yards. When the head
had been skinned out, the three went up Martindale
Glacier and stalked a band of fourteen rams, one of
which Bettle shot and supposed he had killed as the
same lay quiet. However, the ram was only
creased across the neck by the bullet and soon re-
vived. Wolcott called to Bettle that the ram was
getting on his feet, and Bettle acted promptly, even
if strangely, for he seemed to forget he had a rifle
to use on game and only to remember that at a not
distant date he had played on the Harvard Varsity
in a Yale game. Like a flash he made a flying
tackle at the ram, took the animal off his feet, and
with arms around him in a never-say-die grip both
hunter and hunted rolled into a creek, where the ram
pawed and fought while the hunter held on, and

42 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

- gradually forced the ram’s nose under water until
he was drowned. Dixon and Wolcott looked on
with amazed interest at the contest, uncertain
whether to place their bets on the man or beast, as
the chances seemed about even. ‘They agree, how-
ever, that the best man won, and volunteer to referee
any future fight between any member of the party
and a moose, caribou, or grizzly.

Cutting and Hayden have not come in, so we
conclude they have “ missed the party” and are “ si-
washing it’? out on the mountains without supper or
blankets.

August 22. Cutting and Hayden came into camp
about 7 A.M., somewhat hungry as they had no grub
for supper. After leaving us down in the Wolver-
ine Canyon they had climbed the mountains and
gone after a herd of twenty caribou, but the game
was on the move and the hunters failed to get any-
where near. Late in the afternoon they began to
look about for the rendezvous and traveled a long
distance over mountains covered with marshy tundra
before reaching Bull Creek. As darkness was com-
ing on and the footing was difficult in the creek bot-
tom, they stopped for the night at the last timber
about two miles below us and using the horse
blankets for bedding rolled up for the night under
the trees.

Wolcott and Cutting confessed to an “all in”
feeling and remained in camp to-day. Bettle went

6c

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 73

with Dixon to look for sheep up near the glacier
where Bettle fought the ram and drowned him.
They have climbed hard all day and located many
ewes and lambs, but not:a single ram. At this time
of year it is very rare to find any rams with a band
of ewe sheep; occasionally an old solitary ram is
found in splendid isolation with no companions, but
almost invariably the rams are found in small bands
of five to fifteen in number, and in such bands the
members will usually be found to be the same age.
Almost never are young rams three or four years
old found in company with seven- or eight-year-old
rams, but each keeps in its own set.

While scanning the snowy sky line two miles op-
posite our camp in hope of locating some rams, we
descried a bull caribou lying down on the slope
within a hundred feet of the very top of the moun-
tain, and a half mile to the left, standing in the snow
on a knife-blade pinnacle, were two caribou. It is
dificult to tell why these Osborni caribou are so
often found on the very pinnacles of the peaks, as
it is quite cool enough lower down on the tundra
mountains and certainly they do not go to such ex-
treme heights to escape the flies and winged pests,
because the flies and mosquitoes have been gone for
some days. The guides do not know why the cari-
bou are frequently seen on the high peaks, but they
report that it is not at all uncommon.

Hoyt and the writer with Baker started out to

74 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

climb the mountain where the caribou was resting
and to look for sheep among the peaks beyond.
During the climb, the caribou got our wind and fled
across the range; an eagle perched on a rock three
hundred feet above us looked down with a superior
stare but without fear, as he continued a spectator
_ of our slow climbing until we reached the jagged
pinnacles of rock and started down the other side.
We met a small bull caribou, which circled around
us within seventy-five yards, apparently actuated by
a friendly interest; for some time he kept up his
circling tactics, trying evidently to get our wind, but
the breeze was from him to us, and, as we did not
look dangerous to him, the graceful creature con-
tinued to follow us around. After the caribou had
been trailing us around for half an hour, Baker said:
“Looks to me like that varmit thinks I might be
his grandmother and is going to hang around until
he is certain.” We told Baker, “ If you are a dead
ringer for that caribou’s grandmother, then the old
lady certainly could not enter in a beauty contest.”
Half way down the slope the caribou had circled
behind us, where he got our wind; throwing his head
up in the air with nostrils quivering he stood for a
moment, then like a shot dashed away down the
mountain.

Having gotten rid of the distracting caribou, we
turned our attention to the sheep hunting, and lo-

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 75

cated forty ewes and lambs high up on another
mountain, which we climbed in order to see the other
side, which turned out to be dotted with ewes and
lambs and nothing else. After looking over all the
peaks within stalking distance and seeing not a single
ram, we decided to descend through the timber and
look for moose until we should reach the St. Clair
River, where we would look out for bear. In going
through the timber we saw a cow moose, which we
did not molest, but continued on and finally climbed
a butte at the edge of the St. Clair bottoms. While
eating lunch we searched the gravel bottom for bear,
but our only reward was to pick up a large porcupine
through the glasses.

Late in the afternoon we started back to camp,
traveling along the St. Clair bottoms and then cut-
ting across the soggy tundra to Bull Creek. The
daylight does not linger nearly as long as when we
began our trip and darkness found us still several
miles from camp, with sore feet from stumbling
about on the difficult footing of the bowlder-strewn
creek, but we felt our way slowly and finally dragged
ourselves to the camp fire after doing twenty-five
miles since breakfast. George Wright has come in
from his horse hunt, having located the two strays
back on the Donjeck River. On the way up
Wolverine Creek, Wright found Jack Hayden’s
bedding and the other pannier with one hundred

76 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

pounds of flour, that had been shaken off old Snorty
when he was rolling around on the bottom of the
creek; Hayden is happy to have his bedding, and the
one hundred pounds of flour looks very good to us
in spite of its water journey.

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“AHIOVTIS MAHAD LNNOD AAOUV SHTOVNNId GHEWITS AM

CHAPTER VI

“ But the stars throng out in their glory,
And they sing of the God in man;
They sing of the Mighty Master,
Of the loom his fingers span,
Where a star or a soul is a part of the whole
And weft in the wondrous plan.”

August 23. Clear, cold weather. Hoyt and the
writer plan to take Baker as guide and George
Wright to look after the horses and to make a five
days’ trip up the Klutlan Glacier, going by horse-
back down Bull Creek, across the St. Clair, then over
the mountains to Count Creek, thence down Count
Creek to the Generc River, and up the Generc to its
source in Klutlan Glacier.

In addition to our saddle horses we took one
pack animal loaded with our bedding, tea pail, fry-
ing pan, and axe, besides a simple grub supply of
tea, sugar, raisins, flour, and grease for baking and
cooking, and started down Bull Creek to the St.
Clair, where we stopped for lunch. Baker had
never crossed the mountains between St. Clair and
Count Creek, but Jack Hayden told us not to at-
tempt the low pass as it was a tundra morass so soft
that we could never get the horses across. Hay-

77

78 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

den impressed upon us that the only way to get
across was to choose the high ridge to the right of
the pass and take the horses right up to the rock
pinnacles. We looked over the monstrous course
Hayden had impressed upon us, and while it seemed
absolutely impossible for horses we decided to fol-
low Hayden’s directions, which we were more will-
ing to do after a band of six rams was located on
one of the pinnacles. Going through the timber we
saw a cow moose which we did not disturb, but con-
tinued up the high ridge where the going was slow.

Reaching the top of the ridge we came to the
real base of the range, from which the peaks shot
up thousands of feet into the clouds. It seemed a
foolhardy undertaking to attempt to scale those
towering heights with horses, but we would lead the
horses up a hundred feet at a time and give them
a rest and then proceed upward. When we reached
the top of a peak we would look ahead and find an-
other higher peak, to reach which we had to descend
somewhat and then climb the peak in our front.
We finally got our animals to the top and then dis-
covered it was impossible to take them further, so
Baker and Wright took the horses down the moun-
tains, while Hoyt and the writer agreed to hunt
sheep and to meet the outfit down on the other side
near Count Creek.

After climbing around on the rock pinnacles with
knife-blade edges, where one slope was dangerously

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 79

steep while the other side was a perpendicular drop
thousands of feet into a blind canyon, we discovered
the rams on a parallel mountain two thousand feet
away, resting in absolute security on a rocky pin-
nacle which we could not reach within a day’s climb
from our location and which we could not approach
from any side without being in plain view of the
game. We decided to forget these rams and to
continue our course across the searing rock ridges,
in hope of running across other sheep before we
came to the other side of the range. The wind
blew hard and the temperature was low on the pin-
nacles and our efforts were barren of results as we
saw no other game, and came at last to the other
side of the range, but before descending sat down
on a rocky point to take a look at the landscape.
Below us the glasses disclosed our horses shrunk
to ant proportions, dwindling down the slope to
Count Creek, across which reared a mighty rock
barrier crowned with snow; beyond this twenty miles
the icy shoulders and crest of Mt. Natazhat loomed
bluish white in the afternoon sun at a height of
seventeen thousand feet. To the left the icy wall
of Mt. Constantine ripped the sky above a sea of
lesser peaks, while to the south Mt. Wood and Mt.
Steele lorded it over the other giants that have
banded together to form the St. Elias range. The
utter immobility and finality of the panorama, the
oppressive silence that weighs heavily upon the hu-

80 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

man mite that finds himself amidst such a setting,
begets a feeling of the infinite magnitude and might
of Great Nature and a corresponding sense of help-
lessness and infinite smallness of the beholder; for,
gazing at the towering seas of snow-clad crests
tossed to heaven, one feels the sense of the Maker
of such a stupendous picture, painted with majesty,
strung to silence, lit by the glory of perfect sun-
shine, with the peace of God mantling the scene as
a benedicite.

A long time we lingered upon the heights, loath
to depart and descend to our little tasks and small
pleasures. On the bench above Count Creek we
overtook the horses and camped at the first willow
patch for the night. After hobbling the animals
and collecting willows for a fire, our attention was
attracted to a yearling caribou that possessed an
immense amount of curiosity and persisted in cir-
cling about our camp at close range, until we remem-
bered that we needed meat and, since a good supply
was bent on coming right up to the frying pan, we
did not refuse the opportunity to replenish our
larder. | |

After supper we disdained tent and were content
to roll up in our warm sleeping robes and watch the
stars just above the shadowy peaks, until the Aurora,
flaming across the northern sky, held all our interest.
It is light enough to permit a belated writing of the
diary, and against the pulsating white brightness Mt.

‘NHAVAH OL GHSSOL SLSHYD MONS AO SVHUS DNISHMOL

Fi
ya =
a

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 81

Natazhat sharply silhouetted keeps watch and ward
over the silent wastes. |

August 24. Very cold and clear. It was ar-
ranged that Wright should take the horses and move
down Count Creek to make camp at the first timber,
while we hunt on foot through the mountains up to-
ward the glacier. Climbing among the mountains
two miles from camp we located over two hundred
sheep, all of them ewes and lambs variously en-
gaged; some of them strung out along the slopes
feeding, others huddled together resting. Beyond
the sheep were several herds of caribou numbering
fifty in all, but with no large heads, so we did not
disturb any of the game and simply continued our
gentle exercise of climbing up and down the moun-
tains until noontide found us low down on the bench
just above the canyon at the foot of the glacier.
Here we found a band of twenty ewes and lambs
feeding on the grass at the foot of the mountain;
they did not have our wind and watched us until we
came within seventy-five feet, when they made off
at an unfrightened pace, frequently stopping to look
at us. About three hundred yards ahead was a band
of six rams with good heads, feeding at our level;
the fleeing ewes, however, alarmed the rams and
_ caused them to move closer to the base of the moun-
tains, and as there was no cover for a stalk we went
down into the canyon in hope of working around
the rams.

82 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

Hardly arrived in the canyon, a large caribou bull
was seen a mile ahead, traveling up the moraine to-
ward the glacier, and Hoyt with Baker went after
the caribou, while the writer sat down to observe
the sheep. For half an hour the sheep continued to
feed at the foot of the mountain; frequently the ewe
sheep would come close to where the rams were
feeding, and as often as this happened the male
sheep with lowered heads would ungallantly drive the
ewes away. Finally the rams started for the moun-
tains, traveling up a draw between two rocky ridges.
The ewes and lambs followed almost at once, and
the rams turned around and threatened the per-
sistent female sheep, which continued to parallel the
upward course of the rams at twenty paces to their
right, until half way to the summit the rams de-
liberately charged the ewes, driving and herding
them to the crags on the right of the draw, after
which the lordly males came down and crossing the
draw climbed to the pinnacles on the left, where they
lay down on the ridge.

Baker came back to tell the writer that Hoyt had
stalked the caribou up on the moraine as close as
thirty yards and with six shots had succeeded in kill-
ing. After reaching Hoyt, we started to climb the
mountains back of the peak where the rams were
resting, and toiled upward for two hours on a steep
slope of jagged rocks until we reached the pinnacles,
only to observe that the rams had moved to another

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 83

peak which was absolutely isolated from the ridge
and which we could not climb in the few hours of
daylight remaining. Baker and the writer climbed
across the face of the rock slope to firmer footing
and then went carefully down the ridge, but Hoyt
started down the rock slide, coasting along on the
moving stream of rocks, and reached the bottom
almost before Baker and the writer had started our
slower but safer mode of descent.

On the way down, with the glasses we picked up a
large bull caribou on the bench across the creek three
miles distant, and the writer decided to try to reach
the animal before darkness set in. Count Creek was
too high for fording without going up-stream, so
we went up to the glacier where the creek rushes
out from its tunneled course through the ice, but the
water was too deep and the crevasses prevented
crossing on the ice. We finally succeeded in fording
lower down and in the dusk climbed the canyon walls
to the bench above, only to find the caribou had left
his tundra couch and was rambling away from us
three miles ahead. There was nothing left but to
come back to the creek and take a second ice water
plunge at the ford and start down the canyon for
camp.

Three miles down the gorge we met this same
caribou coming up, so we sat down on the rocks to
wait for him and he came as close as seventy-five
yards, impelled by curiosity. His guard horns were

84 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

very large, but the brow points, instead of being
palmated, consisted of two very unsightly straight
prongs, which saved his life, as the writer did not
care for the head. ‘The old fellow stood facing us
for five minutes, trying with quivering nostrils to
get our wind; as we went forward he went off on
our right and disappeared, but returned again for
a look at us at close range, which procedure he
repeated a number of times until we lost him in the
darkness. For ten miles we stumbled along through
the canyon on the difficult bowlder-strewn course,
until we decided we must be near the timber to which
Wright had promised to move camp. We shouted
singly and as a trio, but received no answering call,
so continued our painful course along the gorge for
several miles where we indulged in further pro-
longed and useless shouting. There was nothing
left except to climb out of the gorge and make for
the place we had left Wright in the morning, so we
made our way in the dark up four hundred feet to
the tundra-covered bench and then stumbled along
two miles to our willow patch camp, only to find
that Wright had left. Somewhere down at timber
along the creek we knew Wright must be waiting
with a good fire and a supply of grub which we
needed badly, as our feet were cold and sore, our
bodies cold, wet, and weary and our hunger was the
mountain-climbing variety that is only satisfied by
numerous pounds of meat. Across the tundra we

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 85

hurried, tripping over low willows, splashing
through watery morass, falling into small gulches,
but with no sign of a welcoming camp fire. One
shot from the rifle brought an answering shot from
afar, which heartened us to continue our discourag-
ing course; half an hour, on trying another shot, we
found the answering crack to be just below us, and
forging onward came to the edge of the canyon and
slid down the side to a roaring camp fire, a pile of
caribou steaks, and a comfortable couch of spruce
boughs. 7

This little circle of light looked better to us than
any palace we had ever seen; we arrived at 11.30
P.M., absolutely faded and unable to take another
mile; at 12.30 we were still eating caribou steaks and
drying out our wet garments close to the blazing logs
and feeling almost ready to start out again. In-
stead, we sat around and smoked our pipes in quiet
contentment and watched Wright baking bread in a
fry pan, which turned out a pastry product about an
inch thick and nicely browned, but of the consistency
of leather. Baker looked at it, felt of it, and
chewed a piece for a moment and then remarked to
Wright: ‘“‘ You call yourself a baker, but you evi-
dently worked a few days in a leather shop and you
are nothing but a darned tanner.” Wright, how-
ever, claims to be “‘ only a horse wrangler ” and will
give Baker a “chance to do some real baking to-
morrow night.”

86 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

August 25. Six o’clock this morning found us
feeling very fresh, and on our horses headed down
Count Creek, where we journeyed along the can-
yon six miles until we reached the Generc River
which rises at Klutlan Glacier. For ten miles we
traveled along the side of the glacier, looking for
bears and seeing many tracks and recent diggings,
but not locating any animals. ‘This glacier is ten
miles across and runs back into the range many
miles; icy masses are continually breaking off its
sides, crashing and cracking in their fall. It is won-
derfully impressive to behold this world-shaping
force at work. Across the ten-mile front of the ice
mass is a push moraine of miniature mountains,
which the glacier is slowly but irresistibly pushing
ahead of it; on each side are moraines which the
glacier has flung on either flank, while looking up
the ice mass for twenty miles we see the valley cut
through by the stupendous power and pressure of
this glacial mass, impelled by the pressure of mile
upon mile of ice fields inevitably descending from the
higher fields, cutting through mountains and carry-
ing every obstacle before it. We are back in Na-
ture’s workshop, back to an early geological age, and
are permitted to be awed spectators of this world-
shaping process, slowly but surely cutting out a val-
ley and piling up mountainous moraines. In the
course of time the glacial movement will cease, the
ice mass will melt and run to the sea, but the moun-

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 87

tains it has pushed up will bear witness and the val-
ley will testify to the mighty forces we have seen in
action.

At the last willow patch we made our camp, which
consisted in gathering some willows for fire and hob-
bling our unsaddled horses, as we sleep out to-night
with the sky for shelter. After a light lunch, com-
posed of tea, cold meat, and Wright’s everlasting
bread, we went up the mountain five miles, over-
looking the glacier, and came to a bowl or pocket
in the mountains, running back two miles, with a
small glacier descending from the snow-capped rim
of the bowl. A herd of twenty caribou with a num-
ber of bulls were feeding on the lowest level, so we
looked them over with the glasses and, finding no
large heads, continued our hunt for sheep. Hard
climbing the rest of the afternoon failed to reveal a
single sheep, so we started back to the willow patch.

Looking up the glacier, we could see a snow-
storm whirling and swirling among the peaks, while
the wind blew a chilly blast upon us from the icy
fields of the Klutlan, two hundred yards to our
right. At the willow patch we erected a canvas
windbreak with our tarpaulin, to keep off the blast
that drove into us across the ice fields, and then went
at the pleasant task of frying caribou meat, while
Baker undertook to make some real bread. Baker
really worked hard to produce edible pastry, but the
result was exactly as bad as Wright’s product of the

88 CAMP. FIRES IN THE YUKON

night before. When it was finished Wright picked
up the inch-thick loaf, looked at it curiously, tasted
it, and then inquired of Baker: “ Pretty good tan
you’ve got on it, but what do you use it for? A
saddle pad?”’ When we came to eat it we found
a little lasted a long time, and voted that our guide
had not been fittingly named, and hereafter he
should forget his deluded parents had named him
Jim Baker and should respond to the more fitting
name of Jim “ Tanner.”

August 26. Bitter cold last night, but we were
entirely comfortable, sleeping out in our eiderdown
robes with no tent and with the glacier but two hun-
dred yards from our willow patch. This morning
we found everything frozen up tight, which looks
like an early winter in this country, as the range is
covered with new snow fallen upon the peaks. We
decided to go farther up the glacier and hunt the
mountains for sheep, which do not seem to be on this
side of the range, though we have already looked
over many miles of the range without seeing a single
sheep. About ten miles farther up the glacier we
saw a small band of rams and in order to get a
better look at them, as well as to look over the peaks
beyond, we climbed through a canyon up to the rock
slope and continued up until we were above the rams,
which were only four years old with heads that were
too small. We did not molest these snow-white
sheep, but climbed higher until we could look over

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 89

all the mountains we could hope to reach in a day’s
climb. For an hour we searched the range through
our glasses without being able to pick up a single
sheep. We then decided to go back to our camp on
Bull Creek, and accordingly made our way down
the mountain to our willow patch, saddled the
horses, and started down the moraine beside the
’ glacier. |

At 5.30 we turned for a last look at the ten-mile-
wide mass of Klutlan Glacier, extending back into
the heart of the range, and then made our way
across the low tundra toward Count Creek, which
we were unable to reach—so we camped on the
tundra for the night.

August 27. Making an early start, a couple of
hours’ travel brought us to the bottom of Count
Creek Canyon, which we crossed over, and led our
horses up the other side and began our climb across
the tundra-covered mountains toward the St. Clair.
On the way over the mountains we saw over one
hundred caribou in different bands, but none of the
bulls had interesting heads. Before descending the
mountain we located three moose feeding in a pond
four miles away down in the timber, our glasses dis-
closed the moose to be cows, so we were not diverted
from our objective point on Bull Creek.

About noon we reached the bottoms of St. Clair
River and headed up Bull Creek, over whose rocky
course we were picking our slow way, when within

90 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

a quarter of a mile of camp we met the pack train,
loaded and coming down the creek, as they were
changing camp to a place on the St. Clair. We had
not dined since 5 A.M., and we did what ravenously
hungry out-of-door men would do under like circum-
stances; that is to say, we held up the animals with
the kitchen outfit and grub that had been prepared
for supper. Bruce Fisher the cook was very good
about the “‘ hold up”’; instead of objecting, he will-
ingly unloaded pots and kettles and dishes, built a
fire in the rocks, boiled tea, fried steaks, and brought
out an untouched pan of macaroni and cheese which
he had baked for the evening meal. When we had
cleaned up all the grub in sight, Bruce commenced
to grin and said: “ What’s the matter with you
fellows? You act like grub has been scarce in
your country.” We told Bruce that, “We had
plenty of makings, but no cook, but instead we had a
fine horse wrangler and a tanner.”

Quite contented, we helped Fisher wash up the
dishes and pack the kitchen animals, after which we
all traveled down the creek to the St. Clair, and
went up-stream five miles and camped in the timber
with the snow peaks at our back. Beside our camp
ran a beautiful clear creek of ice water, in which
Wolcott and the writer performed the ancient and
almost forgotten ceremony of taking a bath which
stands as a record for speed. During the evening
we sat around the fire and listened to the account of

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON _ 91

the hunting during our absence. Bettle, Wolcott,
and Cutting had been out among the crags daily and
even a part of the night and had very fair shooting.

On the day we left Bull Creek for our journey
to Klutlan Glacier, Wolcott with Hayden and Cut-
ting, and Bettle with Dixon and Albert, started up
to the head-waters of the St. Clair River. While
going over the mountain opposite our camp they
saw a small bunch of rams and a bull caribou on the
sky line. Cutting tried for the caribou, which he
stalked within two hundred yards, and missed; the
bull became frightened and ran in the direction of
the rams, which stampeded with the caribou, and
dashed across the range. Continuing their course
up the St. Clair, they took the left branch at the
forks, and camped high up the valley beyond the
last timber.

Wolcott located a bunch of rams on a snow peak
back of camp and began a hard climb; the rams
moved away, however, before the hunter had pro-
gressed far. Another ram with a fine head was
located off on the ridge a considerable distance and
Wolcott went after him. A hard climb brought
him to the level of the ram and Wolcott began a
difficult stalk for a shot; almost within shooting dis-
tance the wind suddenly changed, and the wary ani-
mal threw up his head as he got the scent of the
hunter and in a flash had dashed away over the
mountain. Bettle, in the meantime, had located a

92 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

bull caribou, roaming about feeding on white moss
across the valley and high up on the mountains.
The cover for stalking was very poor, but by climb-
ing hard the hunter came within two hundred yards
of the bull and killed him with two shots, after
which the head was skinned out. Bettle’s caribou
is really very beautiful with long guard horns and
good beam, besides excellent and symmetrical brow
points. ‘The head is not wonderfully large, but it
is fair size and quite the best specimen we have seen
thus far.

On the second day out Wolcott located a bull
caribou with good head, up on the glacier at the
head of the river. A long stalk from the place
where they left the horses brought him within shoot-
ing range. Wolcott wounded the animal, which
made off at a slow pace. After following for sev-
eral miles he came up with the game, and killed,
after which Jack Hayden skinned out the head.
Cutting and Bettle with Albert and Dixon made a
difficult climb to the peaks that rise above the glacier
on the left of the St. Clair, and came to a paradise
for rams. On looking over several bands they
found that there were a number in each band that
had imperfect heads, in that one of the horns were
broken off or broomed at the points from fighting,
but they selected a band that had two very large and
perfect heads and began to stalk them.

Hard and slow climbing brought them within a

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON _ 93

hundred yards of the rams, two which were seen to
possess immense heads. Dixon, looking at them
through the glasses, told the hunters those two
heads were ‘‘ perfect from the base to the tip and
were close to the record for size.’’ Both hunters
became nervous and missed the easy shots, while the
rams galloped over the range.

Late in the afternoon they located a band of
thirty-two rams across the range and high up above
a glacier, and they began a hard climb to reach them
before dark. Dixon with his dog started to make
a wide circuit, in order to head off the rams in case
they should attempt to bolt to the right; on his way
around the mountain he came upon six rams, which
the dog brought to bay on a five foot ledge which
the rams completely occupied. Every time the dog
would try to climb the ledge the rams, massed tightly
together with lowered heads, presented a solid front
of sharp horns to hurl the dog backwards, and when
the dog would attempt a flanking movement the rams

-would quickly shift their front, always meeting the
attack with a perfect alignment of massed horns.
So formidable a defense is even effective against the
wolves that prey upon the sheep in the winter time,
when the sheep are found low down on the benches
and on the tundra. Once among the rocks a sheep
can usually outrun a wolf, but it sometimes happens
that a band of rams is brought to bay on a ledge,
and when these sharp horned monarchs of the crags

94 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

present a solid front to a wolf as they stand upon a
ledge the wolf does not press the attack, but slinks
away.

About seven o’clock Dixon had circled the moun-
tain and had skillfully driven the thirty-two rams
above the glacier into a pocket, from which the sheep
could not possibly escape as the walls were perpen-
dicular. Cutting and Bettle had been doing some
strenuous climbing in the meantime, to reach the
pocket where Dixon had the rams so secure that the
hunters could shoot them at a range of twenty feet.
Darkness was rapidly shrouding the peaks, when
Cutting and Bettle climbed to the glacier within one
hundred and fifty yards of the thirty-two rams bot-
tled up by the guide in the pocket.

Dixon tried to get the hunters to travel just an-
other hundred yards and pick out the best head, but
the hunters confessed to having reached the limit of
their power to travel onward and upward and at
one hundred and fifty yards in the dusk began to
shoot at the huddled mass of rams, killing four of
them before they desisted. It was really a pity they
did not in some way manage to get closer, as their
indiscriminate shooting brought them two small but
perfect heads, while the other heads they had killed
were broken off at the points. However, they were
at such a point of exhaustion that they left their
guns and camera up on the glacier rather than carry
them back to camp, whither they stumbled in the

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON _ 95

cold and dark across the mountains and arrived at
two A.M. the following day.

Wolcott went out the following day for sheep,
and climbed all the morning without seeing anything
except multitudes of ewes and lambs dotting the
mountains. In the afternoon, however, he located
a bunch of rams on a pinnacle and succeeded in
climbing above them; selecting the largest he shot
him through the body, but the ram got on his feet
and made off across the range, Wolcott and Hayden
following his bloody trail over the crags. About
dark they found him, dead, and taking the head be-
gan to feel their way across the mountains, using the
stock of their guns to pick each step as they came
down from the summit over the bowlder-strewn
slopes in the darkness. At three o’clock in the
morning, stiff with cold and worn to a frazzle, these
two stumbled to the willow patch and rolled into
their sleeping robes to rest and to thaw out.

The next day Cutting and Bettle recovered the
guns they had left on the glacier, together with the
Graflex camera, which last had been spoiled by being
left out and was entirely out of commission. While
scanning the country from one of the peaks, looking
for sheep, the hunters located a grizzly bear and cub
feeding on the carcass of Wolcott’s caribou six miles
away on the glacier at the source of the St. Clair.
A number of valleys with mountains lay between
them and the bears, but they started out and de-

96 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

scended into one valley, climbed the mountains, and
finally came out on the ridge overlooking the creek
where the bears were feeding.

Bettle looks a bit embarrassed and as Dixon, the
guide, insists on telling the story of the hunt, we
record the incident as Dixon ‘gave it about the blaz-
ing friendship fire.

‘We had to go down to the creek bottom where
we stalked up for a thousand yards with the wind in
our favor, but in plain sight of the grizzlies.
Nearly on all fours we went up the creek, and every
time the bears faced our way we would drop down
until they began feeding again or faced in an oppo-
site direction. In this way we gained a low ridge
running parallel to the creek where the bears still
continued to feed, and near the crest we ran rapidly
up wind to a knoll one hundred and fifty yards from
the animals; creeping to the ridge we saw the griz-
zlies below us, curled up asleep beside the partially
devoured caribou, and after waiting a moment for
the hunters to recover their breath Bettle opened
fire on the large grizzly.

‘The shot struck her paw and she turned a com-
plete somersault and began to roar; the hundred
pound cub sat straight up behind its mother and Cut-
ting shot at it, but the aim was low and the bullet
hit the big bear in the shoulder. Bettle’s second
shot creased the wounded animal in the back and she
started to run, when Cutting fired again, hitting her

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 97

in the shoulder and laying her low. All the while
the cub sat up bewildered and squalling, and we went
down to the dead grizzly. The cub in the mean-
time came up behind Bettle and made a rush for
him; Bettle gave one backward look, forgot all
about his rifle, and like a shot he was off, tearing
over the rocks, leaping over willows, at a speed that
no bear could hope to equal; the cub tore after the
hunter for a distance, but soon realized it was hope-
lessly outclassed in the speed contest, so sat up and
looked at the vanishing Bettle; Cutting ended the
game by shooting the cub through the chest, when
Bettle gingerly made his way back to the starting
point of the race.”

In view of the very few rams Hoyt and the
writer saw on the mountains of Count Creek and the
Generc, and the presence of numerous bands on the
St. Clair ranges, we decided to spend some time on
the St. Clair, in hope of getting among the rams.

August 25. Hoyt and myself took Baker and the
horses and started at six o'clock up the St. Clair,
and at the forks took the right branch, up which we
traveled for five miles. A survey of the moun-
tains revealed no game, so we retraced our course
to the forks and rode up the left branch, where we
located hundreds of sheep like white dots high up
on the slopes three miles away. Most of them were
ewes, but there were several bands of rams feeding
apart, and we decided to tether our horses in the

98 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

willows and climb for the rams. We had hardly
started across the tundra than we located a herd of
eighteen caribou one thousand yards dead ahead,
with only a few scattered willows and several two-
feet-deep gulches between us for cover. ‘The wind,
however, was in our favor and we began a very dif-
ficult stalk across the open.

By crawling along on all fours we reached the
scanty cover of the willows and made our way up
the shallow gulch, when we again crawled across
to another patch of willows. The caribou were.
two hundred yards away, some feeding and some
lying down; one cow looked directly at Baker, who
dropped on all fours and began to eat grass in a
vain effort to deceive the animal into believing the
guide to be a caribou; but the animal’s sight was too
good, and she gave the alarm and the herd was off
at a rapid pace. The writer ran through the wil-
lows in order to get a clear shot at the largest bull
and broke his leg at the first shot at two hundred
yards’ range; the animal continued to run, and my
second and third shots were complete misses, while
the fourth shot ranged through the shoulder and
slowed him down considerably. At two hundred
and fifty yards the bull stood looking at us for a
moment, and the writer recovered from his poor
shooting and put the bull out with the fifth shot.
When we had skinned out the animal and dressed
the meat and packed it on our horses, we started

SN MOTH DNOTV ANVOD GaHH NOUV ~~
‘OdTaVD INAXOUSO :

é
“Lid
ee

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 99

again for our rams on the mountains, but the moun-
tains were hidden in swirling clouds of snow, entirely
obscuring the sheep and making hunting upon the
slopes a hopeless game of blind man’s buff. We
sat down to make a fire for our tea pail, and as it
began to rain in the valley, we decided to make our
way back to camp.

While riding along the St. Clair bottoms in the
afternoon with the cold rain and hail pelting us in
the back and the snow swirling over the mountains
on either side, we observed a little knoll near the
bank around which six red foxes were playing, dart-
ing in and out of several holes or tunnels. We sat
upon our horses and watched them playing for some
time only seventy-five yards away. As we went for-
ward slowly they sat up like red fluffy dogs and
watched us until we had covered half the distance,
when four of them stampeded and with outstretched
tails almost sailed up the bank and over the ridge.
The other two merely crept to the edge of their
tunnel into the knoll and continued their intent
watchfulness until we were within fifteen feet, when
with incredible swiftness they flashed into their
holes.

August 27. When in camp none of us dream
of getting up until Fisher gives his early breakfast
call of ‘‘ muck-a-muck,” so we simply continue to
sleep until we are called. This morning at four
- Fisher had a mild attack of humor and came to my

100 §=CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

tent and began to shake me until I was quite awake
and inquired, “ What goes on?”

Fisher merely poked his head in the tent and
said, “‘ It is snowing hard on the mountains, so you
fellows can’t see to hunt to-day, and I just thought
to tell you that you don’t have to wake up so early.”
I wonder if Fisher is a bit Irish.

It has snowed very hard on the mountain all day,
but in the river bottoms we have only had rain and
hail. Every one has been busy at various tasks,
shoeing horses, skinning out heads and salting hides,
repairing clothes, and putting new hobnails in boots.
We plan an early retirement after supper and a
very early start in the morning.

CHAPTER VII

“The Winter! the brightness that blinds you,
The white land locked tight as a drum,
The cold fear that follows and finds you,
The silence that bludgeons you dumb.”

August 30. The weather had cleared and this
morning at five o’clock we saddled our horses and
loaded a pack animal with bedding, frying pan, tea
kettle, with a few provisions, and Hoyt and myself,
with Dixon and Albert, started for a three days’
hunt among the crags at the head of the St. Clair.
Arrived at the forks, we took the left branch and
traveled until noon up to the head-waters among the
peaks where Cutting and Bettle saw so many rams.
Dispatching a light lunch and hobbling our horses
on a bench, where there was slough grass, we began
to climb the mountains and while crossing the ridge
observed two rams resting among the crags three
miles away. We started up after them and when
half-way up the rock slope, the two rams began to
descend into the canyon; at the same time we noticed
two other rams resting on a distant peak, and we
drew lots to decide that Hoyt with Dixon should

stalk the two sheep on the sky line, while the writer
IoI

102 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

and Albert should go after those descending into
the canyon.

Getting into the canyon was slow and difficult
business as we were obliged to get under cover of a
number of ridges in order to keep out of sight of
the sheep, and after ascending the canyon a half
mile we found the sheep had crossed over and were
slowly feeding up the mountain; so we put on full
steam ahead in an effort to climb the side of the
mountain and head off the ascending rams.

Wet with perspiration and panting with the effort
of speeding up the rocky slopes, we were about half
way to the first ridge when we happened to look
up; there stood the two rams with perfect, wide-
spreading horns nine hundred feet above us, looking
at our climbing with deep disgust; but on raising the
rifle for a chance shot, the rams vanished. ‘There
was no point whatever in going after them, but we
had nothing else to do and desired to have a look at
the range above, so we climbed up three thousand
feet and sat down just below snow line. The moun-
tains were covered with ewes and lambs feeding
undisturbed, but we saw no bands of rams, and even
the two we had attempted to head off had evidently
crossed over the range.

Looking across the valley we saw Hoyt and
Dixon, mere specks, climbing through the snow ©
fields; at last they reached the knife-blade summit
and dodged behind the pinnacles, but their quarry

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 103

went down the other snow slope and the hunters
ran down wind to within one hundred and fifty
yards of the rams that were plunging about in the
deep snow. Hoyt picked the largest and fired five
shots as the ram mounted toward the crest, two
shots went wide and two were hits, but the ram con-
tinued to run until the fifth shot put him out. While
they were engaged in taking off the scalp and horns,
the Indian and myself started for the willow patch
where we were to camp, and had hardly arrived
when Hoyt and Dixon came in, bringing the head.
This is the best specimen any of us have gotten:
the horns from base to point are symmetrical and
perfect, with a circumference measurement at base
of fourteen inches, a length of thirty-six inches and
twenty-seven inches spread; the annular rings show
seven years of age.

We are camped at a willow patch only twenty
feet above the rocky river bottom, but we are a
number of miles above the last timber and there
is nothing to burn except a few willow sticks, for
which we organized a hunting party and collected
enough with which to build a small fire for supper
and a supply for breakfast. By adding chunks of .
sheep and caribou fat to our willows we maintained
our fire long enough to fry some sheep meat and
boil our tea bucket; however, we have no fuel for
warmth and we are camped at an altitude of fifty-
three hundred feet and it is bitter cold, so we will

’

104 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

use the sky for shelter since we have no tent, and
roll up in our sleeping robes for warmth.

August 31. Fair and cold. Across the St. Clair
bottoms, which are a half-mile wide, the mountains
rise abruptly from a tundra bench, and looking at
the mountain opposite our willow patch without the
aid of glasses we located a band of seven rams, feed-
ing low down on the slope. In the gap through the
mountain wall we saw over two hundred of the beau-
tiful, snow-white animals dotting the slopes, but
they were all ewes and lambs, with the exception of
a large band of rams six miles back, which it was
impossible to reach, as we would have to stalk near
the ewes, which would inevitably stampede and
frighten the rams that were feeding upward on the
near-by mountain. We therefore started on horse
across the bottoms, fording the several branches of
the St. Clair.

Arrived on the tundra bench, we tethered the
stock and began our ascent of a ridge leading up-
ward to the snow slopes, where we stopped to take
another look at the rams. We found the entire
band had stopped feeding and had made their way
to the top pinnacles, where they were lying down en-
joying the landscape. A stalk from below in plain
sight of the game was impossible of success, a stalk
on the flank was equally futile for the same reason,
and to attempt to circle the mountain and come at
them from the rear was entirely out of our consid-

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON _ 105

eration, for the reason that they could not only see
us equally well climbing the other side of the slope,
but would get our wind long before we had started
our real climb up the rocks.

We were in a situation that often confronts the
hunter of this most difficult of all game. The keen
zest of sheep hunting is due not at all to the fero-
cious nature of the quarry, for mountain sheep are
not only utterly harmless to man, but are not even
destructive of other game; the lure lies entirely in
the difficulty and effort involved in obtaining these
beautiful pure-white animals, their noble heads
crowned with massive, curling, amber-colored horns.
The difficulties are many: the sheep not only have a
marvelously keen vision, but they match this fac-
ulty with an equally acute sense of smell, so that it
is utterly futile to attempt to hunt them within their
range of vision and quite as useless to try for them
even if hidden, when the wind blows from the hunter
to the sheep, as they stampede more quickly at the
scent of the hunter than at his appearance.

When we add to the highly sensitive natural en-
dowments of the mountain sheep the fact that its
habitat lies at the very top of the crags, thousands
upon thousands of feet up, amid peaks of eternal
snow, to reach which man must not only have good
legs but strong heart and lungs, immense vitality,
and infinite patience, we have the two reasons why
sheep hunting is not only the most difficult of all, |

106 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

but, by reason of the very difficulties, is the king of
sports, to which no other hunting compares. The
situation in which we found ourselves was exactly a
case in point, as the sheep had chosen their vantage
point on a peak, to which with much labor and energy
we certainly could climb, but which we could not
even approach without being seen by the wary ani-
mals. We did not even dare to climb up in front
of them for the purpose of alarming them, because
we wished to hunt for sheep on the peaks back of
this particular band, and to stampede these would
have been to stampede others on the rear peaks.

There were but two alternatives left us in this
situation: either to abandon our hunt, or to sit down
where we were in the hope that the rams would run
over to another peak where a stalk would be pos-
sible; we sat down to play a waiting game with the
sheep. While these rams held us inactive, the
writer amused himself by counting the sheep on the
mountain slopes across the river, on the same side
as our willow-patch camp and about three miles
above it. There was not a ram among the band
that dotted the slopes, but counting them singly,
that is: ‘‘ one, two, three, etc.,” and not guessing,
the writer had reached five hundred and thirty-one
ewes and lambs when he decided to stop counting,
as other bands began to come over the snow crests
and swell the multitude.

After two hours’ waiting the rams disappeared

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 107

over the pinnacle above, and we immediately started
to climb, reaching the top at 2.00 P.M., when we sat
down to eat our lunch of hard-tack and cold sheep
meat. The other side of the mountain sloped
down a number of thousand feet and then dropped
into a canyon, across which were lower tundra-
covered mountains, on which we picked out two fine
rams one mile away. ‘The writer, with Dixon, de-
cided to go after the band of seven rams we had
seen in the morning, but were now hidden by an in-
tervening ridge, while Hoyt and the Indian went
after the two rams on the tundra; and wishing each
other “‘ good luck” we started on our separate
courses. The writer’s stalk lay along a knife-blade
ridge of the mountain where the cold wind blew a
gale and where we made our way. slowly across the
faces of pinnacles that could not be climbed. The
game was located resting on another peak, separated
from our ridge by an abyss thousands of feet deep
but only one hundred and seventy-five yards across;
at the edge we paused and examined the rams with
our glasses, which disclosed one large head with per-
fect horns, the other heads being smaller, and sev-
eral with broomed or broken points. Just below
the slight rise at the edge of the gorge separating us
from the rams the writer focused his camera and
placed it within reach, and then took careful aim
with rifle at the chosen ram resting on the top of the
peak. A single shot ranging through behind the

108 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

shoulder caused the instant demise of the ram, but,
relaxing, he pitched forward and slid out of sight,
thousands of feet down the gorge. ‘The other rams
alarmed by the shot stood a moment like wonder-
fully posed statues on the sky line and their photo-
graph was taken as they stood thus, while a second
photograph was immediately made as they dashed
down the mountain in full flight! Dixon went
down the gorge to skin out the ram’s head, but on
reaching the animal found one of the horns had
been broken off eight inches in the fall, making the
head useless as a trophy; but taking some of the
meat he climbed back to the writer, and we sat down
on the ridge to watch Hoyt and the Indian, who
were slowly climbing down to the bottom of the
gorge.

It is not often that one has the opportunity while
hunting of watching another conduct a stalk and the
stalk of which we were spectators was unusually in-
teresting. As Hoyt and the Indian reached the
bottom of the canyon we focused our ten-power
binoculars upon them and continued to look with
growing interest and admiration as they began to
climb the almost perpendicular walls on tke other

1The writer regrets he is unable to show this picture taken
under most favorable conditions and with perfect light; but this
photograph with a number of others was utterly ruined later when
the boat crossing the Shims River sank, with all the writer’s ex-

posed films. In view of the mishap the writer is particularly
fortunate to preserve any portion of the photographic record.

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 109

side, as it seemed an impossible task. The Indian
was picking the course which ran diagonally upward
across the face of the rock and their going was slow,
with frequent pauses for rest; often they made their
way horizontally across the perilous rock faces only
to change again at favorable points to the upward
diagonal, until at last they came out of the canyon
on the tundra.

A stalk of three hundred yards behind a low ridge
brought them within seventy-five yards of the two
rams, the largest of which Hoyt selected and began
to shoot. There were two shots, both wide of the
mark, before the ram started to run, then three more
complete misses, and while Hoyt slipped in a fresh
cartridge clip, the Indian ran to head the game to-
wards the canyon, while Hoyt ran a short distance
and missed five more shots. The ram started for
the canyon and came down the side and started up-
wards towards the ridge where the writer and Dixon
had reserved seats, and a moment later Hoyt ap-
peared at the edge of the canyon and missed five
more shots. The ram went forward a short dis-
tance and stood for a moment before starting up
the slope again Hoyt shot, breaking a leg, another
shot went through the hind quarter, and the last
and eighteenth shot crashed through behind the
shoulder and killed.

We did not wait for them to dress the animal, but
went down the mountain towards our horses, and

110 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

there met Hoyt and the Indian, bringing in the
head, which is not so large as Hoyt’s ram of yes-
terday, though it is a fair size; the horns are un-
broken, though not quite symmetrical, as the tip
of one curves outward while the other curves inward.
Hoyt was much disturbed over what he calls “ rot-
ten shooting,” which was the more peculiar because
he is really a very good shot, but Dixon discovered
that the gun-sight had been knocked out of place
and Hoyt is slowly recovering his confidence.

It began to hail on the mountain top before we
left, and as we came to the horses the snow was
falling heavily on the slopes and it was raining in
the valley as we crossed over to our willow patch.
After an extensive hunt for willow sticks for fire-
wood, we gathered enough for our evening cook-
fire and for breakfast to-morrow. We also strung
up a five-foot-wide strip of canvas between two sticks
for a shelter and have elongated our makeshift tent
by adding horse blanket at one end and a rain coat
at foot; the result is not promising, but is the best
our advanced position affords. We dined on tea,
hardtack soaked in hot grease, and many pounds
of sheep meat, and had hardly concluded when the
rain turned to snow; at first the flakes were small,
but grew larger until they were about the size of a
silver dollar, quickly covering the ground and driv-
ing down upon us with blizzard intensity, driving us
to our make-shift shelter.

“WALIAHS AZVYO UNO AO LNO SHATASANO ONC AM ©
‘WYOLS MALIV WVU GALVOOI AM AYAHM LAAT NO AVad |!

:

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 111

September 1. We spent a sleepless but rather
amusing night in our crazy shelter, as the blizzard
increased in power and the snow caused our piece
of canvas to sag under the constantly increasing
weight. At intervals of about fifteen minutes one
of us would strike the sides of the canvas to relieve
the weight and we kept this up all night, with the
result that the accumulation of snow at the sides
half buried us. In the morning we dug ourselves
out of the shelter, to find the country covered with
two feet of snow on the lowest levels, with still
greater depths as we rose above the river bottoms.
Everything was frozen tight and blanketed with the
white mantle; our saddles had disappeared; our wil-
low firewood, kettle, frying pan, and grub supply
were all lost in the white drift, and we kicked around
for some time kneedeep in the snow before we lo-
cated and fished up our outfit.

_ We then discovered that our horses had even left

us in the lurch, and as this was a serious predicament
the Indian immediately took up their nearly ob-
literated trail and found them huddled in a canyon
to keep out of the wind. After bringing in the ani-
mals we managed to coax our willow fire into a flame
with the aid of chunks of sheep fat, and finally sat
down on our saddles for a respectable breakfast.
As we were eating, the storm began to moderate
and, between gulps of hot tea, Dixon managed to
tell us that he thought he saw a large caribou stand-

112 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

ing on a peak on our side of the creek and three
miles up the valley; we saw what he had in mind, but
it looked more like a rock pinnacle covered with
snow and half veiled with the skirts of the storm
drawing off across the mountains, so we paid no
attention to the object, except to remark that “a
caribou must be entirely crazy to take the air at
such a height on a morning like this.”

Our morning meal was finished just about the time
the sky cleared, and the sun glared down upon the
snowbound scene. The writer, with some curiosity
about Dixon’s caribou that displayed a taste for icy
pinnacles, turned his glasses upon the spot and saw
that the so-called caribou was a magnificent old ram,
who was evidently considering the question of where
he should go to dig through the drift for his morn-
ing meal. On looking up the creek bottom land the
glasses disclosed a herd of twenty-four caribou about
six miles off, with one big bull coming down from
the mountains at the head of the glacier, moving
in our direction to a less arctic and altitudinous
range for the winter. The writer with the Indian
decided to go after the big ram and to pass up the
caribou, while Hoyt and Dixon would pack up the
outfit, saddle the horses, then wait for the caribou
to come along to be killed, after which they would
move camp as far into the heart of the range as the
last willows.

We started afoot for the ram, traveling up the

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 113

side of a low tundra-covered mountain, but making
very slow progress as the snow was two feet deep
and became deeper as we ascended, while the tundra
beneath the snow was wet and boggy so we wallowed
along nearly waist deep in the mire beneath and
the wet snow covering. The temperature was
nearly zero and there was a slight crust on the snow,
but in spite of the cold and with only our hunting
shirt and no coat or sweater we were wet with per-
spiration: the glare of the unclouded sun upon the
unbroken whiteness would have been unendurable
except for our snow glasses. As we went forward
and upward we noticed the ram come down from the
peak and begin to dig through the drift for his break-
fast, while the caribou herd in the bottom land was
coming in our direction. When we were half a
mile down the range from the ram and at a level
of one thousand feet below him, the old fellow
stopped feeding and looked in our direction and as
we loomed black against the white background, we
sat down in the snow in order to convince that ram
we were rocks and not animated beings. ‘The per-
sistent creature continued to gaze at us and there
was nothing for us but to sit in the snow and shiver
and swear as the intense cold struck through our
garments, dripping with perspiration which made
our teeth chatter and our knees shake with a real
chill.

As we sat there helpless, the caribou herd came

114 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON.

along below us, twenty-four beautiful animals, bulls,
cows, and calves, showing black against the snow,
only a hundred yards away. Our watchful sheep
began to occupy himself with the study of animal
life in the Yukon and was particularly intent upon
observing this herd of caribou, but as we were di-
rectly in the line of vision between him and the
herd we continued to sit still and shiver and to ob-
serve the caribou ourselves, after first taking the
picture of the herd strung out on the snow fields be-
low us. The old bull was a fine old specimen, but
he certainly had his hands full; one moment he
would rush to the head of the column to keep the
leader on the course he had decided must be fol-
lowed; then he would rush back and herd the rest
of the animals into a bunch, so they would not be
strung out too far, and would threaten with lowered
head the younger bulls that came too near the cows,
or dash at a calf that straggled a bit. The old fel-
low had a large contract to run that-herd, but he was
- wonderfully active and one hundred per cent. effi-
cient, and it really seemed a pity to think he was
going to die, for looking down the bottoms we could
see Hoyt waiting for the bull. '

My ram continued to gaze past us at the herd, so
we continued to sit tight and not move. The herd
moved down opposite our camp, and we saw Hoyt’s
Mauser belch flame three times as he put an end
to the activities of the caribou at one hundred and

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 115

fifty yards. Still the ram continued his study of
migrating caribou and still we sat upon our icy
perch, until the herd had passed five miles below us;
that ram had with his curiosity held us prisoners for
exactly two hours and we were nearly frozen.
When he finally turned his gaze away, we leaped
from our snowy couch and dashed down-hill under
the brow for half a mile and then started up a gulch,
with the purpose of climbing above the ram and
coming out a hundred yards to the leeward of him.

About five hundred feet from the top of the bench
where we had last seen him feeding we were wallow-
ing waist deep through the snow, sweating and pant-
ing, when above us the old fellow looked down and
then vanished. We forgot fatigue and ran straight
up the mountain a hundred and fifty yards, plowing
through the snow, and as we reached the brow there
stood the ram, broadside two hundred and fifty
yards away, looking at us. My heart was racing
like a runaway engine, my breath came in gasps, and
I was shaking like an aspen under the terrific strain
of the climb and that final spurt; the rifle came to
my shoulder, but it wavered and trembled all over
the mountain at every spot except on the mark: I
lowered the rifle. The Indian beside me was in-
dulging in queer rites, shaking his head from side
to side and working his mouth with a very obvious
chewing movement; he whispered: ‘‘ Me fool him
sheep, think me caribou.” Again the rifle came to

116 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

my shoulder, though I was still trembling too much
for a fair aim, but the ram was about to jump so I
shot twice and missed both times. The sheep ran a
hundred yards farther and at the base of a sharp
incline just below the summit paused for a final look;
which was a fatal pause, as my breathing had be-
come steady and the trembling spell was gone. One
shot at three hundred yards was all that was neces-
sary, as my bullet ranged through the heart and the
ram was dead.

As we plowed our way over to the sheep, Albert
became very loquacious and tried to flatter me with
the honeyed words: ‘“ Him shoot same like Injun,
kill ’em far, kill ’em quick, just one time shoot”;
but I mildly suggested to Albert that, ‘“‘ I had made
two nice misses at very much closer range just a
moment earlier,” to which he replied: ‘“‘ All same
Injun fast beat him heart, no get him wind, no good
shoot.” Albert insisted that I take off my glasses
and sit down in the snow and shiver while he takes
a picture of ‘‘dam fool sheep, come feed in snow;
damfool hunter, like climb mountain in snow” (the
photograph is submitted in evidence as an admission
of the Indian’s point of view). The gentle savage
intended this doubtful language as a compliment to
the writer and not at all as an expression of con-
tempt, but his vocabulary is quite circumscribed and
his words have to be interpreted by an understand-
ing of what he means rather than what he says, and

Fad 0) Me ey
nAage” | ede Vd
Fer RN AAUe

Lo,
iy oS

1. A RARE AND PERFECT TROPHY.
2. WILLOW PATCH CAMP. ALTITUDE 5,800 FEET.

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON. 117

the real meaning is arrived at by a consideration of
his friendly smile.

The head was quite perfect from the base of the
horn to the very tips, fourteen inches in circumfer-
ence at base, thirty-four inches in length, and twenty-
three inches wide, closely curled and of perfect sym-
metry; the age of the ram was eight years.

After skinning out the head we packed it down
the mountain, sliding and slipping in the drifts, and
at the bottom Hoyt left the pack train traveling up
the valley and brought a horse for us to use as a
ferry in crossing the several branches of the river.
Making our crossing, we followed along Dixon’s
snow trail a number of miles up and camped at noon
at the last willow patch in the heart of the range.
When I say ‘‘ we camped,” I do not mean that we
put up a tent or shelter, as we had no tent and there
were no sticks to erect a shelter, but simply mean
that this willow patch, at an altitude of fifty-eight
hundred feet in a slight hollow, was the place where
our horses might feed, and we would gather small
sticks for a cook fire, while at night we would spread
out our sleeping robes in the snow and use the
heavens for atent. A more beautiful, majestic, and
wild panorama never faced a camera than the over-
whelming wilderness of towering crystalled white-
ness that surrounded us on every side.

We had lunch at this “‘ camp” and saddling our
horses started to plow our way through the snow,

118 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

following a course at the foot of the mountains
until we had made five miles, where we dismounted
to examine the slopes with glasses. Across a can-
yon were many sheep feeding on scattered and small
willow bushes low down at the base of the moun-
tains, but they were all ewe sheep, so we decided to
travel farther into the range and look for rams.
At the canyon we dismounted and led our horses
down the steep walls to the bottom and then up the
other side. [he canyon bottom is the lowest point
in the range and here were found scattered patches
of four-feet-high willows. Countless paths, plowed
down from the mountains to these willow patches,
showed where the sheep in the morning, unable to
paw through the deep snow on the slopes for feed,
had come down to the very bottoms of the canyon
to browse on willows.

It is at this season of the year, when the sheep
come down to the canyons to feed, that the grizzlies
hunt for sheep, as the bears lurk in the canyons and
stalk the sheep as they feed upon the willows.

By scanning the back trails from the canyon to
the peaks we were able to observe where the sheep
had returned to the crags and passed over the sum-
mits for the night. After riding along the top of
the canyon for several miles and tracing numerous
trails disappearing across the range, we found one
trail winding along the crags but not leading to the
top; minute examination revealed a band of seven

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 119

rams, whose color nearly merged with the snow back-
ground resting on a shelf three-fourths of the way
up the mountain. We looked over their horns
carefully and found two very large and perfect
heads, but as the hour was too late to begin a stalk,
we decided to try for them in the morning and
started back to camp. It was bitter cold and our
boots were frozen stiff as we rode toward our base;
at intervals we walked in order to keep warm, only
to get into the saddle again after plowing our way
on foot through the heavy snow.

About five o’clock we reached the willow patch,
unsaddled the horses, placed bells around their
necks, and turned them loose without hobbles, as it
was necessary to leave them unhampered to paw
down through the snow for such scanty feed as they
might be able to discover. We put on our parkies
with their fur-edged hoods, as the increasing cold
gripped us, and with a fire of willow sticks and sheep
fat managed to cook an evening meal; after which
we sat in the snow with our boots almost against the
small bed of coals and warmed and thawed out our
boots. The clear, still Arctic night came down
upon our pitiful camp; the jeweled lights of the
heavens seemed to sparkle from the night canopy
of deep blue no higher than the white, still peaks
that engulfed our hollow, as we looked upon the
firmament from our eiderdown ‘sleeping robes
stretched upon the frozen couch of snow.

CHAPTER VIII

“Wild and wide are my borders, stern as death is my sway;
From my ruthless throne I have ruled alone for a million
years and a day.”

September 2. Had a very comfortable night in
spite of the low temperature, as with our eiderdown
robes rolled around us on the snow were as warm
as one could wish. Everything was frozen solid
this morning, from our boots to the tea pail, but a
modest willow fire thawed out both of these neces-
sary items of equipment, and after breakfast we
brought the horses from a canyon, whither they had
sought shelter during the night, and saddled up for
a journey after the rams we had located late yester-
day afternoon. My horse, Bobby, has a white
nose, and this morning his muzzle was raw and sore
in a number of places, due to a combination of sun-
burn from the glare on the snow and a chapping
effect of the cold and wind, causing the muzzle to
crack open; only blond-faced horses are thus affected,
as the dark-muzzled animals never have these raw
sores. I gave Bobby’s face a coating of vaseline,

which he seemed to appreciate, and we started
I20

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON | 121

across the glaring snow-crust for sheep range,
circling around the base of the mountains.

Five miles into the sea of peaks above our camp
we saw a herd of thirty-four caribou that had been
summering in the high altitudes, but were now
driven out by the winter and were on the march to
lower levels. There were cows, calves, and small
bulls, in charge and under the strict domination of
a fine old bull with a big head, which we decided not
to shoot for fear of alarming the sheep that might
be within hearing distance. We were quite content
to watch the old patriarch manage his large family:
we saw him lead the way to a small willow patch,
and after his flock had browsed a few minutes he
deliberately drove them away and headed them
down the valley towards us, rushing first on one
side, then on the other, and finally at the rear of
the column, trying to keep his charges from strag-
gling or wandering off the course.

When the caribou saw us at about two hundred
yards they started to stampede in different courses,
but the old bull ran to the head of the column and
changed the leader’s course, and utterly regardless
of his own danger from us he rushed about, herding
the animals in the way he had selected, and was him-
self the last to follow; and as the flying band van-
ished around a low ridge the old fellow was charg-
ing a few smaller bulls from behind, driving them.
forward to make a compact formation.

122 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

We rode on through the snow fields, seeing many
ewes across the canyon, until we could observe the
ledge on which we had located sheep the previous
day.. The rams had evidently been feeding below
and had returned to the ledge, where they were rest- ©
ing in the snow, so we looked them over with the
glasses and found the two with the large heads.

It was impossible to stalk them in plain sight from
below, but it was an ideal situation to climb a ridge
on their flank to the dizzy heights and then stalk
down upon them from above; that is, it might have
been ideal but for a single factor which made it im-
possible, for the wary band had posted a sentinel
ram far out on a point about six hundred yards from
the resting sheep, and this sentinel not only had us
in full view, but had an unobstructed view of the
ridge by which we purposed to climb above his com-
panions.

Our plan of action, therefore, resolved itself into
‘anxious, wishful, watchful waiting,” as we sat
down in the snow with the purpose of closely imi-
tating the immobility of rocks. As we sat there
two small rams came down from the mountains be-
hind us and at close range crossed over the valley,
down the canyon, and over to another range. It
took until noon for that sentinel ram to become con-
vinced we were really rocks, or perhaps his appetite
gained supremacy over his duty as guard, but after
standing guard for nearly three hours he descended

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 123

toward the canyon and our line of assault was open.
Leading the horses and dodging behind low
ridges we came to the bottom of the slope, and,
tethering our. mounts in a deep gulch between two
ascending ridges, began our climb up the heights.
The lower slope was hard going, as the snow was
deep and we were continually falling down and
floundering around in the drift; the best we could
do was to ascend about two hundred feet and then
rest a few minutes to recover enough wind to con-
tinue; we panted and perspired under the strain of
that ascent, like Arabs crossing the burning sands
of the Sahara instead of hunters daring the icy
heights. The higher we climbed the more abrupt
became the ascent and, as we were frequently slip-
ping and slipping was dangerous, we went onward
and upward at a snail’s pace, using the butt of the
gun for Alpine stock and trying the footing a step
ahead before taking our weight off the rear foot.
The last stretch was one of those straight-up in-
ventions of the devil, where one digs his fingers
through the snow for a grip on the sharp rocks and
then feels around with his toes for a solid rock foot-
ing a little higher than his previous footing; some-
times we could not continue up, but had to climb
directly across the face of the cliff-like top to reach
a more favorable point of ascent. No one ever
thinks of looking back in a situation of this sort, for
to look anywhere except directly ahead is utter folly;

124 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

indeed, you do not think about anything else except
that next finger hold and step you are going to take,
and the danger of it all never enters your mind as
you concentrate on your next move and do not con-
sider possibilities.

At last we pulled ourselves to the knife-blade
ridge cutting the sky, where the wind blew cold and
where the ridge we must cross was less than eight
inches wide, covered with snow and dropping down
thousands of feet, whose magnificent depth we did
not even momentarily observe, as that eight-inch
ridge led up to safe and sane footing. As we knew
not whether the edge beneath the snow was loose
rock, or slippery soil, we made haste very slowly,
advancing and balancing along the icy sky line like
puppets in some outlandish show; sometimes the
snow and rocks displaced by our footing would slide
into the abyss on either side, but it was not a subject
for thought at the time though the subconscious
mind evidently made note of it.

At last we reached a flat top and began to remem-
ber the almost forgotten sheep, as we went rapidly
forward for nearly a mile, until we decided the
sheep must be almost directly below. A projecting
ledge obstructed our downward view, so we went
down a ridge to get a clear view, only to find the
sheep had moved. Even as we looked the band
came into view two hundred yards away, traveling
in the same direction as we were going, paralleling

,Aems AW St Yyeap SB UlI}G
‘siopioq AU oie apIm pue pIIM,,

—HONVA SVITH LS HHL AO LUVAH AHL.

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON © 125

our course on a lower level, but with the evident
intention of coming to the top.

Hoyt fired once and missed, and the band was off
at a gallop, while we stampeded up the ridge and
then ran a half mile along the summit in order to
head off the rams as they came to the sky line. ‘The
sheep, however, in single file plunged through the
snow, topped the summit far ahead of us, and
Dixon, looking through the glasses, called out the
second ram as a big head, which the writer by a
lucky shot wounded in the shoulder at four hundred
yards. A moment later Hoyt wounded the other
big ram at four hundred and fifty yards, and we
both wasted a number of futile shots at the rest of
the band as they vanished over the crest, after which
we each took the red trail left by our stricken game,
as the rams made their way down the mountain.
Albert and the writer watched Hoyt with Dixon go
after Hoyt’s wounded ram and a mile away saw
Hoyt’s rifle flash the finishing shot, when we turned
to follow the descending trail of my ram. At sev-
eral places the animal had laid down to rest and had
been eating snow, but we traveled over a mile and
had reached a level only a thousand feet above the
base of the mountain, when we came upon the sheep
standing in a little draw.

With one shot I put him out of his misery, and
we proceeded at once to examine him carefully.
The specimen was really a rare trophy, the horns

126 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

_ being very massive and absolutely symmetrical, with
perfect points unbroken and unbroomed. ‘The cir-
cumference of horns at base as we put the steel tape
around was fifteen inches, the outside curl of each
horn showed a length of thirty-seven inches, while
the width between the horns was twenty-four inches;
the annular rings revealed his age as eight years.
As it was three o’clock in the afternoon and we
had spent a strenuous morning since our five o’clock
breakfast, we sat down to a lunch of hardtack, cold
sheep meat, and raisins, after first taking stock of
my ammunition and discovering all that I had was
the single cartridge in the chamber of my rifle.
Luncheon was proceeding nicely with appropriate
hunting talk between the savage and myself and we
had nearly reached the raisin course, when we
looked down the slope and there beheld eight fine
rams only two hundred yards below us that had
come out of the canyon and had crossed our front,
and at full speed were going over a ridge that led
up to us. I grabbed the rifle and the Indian
grabbed the glasses, and we both rushed to the crest
of the ridge a hundred feet away. Albert called
out, ‘Shoot him big sheep, two back from leader”
(meaning the third sheep), and my last shot crashed
toward the three-hundred-yard distant ram, which
gave a slight jump as it continued with unabated
speed and topped a rise twenty feet ahead of it and
disappeared, followed by the other five rams.

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 127

I supposed, as a matter of course, my shot had
gone wide of the mark, so without comment Albert
and myself went back to our raisin course. We had
just finished that and were about to skin out the
dead ram beside us, when twelve more rams with
magnificent heads came out of the canyon and ap-
proached within two hundred yards before they dis-
covered us. Having no more ammunition, we
simply watched them while they rambled off at an
unhurried pace, and then turned our attention to
dressing our neglected ram. ;

I said to Albert, ‘‘ Rather rotten luck to be out
of cartridges with such fine rams coming right up
to be killed without doing any climbing after them;
and, besides, I really wanted a third head.” Albert
stopped his skinning operation, lighted his pipe, and
said: “ You speak him same thing,’’ so I was
obliged to repeat my observation. The Indian be-
gan to count on his fingers and, holding up three
brown digits for my inspection, informed me:
‘Him kill one ram big other time, him kill two
ram big this time.’’ I didn’t care to argue the mat-
ter with the Indian, as he had a bad-looking skin-
ning knife in his hand, but after he had gone back
to his mutton I told him that Hoyt had killed the
second ram back on the mountain; then Albert be-
gan to grin and, taking my arm, led me to the place
from which I had fired my last shot at the rams that
had gone over the ridge, and rather impressively

128 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

announced: ‘* Him shoot him good, kill him quick,
in heart shoot.” I laughed at Albert, and told him
that ram was five miles away by this time and that
I saw him running the twenty feet to the ridge just
as fast as before I shot; but Albert only smiled and
said: ‘* All same dead.”

Taking the head and part of the meat, we started
in the direction of our horses, crossing the ridge
where the rams had vanished; there not five feet
from the top of the ridge lay my third ram, shot
behind the shoulder with the bullet ranging through
the body and out the other side. The Indian
looked at the ram and, turning to me with an ex-
pression of assurance, remarked: ‘‘ Look, him
dead in heart, sometime big sheep run fast, shoot
him in heart; all same run little bit more,” and it
was even so. The head was not quite perfect, as
one horn was broomed at the point, making it an
inch shorter than the perfect horn; but I was glad
to have it, simply as showing what happens to the
horns, since I already had two perfect specimens.
The tape showed a base circumference of fifteen
and one-half inches, the perfect horn length of
thirty-eight inches, and a spread of twenty-five
inches, while the annular rings marked eight years.

While skinning this ram, Dixon and Hoyt came
up to us with Hoyt’s ram, which measured fifteen
inches around the base of the horn, with thirty-six
inches length, and twenty-seven inches spread, age

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON _ 129

eight years. Like my last ram, this one of Hoyt’s
has one horn broomed at the tip and an inch shorter
than the perfect horn. Dixon reported that a mile
back he located twenty-four rams with some very
large heads, and urged we go after them “ with a
good chance of getting a record head,” but as Hoyt
and myself each had three very fine specimens, we
decided the entire ram family might come up to us
and play around our camp in perfect security; so
packing our specimens on our backs we climbed up
and down several canyons and came out above our
horses. At the edge of a very steep slope Hoyt’s
feet went out from under him and he slid down
through the snow to the bottom, while the rest of
us howled with glee as he shook himself out of the
drift; at the same point the writer absolutely dupli-
cated Hoyt’s amusing performance, after which we
all felt better.

Our horses were a bit stiff with cold from long
standing tethered in the gulch, so we quickly
mounted and returned to our willow-patch camp,
where we turned the animals loose and prepared the
evening meal. Since we have all the sheep we de-
sire and in view of the scanty horse feed, we decided
to make an early start in the morning from this ex-
posed camp and return to our main camp in the tim-
ber on the St. Clair.

September 3. The horses evidently exhausted _
the available willow feed in our locality early during

130 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

the night, for about midnight we heard the tinkle of
their bells going down the valley, and Dixon got up
and went after them. An hour or two later they
started down again, so Albert took their trail and
brought them back; when they made the third at-
tempt, as it was about daylight, we decided to have
breakfast and start down the valley. Our single
pack animal, loaded with bedding, cook outfit, and
six big heads in addition to Hoyt’s caribou head,
presented a rather wonderful appearance with the
different horns along his sides and the big antlers
rising above his back.

As we went down the wide river bottom to lower
levels the snow became lighter, until at our home
camp in the timber there was no snow whatever,
though it lay deep upon the low slopes on either
side. The big snow had broken down several of
our tents, which had been set up again with six-inch
diameter ridge poles, but the snow had entirely
melted about camp, which presented a very summery
aspect compared to our recent willow patch.

The day we had gone up the left branch of the
St. Clair, Wolcott with Hayden had gone up among
the mountains on the right branch and had hunted
sheep. ‘There were many ewes and lambs ranging
in their locality, but they saw only several bands of
rams, one of which Wolcott killed; the head was
only fair size and not perfect, as one of the points
was broken. When they crawled out of the drift

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 1331

the morning after the storm and beheld everything
buried two feet deep, they concluded that sheep
hunting under such conditions was sport reduced to
its lowest terms, and made haste to leave the dizzy
heights behind, and returned to camp.

Cutting and Bettle with Baker went over the
mountains behind our camp the day we left, and
forced their way deep into the range, where they
were caught by the storm at a low willow patch.
They stayed on, however, and saw a great many
rams, which they stalked among the peaks. This
afternoon they came down to the home camp, bring-
ing in three rams’ heads of fair size, but imperfect,
as all of them have broken points.

Wolcott and Hayden went north down the St.
Clair this morning to look for moose, and ten miles
down rode up the mountains above timber line,
searching the valley with their glasses in an effort
to locate the game. This is rather difficult hunting,
as it is almost impossible to pick out these animals
in the thick timber below by looking for them from
above. Late in the afternoon, however, Hayden’s
_ keen eye located a bull moose lying down in the tim-
ber nine hundred yards away, and the hunters began
a difficult stalk, made more uncertain by the fact
that when they had advanced into the timber they
no longer knew exactly where the moose was resting.

Creeping carefully between the trees, they came
within fifty yards of the reclining bull before dis-

132 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

covering him, and Wolcott shot him as he lay there
and again as he got to his feet, while three more
bullets went into the running animal before he was
finished. After dressing and removing the head,
they brought it into camp about six o’clock. With-
out any exception this is the most beautiful moose
head the writer has ever seen; the palms are not
unusually long, nor is the spread of fifty-six inches
remarkable, but the horns are very massive, perfect
in symmetry and balance, with the points not worn
as is usual with the larger and older bulls. The
scalp is almost black, blending into brown; the bell
is six inches long, but this is due to the fact that
in this country it is extremely rare to find a moose
whose bell is not frozen off, leaving a short beard-
like projection.

September 4. We are all doubtless familiar with
the lion-hunting methods in vogue in East Africa,
where many natives surround a donga to which a
lion has been traced, and then with drums, kettles,
and any noise-making implement begin to advance
through the donga, making an unholy racket and
causing the frightened lion to leave the cover and
come into the open, where he is dispatched by the
hunter.

Dixon proposed a similar plan for a moose hunt,
which he calls a “ drive,’ and which seemed to the
writer to be an unsportsmanlike method of hunting,
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observe how it would work out, we decided to try
once. Across the river from our camp was a
timber-covered plateau, rising three hundred feet
above the river and extending back a mile and a
half with an upward slope to the top of the ridge
which was the end of the timber. Six miles down
the valley the river bends to the west, and the dis-
tance between the river and the ridge narrows down
to about three hundred yards.

The plan was for Dixon with two others to ride
across the plateau to the top of the ridge at timber
line; Jim Baker, with a tolling bell tied to his horse,
was to go to a point half way between the top of
the ridge and the river bank; Albert was to take his
stand on the edge of the plateau just above the river
bottom; the hunters were to be placed six miles
down the valley at the point marked o o o, where
the ridge approached the river. We started with
Jack Hayden, who had misunderstood Dixon’s di-
rections and placed us at x x x, where the plateau
was a mile and a half wide instead of only three
hundred yards wide, where we should have taken
our stand.

The stage being all set, we heard a distant rifle
shot as signal, and at once, where Dixon and Albert
were posted on the flanks of the plateau, a standing
dead tree flamed to the heavens and then began to
smoke, whilé Jim Baker began to ignite trees in
between the flanks held by Dixon and Albert. |

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 135

Then the flankers and Baker began to move for-
ward, lighting trees every two hundred yards as they
progressed; and as we, who were to do the shoot-
ing, watched the flaming torches come nearer, it
became obvious that the plan was absolutely perfect
for the extermination of moose. But there were
two fatally weak points in its execution for Baker
had too much ground to cover between the flankers
and should have had another to assist him, as the
moose had too much chance to break back before
he could cover the ground with his fires; the other
weakness lay in the fact that the hunters were placed
in such a way that the moose could easily circle our
ends without being seen, and the plan worked out
in just that way.

Finally a cow moose came into sight and we let
her pass; next Baker came along lighting trees and
ringing his infernal bell, while Dixon passed north
of us along the timber line, igniting trees. Then
we realized some one had misunderstood and the
drive was called off, not to be repeated. Baker and
the writer decided to ride north along the plateau
with the possibility of locating game, while the
others returned to camp.

Jim and I agreed that with one or two extra men
to help him in the center and the hunters placed
where the plateau narrowed farther down, the
moose drive would have been perfect; we also -
agreed that we were quite pleased that it did not

136 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

work out, as it is a fine scheme for killing, but a
rotten form of sport. Down at the river bend we
saw where the plateau narrowed to three hundred
yards, where Dixon intended the hunters to be
placed, and here were the newly made tracks of a
number of very large moose and some small ones
that had come through the narrows, descended the
plateau, and crossed over the river to the undis-
turbed timber. Back in camp we are glad to have
seen what a moose drive is like and to have partici-
pated in an unsuccessful one, but we are quite deter-
mined that we will hunt our moose in the future like
Christians and gentlemen and not by means of the
drive. |

September 5. Snow began to fall early last eve-
ning and continued all night, and the ground was
covered even down in the timber about our camp.
As the storm persisted all day, making it impossible
to locate game, the hunters stayed in camp and
undertook various repair work, while the guides
spent their time in taking care of the many heads
and scalps we had brought in as trophies of our
hunting. The writer became restless from lack of
exercise and decided to ramble across the moun-
tains, not so much in hope of seeing any game, as
the swirling snow obscured everything except at
close range. Going through the timber there were
many fresh snow trails of small moose, but no track

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON — 137

of sufficient size was located to warrant following.
After crossing several mountains and seeing noth-
ing, but having an eight-mile walk, I came down to
the river bottom, and in crossing the swollen St.
Clair succeeded in becoming wet and chilled, but
finally came into camp with that entirely alive feel-
ing that is begotten only by activity.

_ September 6. Dixon had been telling us of a
wonderful moose range about fifteen miles down
the valley and across the range, so the writer de-
cided to look it over with the thought of camping
there for a few days. We started at six this morn-
ing, a large party, as all of us were going along, but
after crossing Bull Creek, Hoyt and Hayden took
the lower level, Bettle and Baker took a middle
course, while Cutting and myself, with Dixon and
Albert, took the higher course, going up through
timber and traveling along the snow-covered, tundra
mountains above timber line, where we could see
everything; only there was nothing to be seen, ex-
cept snow-covered mountains whose barren monot-
ony of white was not even broken by a rock.

At noon we descended a steep mountain into a
ravine where there was some timber, and noticed a
lynx and porcupine trail in the snow leading to a
spruce tree, but not leaving the tree again; we
finally discovered both the lynx and the porcupine
had climbed to the top and were looking upon us in

138 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

fancied security, which became even more apparent
as we tried to drive them down with a fusillade of
snowballs.

Albert looked upon our unprofessional methods
for a moment, and then in tones tinged with disgust
said: ‘“‘ Ugh! me ketch him lynx,” to which we
added our enthusiasm. The Indian took a piece of
caribou thong five feet long from his pocket and tied
one end securely to a willow stick of equal length,
made a running noose at the other end, and drawing
on his thick leather gloves began to climb the tree.
The lynx went to the very top, and the tree swayed
as Albert went up to within four feet of the lynx,
where he adjusted the noose and very neatly threw
it over the head of the animal, and giving it a jerk
pulled him out of the tree into the snow.

Dixon grabbed the stick, and while the animal
tore around we stood at a safe distance, with a fine
respect for the razor-like claws. Finally Albert
threw a sack over the animal and pinned him to the
snow and, grabbing him by the back of the neck,
one foot at a time was released from the sack until
we had all his feet tied up with silk handkerchiefs.
Then we took the sack off and removed the noose
from his throat, and while Albert held him by the
back of the neck we took the captive’s photograph.
We expected to release him, but Cutting wanted him
to take home to catch mice, so the lynx was put in
a saddle bag, to begin the initial stage of his journey

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON _ 139

from the wilds of the Yukon to the wilds of New
York.

As we had spent considerable time with the lynx
hunt, we decided to have lunch where we were, and
had boiled the tea pail and were sitting in the snow
eating cold caribou steaks, when the horses began
to sniff suspiciously and gaze down the gulch five
hundred yards below us. Following their gaze, we
saw two grizzlies that had crossed the gulch and
were making their way up the mountain we had de-
scended. We figured that after reaching the top
they would scent our horse tracks in the snow and
would follow the trail to discover the cause, so we
grabbed our guns and, the writer leading the way,
started up the nine-hundred-feet-high slope, follow-
ing our horse trail.

Part way up Cutting ran ahead, and when we
were seventy-five yards from the top the smaller
grizzly came into view at the crest, and Cutting
with a single shot through the brain killed the bear.
Again we ran forward and the larger bear was seen
standing on hind legs, interested in what had hap-
pened to her cub; Cutting immediately began shoot-
ing, missing twice, but his third shot hit the paw,
and the bear turned a complete somersault and
rolled over in the snow, chewing and tearing at its
wounded foot for a moment, and then made off
down the mountain into the ravine, with Cutting
following.

140 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

The rest of us went back to our neglected lunch
and had about finished when Cutting, having aban-
doned the wounded bear, returned to our cook fire.
After we had finished, Cutting, with Albert, decided
to take up the tracking of the bear, while Dixon
and the writer continued on about five miles to a
reconnoissance of the moose country.

When Cutting had first abandoned the grizzly’s
trail, the animal traveled a mile, where Baker and
Bettle saw him jumping along two hundred and
fifty yards away, but he had disappeared before
Bettle could put the gun on him. About a mile
farther Hoyt and Hayden saw him seventy-five
yards away, running through a swale, and though
the shooting was difficult, because the game was visi-
ble for a moment only, Hoyt hit him at the first shot
and then finished him with five more well-aimed
shots. Cutting and Albert, hearing the shooting,
came in that direction and found Hayden skinning
out the grizzly, after which they all started back to
camp.

Dixon and the writer continued on above timber
line across some high tundra-covered mountains,
that finally ended in an almost perpendicular wall
which dropped down several thousand feet to a six-
mile-wide valley, fairly well timbered and contain-
ing a number of lakes. We searched the valley for
an hour or two with the glasses without discovering
any moose, but the writer decided it looked a prom-

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 141

ising moose country and determined to return the
following day and camp here a few days in order to
be on the ground for early and late hunting. At
five o’clock we began to retrace our steps to camp,
whither we arrived after dark. After getting Cut-
ting’s lynx out of the saddle bag, we had quite an
exciting time putting a collar around his neck, after
which he was chained to a tree and the silk hand-
kerchiefs taken from his feet, and there he is des-
tined to remain until he begins the second stage of
his journey to New York.

CHAPTER IX

“There where the livid tundras keep their tryst with the
tranquil snows;
There where the silences are spawned and the light of
hell-fire flows
Into the bowl of the midnight sky, violet, amber, and
rose.” .
September 7. Although the temperature was
low, a cloudless sky and brilliant, early-morning sun
promised a fair day, as we saddled our riding horses
and loaded a pack animal with bedding and small
cook outfit and made ready to start for the moose
grounds, which had been reconnoitered by the writer
yesterday. Albert and myself will spend several
days there, and we took Morley Bones along with
us in order to bring back the horses after we reached
our camping place, as we did not wish to be bothered
by having to look after horses in a locality where
horse feed was scarce and the probability of horses
straying off was almost a certainty.
Starting at seven, our course lay down the St.
Clair bottoms a number of miles, where we turned
off at Bull Creek and began our upward climb

through the timber until we came out on the tree-
142

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 143

less tundra-covered mountains, blanketed with snow.
While winding around the slopes, we located a band
of twenty caribou resting a mile away up on the
rounded summit. One of the animals, a small bull,
came down to investigate us, and for ten minutes
circled around within two hundred yards, alter-
nately loping along at an easy trot and stopping to
sniff the air.

These caribou seem to have an intense amount
of curiosity and appear to be unafraid at the sight
of man, as it has happened a number of times that
under the spell of the investigating spirit they have
come quite close. It always happened, however,
that as soon as they got our wind, they have started
off in full flight, and this particular caribou was no
exception to the rule; for, after running back and
forth along our flank for some time, he nearly circled
us, and as soon as he reached the windward his head
shot up, as he stopped for a moment with quivering
nostrils, and then he dashed in full speed up the
mountain.

About noon we descended somewhat to the edge
of timber, where we cooked lunch and decided to
camp, as the tundra mountain rose behind us a mile
to its highest ridge and then dropped down precipi-
tously a number of thousand feet into the broad ©
valley where we would hunt moose. Our high
ridge gave us an excellent vantage point not far
from our camp, from which to search the valley with

144 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

our glasses early and late. Bones left us after
lunch, taking back all the horses and promising to
return for us five days later. As we had brought
no tent, we selected a large spruce tree, whose lower
branches we stripped on one side; then cut smaller
spruce trees, the ends of which we rested on the
lateral branches of the big tree about five feet up
the trunk, and this furnished us with a brush shelter
for the night.

Early afternoon found us on the ridge, walking
along the edge and searching with our glasses the
snow-covered valley below. As the timber was
quite thick in the valley we were obliged to travel
many miles along the ridge in order to make a care-
ful examination. Finally a dark shape was seen
moving through the timber, and it was some time
before we had a clear view of the head, but our
examination disclosed the animal to be a cow moose,
which we did not want. Across the snow fields on
the tundra the setting sun blazed its dazzling path,
leading across valley, mountain, and icy peaks, past
towering Mt. Natazhat, until it sank into the sea
of peaks to the westward. Immediately the snow
fields were faintly tinted with lavender, deepening
to light purple, while the mountain fronts shadowed
violet as the night crept up from the already dark-
ened valleys. We stayed out until dark without
seeing any further game, and then returned to our
brush camp for supper.

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 145

Albert tells me that in November this low tundra
mountain is covered with many sheep that have left
the high mountains up the St. Clair, where in winter
the snows are very deep and it is difficult to get feed.
I have asked him about this several times, as the
sheep ranges of the St. Clair are nearly forty miles
away, and I have never heard of sheep moving such
a distance from their native range; however, Albert
says he has come here a number of times in Novem-
ber to kill his winter supply of sheep and caribou,
and he has always found sheep along the low moun-
tain ridge on whose slopes we are camped.

September 8. At four o’clock we were break-
fasting in the dark and half an hour later found us
on the ridge, looking down upon the valley, waiting
for the coming of the light. The snow fields
showed bluish white, while the peaks were faintly
tinted with pink, as the first rays of the sun fell far
across them, but as the sun rose higher the pink
faded and the entire landscape sparkled under the
glare. I have often wondered why the painters
almost invariably fail to differentiate between the
early morning pink tinge on their snow fields and
the faint lavender tint which setting sun casts upon
a winter landscape, for the distinction is quite obvi-
ous to the keen observer. As the Indian and my-
self sat shivering on the ridge under the magic and
wonder of the dawn, I asked him why the sun made
a pink color as he came across the mountains in the

146 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

morning and a lavender tint as he disappeared be-
hind the peaks at night, and received the simple
answer: ‘“‘ When Big Fire come in morning, him
make all warm, him make warm look on snow; when
Big Fire go down sleep, him make all cold, him
make cold mark on snow; tell Injun go make fire.”

We walked along the ridge many miles, search-
ing the valley for moose, but failed to locate any-
thing until five miles from camp a herd of twenty-
one caribou were seen on the tundra, pawing down
through the snow to get their morning meal of white
moss, which is almost their only winter diet. Since
our need for meat was pressing, the writer picked
out a small calf, which fell dead with a single shot,
and Albert packed the animal on his back to our
camp, where we immediately fried and dispatched
all the rib chops.

At eleven we were again on a lookout ridge, and
seven miles away down the valley at Tepee Lake
we saw a moose feeding in the water. The glasses
disclosed him to be a bull with a very good head and
a twelve-inch-long bell which had not been frozen
off in the winter. We wanted him badly, but did
not dare to leave our vantage point, as long before
we could reach him his feeding would be finished
and we would not know the course he had taken.

After watching him an hour, the moose left the
lake and started into the timber on the right, and
we saw him no more. It was almost useless to at-

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON _ 147

tempt to track him, as a bull moose at this season
is one of the most wary animals that roam the wil-
derness. They are very particular, when they lie
down, to select a place where they can not only
observe their immediate back trail, but where any
hunter following the trail is sure to have his scent
wafted to the animal. Albert looked at the country
to the right of the lake, and finally decided the
moose would circle carefully around a certain hill
which was a mile and a half from the lake and would
go to the top for several hours’ rest. Why Albert
selected this particular hill among any number of
hills, I know not, but the writer never questions the
judgment or instinct of an Indian on the subject of
moose hunting, so we started down the mountain.
The timbered valley, that appeared so inviting from
above, was found to be one vast bog, into which
we sank six inches with every step, making walking
very slow and tedious.

At last we reached the base of the hill the Indian
had selected as the resting place of the moose, and
after testing the wind to be certain our scent would
not be wafted towards the crest, our final stalk be-
gan. Crouching low and placing our steps care-
fully in order to avoid breaking any twigs, we had
almost reached the crest, when, in spite of our cau-
tion, we made a slight noise, and the bull jumped
up seventy-five feet ahead of us and made off before
we could get a shot.

148 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

We stood still for five minutes, and then decided
the moose would not run far as he had not seen us
and was not greatly frightened. Albert started out
and made a circle of three miles, reporting on his
return that the animal was somewhere within the
circle; so we started out to locate him, and had
climbed a high ridge and were about to descend to
a ravine and climb a low hill on the other side.
Albert became a bit careless, and said: ‘‘ Moose
other side hill”; even as he spoke, the bull heard
his voice and jumped up. ‘Two of my shots missed,
as he vanished over the ridge out of sight, but he
came in sight again four hundred yards away and
stood for a moment, when by good luck rather than
good shooting I placed a shot through the body,
which severely wounded him, but did not bring him
down. At once we took up the red trail on the
snow and followed it a number of miles; frequently
the moose stopped to eat snow, but invariably
forged ahead. We tracked him seven miles and
then abandoned the chase on account of darkness, to
resume the tracking the following day, when Albert
said the moose would be dead.

The climbing up to camp in the darkness was slow
and difficult work on the snow slope, but after sev-
eral hours we reached our brush shelter and built
a roaring fire, before which we dried out our wet
garments and roasted a hindquarter of the calf cari-
bou suspended from a stick above the coals. Albert

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON _ 149

was quite disturbed at the idea we had been so un-
skillful as to alarm the moose, and expressed him-
self quite at length on the subject. ‘“‘ Boots no good
for hunt moose, easy scare him this time; not same
summer time, that time no easy scare; me talk too
much, scare moose last time.’ We agreed, how-
ever, that in the future the writer will muffle his
feet if the Indian will play a dumb role, and that
we will commence our reform to-morrow if the op-
portunity is offered.

September 9. We have had a very strenuous
day and as we sit beneath our brush shelter with a
real man’s fire radiating warmth and cheerfulness,
while outside of our evergreen bower the wind
howls and the blinding snowstorm rages through
the darkness, the weariness of the day’s work fades
and a sense of restfulness and quiet amusement
reigns in our little camp. As I look at my dusky
companion the words of Kipling descriptive of
Fuzzy Wuzzy,”’

“ T’ve fought with many across the seas,
And some of ’em was brave and some was not,”

persist in forcing their way from the margin into
the center of consciousness, not because of any fight
in which we have engaged, but by reason of the hunt
we have made to-day.

The writer has hunted with many men of various
races, from savage to the usual white guide, from

150 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

Hudson’s Bay Cree, Ojibway, and the Montanais
Indian down through the half-breed strain to the
full blood, white trapper, but has never quite
reached the hunting technique employed by Albert,
my Aishihik Indian companion, on to-day’s hunt.
We had breakfast and were out on the ridge on
lookout by four-thirty this morning and we saw
nothing whatever until eleven o’clock, when three
bull moose came into the water to feed at the far
end of Tepee Lake nine miles away.

There were two small bulls and one immense bull,
whose magnificent spread of horn we clearly made ©
out with the glasses as his wet antlers flashed in the
sunlight. While we watched this bull, not daring
to leave our lookout until he ceased feeding and
indicated the direction of his afternoon’s resting
place, we too satisfied our hunger with smoked cari-
bou meat and hardtack, until the old bull finally
stopped feeding and swam across a little bay. We
watched the two small bulls follow him, until he
drove them off, and then pursued his solitary course
along the lake beach and disappeared into the tim-
ber. Albert looked over the country carefully and
finally picked out a hill where he felt sure the moose
would go to rest, and at once we hurried down the
mountain and began our ten-mile stalk for that dis-
tant hill.

As we “ mushed ” through the snow masking the
clinging bog, into which we sank with every step,

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 151

the Indian, traveling ahead, was certainly keeping
the vow of silence made the previous evening. Ar-
rived at Harris River, flowing through the middle
of the valley, we looked at the three-feet-deep icy
stream for a moment until the Indian announced:
“Us take off boots and sox, not get feet wet,’’ so
we removed these items of footwear, tied them
around our necks, and waded across to the other
side, where we dried our feet and replacing our sox
and boots continued through the marshy valley.
Two miles farther we pressed on in silence when
the Indian stopped and, turning to me, said: ‘“ Big
boots make big noise, scare him moose; us take off
big boots and sox, walk in bare feet in snow; easy
walk, come close, not scare him moose,”’ and, suiting
the action to precept, the Indian began to remove his
own boots.

I looked a moment at the eight-inch-deep snow,
soft and wet, and decided to play up to any hunting
game the Indian would propose, so with boots dan-
gling around our necks and trousers rolled above
our knees we took our barefoot and bare-legged way
through the snow. After an hour’s mushing in this
manner I had gotten over the amusement of hunting
barefoot in the snow and decided to put on my sox,
at least for warmth, but soon discovered that the sox
held a large amount of icy water, as they sank into
the marsh, and the extremities were colder than they
had been without the sox, so I came back to the

152 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

barefoot stalk. Really this method of stalking re-
sults in one hundred per cent. silence, for the reason
that twigs and branches hurt the bare feet and con-
sequently the stalker is particular to avoid them.

We approached the hill where Albert felt the
moose was resting, and with less noise than the
drifting snowflake searched every foot of the
ground; shod in silence we searched two other hills
without result, and finally came upon the trail of our
moose leading across a wide, low marsh, as he evi-
dently had no intention of resting on any of the
near-by hills. Taking his trail, we decided to fol-
low him; and if his course led to a hill we would
stalk him, provided there was still sufficient day-
light; or, if the light failed, we would still camp
under a tree and stalk him in the morning. For a
long distance we hung on his trail, through the
marsh, down the valley, with no deviation towards
the hills; it began to snow hard and darkness came
on, making it impossible to do further tracking as
the snow blanketed the tracks; it was futile to at-
tempt to follow an obliterated trail and equally
unpromising even to hope to pick it up in the morn-
ing when the snow would be deeper.

It was disappointing and difficult to come to the
point of giving up that moose, as we had decided
to follow that trail and, forgetting our blankets and
grub, to sleep on the trail until we had that moose;
but we had reckoned without the snow which wiped

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 153

out all tracks, leaving us no trail to follow. In the
darkness we put on our footgear, and facing north-
ward into the driving snow began our weary and
slow journey back to the brush camp. Since four
o’clock in the morning we had eaten nothing except
a little hardtack and some strips of “ jerkey ’; we
had mushed over twenty miles through the snow-
covered bog, where every step involved the addi-
tional effort of pulling out of the clinging mire, and
as we toiled up the mountain slope in the darkness
and in the storm we were conscious of that gloomy
feeling of very weary, hungry men, who had played
the game to the limit of our abilities and had failed
because of supervening conditions beyond our con-
trol.

We roasted the other hindquarter of our caribou
as we dried out beside a roaring fire; we also roasted
a pile of marrow bones we had been collecting, and
after devouring all the cooked meat and marrow,
we are quite ready to start a new hunt to-morrow.

September ro. ‘This morning the blizzard con-
tinued with undiminished power, obscuring the view
and making hunting impossible, so we cleaned gun,
made our brush camp a bit more impervious to
snow, and collected trees for firewood. In the after-
noon the storm abated somewhat, and through the
scattering flakes we saw a herd of caribou feeding on
the sky line of the tundra three miles above us; the
writer decided to get a calf for meat, while Albert

154 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

went to bring in the head of the moose we had shot
two days ago. While stalking up the tundra for
the caribou the blizzard resumed its sway with in-
creased power, and the game was entirely hidden in
the blinding snow; however, I continued to the top,
in hope of blundering into the herd, but the animals
evidently got my wind, as I saw nothing more of
them.

After Albert’s return we sat down for a “ big
feed’ upon the last of our caribou, and then, piling
our fire four feet high with logs, reclined on our
robes beneath the brush shelter and prepared to
spend a sociable evening exchanging ideas. Albert
is the eldest son of the tribal chieftain, who is of
advanced age and who will be succeeded by his
eldest son, but Albert tells me he has made up his
mind to decline the honor in favor of “‘ Rabbit,” his
brother. I have pressed my companion on this mat-
ter, and learn that the chief is a man who settles all
disputes between the members of the tribe and
whose decisions on any matter are not only re-
spected but are final. However, there is no mate-
rial advantage in being chief, since the tribe does not
in any way contribute to his support, and the honor
is an empty one, made the more empty by reason
of the fact that custom decrees the chief shall each
year give a “ potlatch.”

This ‘ potlatch” is a party given to the whole
tribe, with the chieftain playing the part of host.

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 155

The chief must purchase from two to three hundred
blankets from the Indian traders, and as this in-
volves an expense of about twelve hundred dollars
he must have had a successful trapping season in
order to finance the social duties of his position.
Having provided the blankets, he sends runners to
the various bands and families, inviting them to at-
tend the “ potlatch” on a certain day at a fixed
place, and in the meantime the chief and his family
kill many caribou, moose, and sheep for the tribal
fest.

On the designated day the members of the tribe
come together and erect their tents, the meat is
roasted before immense fires, and at evening the
entire tribe shoot off rifles to start the celebration
which precedes the big feast. Then the chief
‘“makes big talk’’ to the tribe, and completes his
part in the play by presenting every one with blan-
kets, after which there is much dancing. This con-
tinues for several days, or, to be exact, until the
meat supply runs out, when the various families de-
part to their trapping grounds, leaving the chief im-
poverished, but conscious of having performed his
social obligations.

Albert voiced his views as to chieftainship as
follows: ‘‘ Chief all time poor, all time give pot-
latch; me not be chief.’”’ However, the writer has
by suggestion planted a seed in the Indian’s mind
that may grow into a new custom, as I have pointed

156 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

out to Albert that since everybody obeys the chief,
and since the chief gets nothing for performing his
duties, he should make each family bring him a
certain amount of fur each year and by selling this
fur to make a “‘ potlatch,” he could give the party
without stripping himself. Albert is much inter-
ested in the plan and has several times asked more
about the details, and the way he nods his head as I
explain the fairness of the plan argues strongly for
a new tribal custom for “ potlatches”’ in the Yukon
wilderness.

September 11. The snow had ceased falling,
though gray clouds continued to shroud the peaks
as we started down to Tepee Lake at five o’clock in
the morning in order to be close at hand in case any
moose came out to feed, our plan being in that event
to make a rapid stalk for the game while it was in
the water. On the way down the valley we saw
two cows browsing upon willows, but we passed them
and at seven o’clock took our stand on a hill-top
near the edge of the lake. It was very cold; in fact,
the low temperature must have been discouraging
for moose to feed in the lake, as we waited until
noon without seeing any sign of game. ‘Then as it
began to snow we decided to go back to the brush
camp and had reached a point within three hundred
yards when we saw the saddled horses that had been
brought for us, and as George Wright, who had
brought the animals, was profitably engaged in cut-

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 157

ting logs for the fire we sat down where we were
and waited until he had finished chopping before
coming up to congratulate him on the steady swing
of his ax. At four o’clock we packed up our outfit
and, heading into the storm, left our brush camp
behind and started for the home camp on the St.
Clair River, whither we arrived some time after
dark, to find all the hunters and guides in camp,
where we had a big talk fest.

The day we had started for the Harris River
moose country, Wolcott, Cutting, and Bettle, with
Dixon and Baker, had gone back up the St. Clair to
our last willow patch camp in order to hunt sheep.
Wolcott succeeded in getting a head with fifteen inch
circumference at base of horn, but the horns some-
what broomed and imperfect at the points. Wol-
cott had also gone over to where Hoyt had killed a
sheep the day we climbed the snow slopes, and when
within seventy-five yards had found a nice grizzly
feeding upon the sheep carcass. The bear vanished
over a ridge, however, before Wolcott could shoot,
so the hunter ran after the bear and by excellent
shooting killed him at a range of four hundred
yards.

Bettle reported a rather interesting sheep hunt
with Dixon. Having located seven rams on a
mountain slope, Bettle decided to climb above them,
which he accomplished after much effort as the snow
was deep and the ascent steep. When he was

158 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

directly above the rams, Dixon started from below
the band to stalk up in plain sight in order to frighten
the sheep and stampede them up the mountains to
Bettle. As Dixon stalked up, the rams became
alarmed and started upward, but the snow became
deeper as the rams went higher, until they were
floundering around shoulder deep and unable to
make their way higher up through the drift. Then
they turned upon Dixon, who had no gun, and
massed together with lowered heads the band
charged down upon the guide who blockaded their
downward path to safety, and the guide wisely re-
moved himself from their course, while the rams
dashed past him in headlong flight.

As it is snowing hard again to-night we have held
a council and decided that in view of the continued
snows it behooves us to get part of our outfit and
trophies across the mountains before the snow be-
comes too deep to block our retreat. Accordingly
Wolcott and the writer plan to start to-morrow
morning, if the weather is favorable, and with Baker
and Hayden attempt to force our way across the
range to the valley of the Wolverine and make our
way out and down Kluane Lake to the Slims River,
where we will go up to the glacier and hunt goats.
George Wright will take a number of pack horses
loaded with trophies and provisions, and relay them
as far as the cabin at the junction of the Wolverine
and Donjeck. In the meantime, as horse feed is

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON _ 159

scarce on the St. Clair, the others will move their
camp down the St. Clair and up the Harris River
Valley where Albert and myself have been hunting
moose, and Wright will join them with the horses
after leaving his load at the Wolverine. In this
way the rest of the party will not have to take their
horses over the high range, but will come out up
Harris River past Tepee Lake, which is the same
valley into which flows the Wolverine.

CHAPTER X

“The lonely summits flame and die:
The giant valleys gulp the night;
The Monster Mountains scrape the sky,
Where eager stars are diamond bright.”

September 12. To those who are destined to ar-
rive the gods give propitious signs of their favor,
and the brilliant sun with unclouded sky that greeted
us as we came from our tents seemed to us partic-
ularly favorable omens for a successful crossing of
the range. Nor could the crossing be considered
without those same favorable weather conditions,
for the reason that after we should start we would
be obliged to cross over in one day in order to reach
horse feed, without which it is impossible to take
pack animals over mountain crests that tower thou-
sands of feet, where those same pack animals are
loaded with two hundred and fifty pounds each, and
the entire range is covered deep with snow, from the
bottom of the lowest canyon to the furtherest sky
piercing peak.

It took some time to pack the horses, as sheep,
caribou, and moose horns are difficult items to ar-
range into packs in such a manner that the horns

are pointed away from the sides of the pack animals,
160

—
.

CROSSING ST. ELIAS RANGE, MT. NATAZHAT IN
DISTANCE.

2. AUER’S PACK TRAIN CROSSING THE ST. ELIAS RANGE.

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 161

but at length the side packs were adjusted, the dia-
mond hitches cinched tight over the pack covers, and
we were ready. ‘Taking leave of the hunting com-
panions and guides, who would follow a week later
through Harris River Valley, Wolcott and myself,
with Baker and Hayden and George Wright with
the pack train, started down the snow-covered St.
Clair bottoms until we came to Bull Creek, whose
dwindling course we followed up the rocky canyon
into the heart of the hills where the going was slow
on the bowlder-strewn, snow-covered footing, and
where we forded the rushing stream a number of
times.

Six miles up the creek we began our ascent of the
mountian slopes covered with deep snow with
George Wright leading the way while the rest of us
followed single file, leading our saddle horses with
the pack animals scattered between us through the
column so we might keep them from straying.
Ridge after ridge we traversed, plowing our upward
way through the drift, dripping with perspiration
despite the lowering temperature of the mountain
crests, stopping frequently to get our breath and
rest the horses. The slopes were very slippery, the
sun glare on the snow was frightful, and would have
been unbearable except for our snow glasses, but the
poor pack beasts plodded along with closed eyes to
shut out the awful glare.

The horses were frequently slipping in the snow,

162 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

but without falling, until old Reiley, loaded with
sheep horns for side packs and caribou antlers for
top pack, slipped on a bad slope and rolled over. —
Fortunately he had sense enough to lie quiet and
thus prevented the sharp horns of his packs from
piercing his sides, while we took off his load and
helped him to his feet again, after which he received
his burden and the caravan continued its ascending
course. AA little later Reiley wandered away from
the column, probably with his eyes shut, and was
headed straight for the edge of a precipice and had
reached a point within two feet of the brink, when
Jack Hayden caught him and brought him within
the fold. |

At the summit of the pass we looked back upon
the most stupendous and dazzling scene that has
ever risen before the writer’s gaze, as ridge after
ridge of mountains rising rank upon rank, glowed
and glared in the sun like metal at white heat, while
the mighty ice mass of Mt. Natazhat’s seventeen
thousand feet crest challenged the heavens. In sun-
shine, with the Gods of the Wilderness smiling, the
crossing proved to be nothing more than very stren-
uous climbing up the snow slopes, in the midst of a
panorama of infinite and unspeakable beauty and
grandeur; but had a blizzard overtaken us the story
must have been very different. In the afternoon we
came down the mountains, and at four o’clock found
the first willow where we could get a little firewood

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON _ 163

and where the horses might have a little feed. We
decided to stop here for the night, as there was no
other horse feed until we should reach the Donjeck
River.

This place could hardly be called a camp as there
was nothing in the way of poles with which to erect
a tent, but that did not concern us as much as the
difficulty in finding a spot where we could lie down,
as the slope was steep and to lie down was to place
ourselves at a slant of forty-five degrees, with the
probability of sliding down through the snow into
the canyon. We organized a hunt for a reasonably
level resting place on which to roll up in our robes
in the snow. After our hunt for a resting place, we
made a search for dead willow sticks and collected a
small supply to cook our supper and breakfast; that
is to say, we had enough to thaw out and warm our
stack of-sheep steaks which are very edible even if
raw. George Wright looked at the pile of half-
cooked sheep meat and ventured the remark: ‘‘ This
would be no place for Mrs. Nuts.” We told him
we did not know the lady, and agreed with him that
this was no place for any lady, but that we would
be interested to learn why it would be particularly
unfavorable for Mrs. Nuts. ,

Wright hitched himself almost into the handful
of coals that failed even to melt the snow and said,
‘Well, there was a woman come up from the out-
side during the Klondike stampede and she was a

164 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

queer one; she was one of these browsers; wouldn’t
eat no meat, just grass and willows and truck that
grows; you know these browser people; there lots
of ’em back outside. Well, she came up with the
gold rush and brought with her nine hundred pounds
of nuts for grub; we never did know her name, but
that cut no figure, cause every one called her Mrs.
Nuts.” After consuming an alarming amount of
underdone sheep, as our fire was useless for warmth
and the cold was intense on the mountains, we rolled
up in our sleeping robes on the frozen snow slope
with our heads pointed toward the stars.

September 13. In spite of our inclined snow
couch and lack of shelter, our sleeping robes kept
us comfortably warm against the chill of the high
altitudes, and after a partially warm breakfast the
horses were rounded up and packed with their
burdens, and we continued our descent of the
mountains, traveling down a gulch that held a tiny
trickle of water, which, as we progressed, grew in
volume until it turned out to be one of the branches
of the Wolverine River.

The footing was cruel upon the horses as the
canyon was strewn with sharp bowlders through
which we picked our way slowly, frequently crossing
the stream. At noon we had descended to levels
where there was no snow and drove down the gorge
at a more rapid pace, made possible by being better
able to pick our way among the rocks, Coming

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 165

out of the canyon into the valley of the Wolverine
and Harris River, a heavy rain set in down the val-
ley, while the mountains on either side and the range
we had just crossed were veiled and shrouded with a
driving snowstorm, upon which we gazed with im-
mense satisfaction to think that the storm had held
off long enough to permit us to cross, as the crossing
in a blizzard such as was then raging over our trail
of yesterday would have been utterly out of the
question.

Rain and sleet persisted all the afternoon as we
plodded along the gloomy valley, following the
swollen Wolverine until we came to the hunting
cabin of Dixon on the Donjeck at four o’clock.
Since we had nothing to eat since early morning and
as the Wolverine was too high for fording, we de-
cided to stop for the night at the cabin and dry out ©
before the fire. We are glad the rest of our party
will not attempt to follow our trail across the moun-
tains, but will come around through the St. Clair
and Harris River valleys, as the blizzard of to-day
raging upon the mountains must have added con-
siderable depth to the snow upon the range.

After a large supper of sheep meat, Jim baked
several loaves of real bread, while we sat about the
stove and dried our rain-soaked garments until it
was time to roll up in the sleeping bunks. We are
praying for a cessation of the rain, as the Wolverine
is on a rampage and the Donjeck is correspondingly

166 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

wild, so that a fording on the morrow looks decid-
edly dubious in view of the fact that the rain still
continues.

September 14. As we had five o’clock breakfast
at the cabin, the rain had ceased, but the leaden
clouds overhung the Donjeck Valley and the wind
blew cold between the mountains. Bidding good-
by to George Wright, who was returning with the
unloaded pack horses to the rest of our party, we
took our own saddle horses, with two pack animals
loaded with outfit and provisions, and made a suc-
cessful crossing of the Wolverine, after which our
course led up the valley of the Donjeck, traveling
along the bars.

During the morning we had a number of snow
flurries, while back upon the mountains it snowed
very hard. As we plodded along with a cold wind
from the north at our backs, a silver gray fox sat up
on one of the bars, five hundred yards ahead of us,
but the wary animal did not permit closer approach
but sought safety in flight. About noon we came
to a ford on the Donjeck River and plunged into
the swift current, where the horses were shoulder
deep in the stream, but made the crossing success-
fully in spite of being carried down-stream a short
distance. In the early afternoon we reached the
timber on the east side of the valley where the trail
starts up across the tundra-covered Burwash Moun-
tains, that had been difficult of crossing on our

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON _ 167

journey in, and which promised increased difficulties
for recrossing by reason of the snow covering.

As the distance across the Burwash Mountains
was about thirty-five miles and there was no horse
feed on the way, we decided to camp for the day
where we were at Ed. Benson’s tent, giving the
horses a good rest and enabling them to feed well
upon the pea vine in the valley. This also gave us
a chance to bake bread and prepare for an early start
in the morning, with the hope that our rested horses
could make the long drive across the Burwash range
in a single day.

September 15. As we tumbled out of the tent at
4 A.M. the sky had cleared, but the air was bitter |
cold and the small streams and ponds frozen tight.
The horses had evidently not strayed during the
night, but had been devoting their time to the con-
sumption of pea vine, so they were rested and fit for
the jong drive before them. Five o’clock found us
all packed and on the trail leading up the timber
slopes covered with eight inches of snow, and after
two hours’ climbing and frequent resting we came
out above timber line to the slopes of the Burwash.
- Our crossing had been difficult enough on our way
in, but the snow made our continued progress doubly
dificult. The white mantle appeared sufficiently
innocent, but always beneath lay the tundra, and be-
low the tundra the inevitable bog and water, into
which man and beast sank at every step.

168 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

At Wade Creek we found the surface frozen over
and very slowly led our horses across the ice as they
were not sharp shod and the crossing was difficult;
sometimes both horses and men would break through
the ice into the stream and wet feet certainly added
nothing to the crossing. As we plowed our way
through the snow and sank into the mire, both our
horses and ourselves began to grow weary under the
strain and it became evident we could not hope to
get over the range that day; so we decided to skirt
the range by traveling down the canyon of Burwash
River, where the footing, even though rocky, was
less killing than across the summits.

Noon found us picking our way along the rocky
gorge where we traveled more rapidly and with less
effort. Our way led along the rushing creek, past
many cabins abandoned by prospectors, and at pres-
ent merely tenements of buried hopes and vanished
dreams set in a panorama of desolation and gloom
as the snow began to swirl through the gorge. At
five o’clock we decided that we would climb out of
the canyon and attempt to cut across the tundra
mountains in an effort to leave the accursed mire be-
hind. Baker’s horse severely injured himself in
climbing the canyon and as we came upon the tundra
several of the animals were limping badly.

The snow drove down upon us in clouds, but
weary men leading weary horses plunged ahead
into the storm, dragging our feet out of the mire.

— as ee

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 169

Darkness fell upon the mountains, but still we
plodded along, until eight miles from the canyon
we descended into the timber and made our way
down to the Duke River, which we forded at once.
The horses were nearly spent and the rest of us had
nearly reached our limit, but we continued eight
miles further through the darkness with solid foot-
ing and finally reached Morley Bones’ cabin at the
end of Lake Kluane. We have made thirty-five
miles to-day across the mountains and down the
rocky canyon, traveling most of the distance on foot,
and we are so entirely gone that we will not con-
tinue our journey until late in the morning.

September 16. It has snowed all night and the
storm still raged as we came out of Bones’ cabin
this morning and decided to make a start down the
trail along the shore of the Lake. It was ten o’clock
when we left the cabin and started south; the horses
are lame, but the footing along the gravel beaches
is solid, and there are no mountains to cross to-day.
We traveled very slowly, letting the animals take
their own time, and since the snow continued we
put up tent at four o’clock, having made twenty
miles, and turned out the horses to graze on some
very good grass.

September 17. Very cold and snowing as we
made our start this morning, but the north wind
drove off the storm and we made excellent progress
down the lake. As we went south the snow became

170 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

less in depth, until near the end of the lake there was
none whatever near the lake level, though the high
slopes of the mountains were heavily blanketed. In

the late afternoon the trail led upward along the

sides of the mountains that came down sharply to
the lake, and at five o’clock we came to Baker’s
cabin on the Slims River beyond the lower end of
the lake. Looking up the river are the snow peaks
at whose foot lies the Slims Glacier, near which we
hope to camp to-morrow night and begin our hunt
for goats. We will remain at Baker’s cabin, how-
ever, for the night as the horses are too played out
to travel farther and the horse feed on the near-by
meadows is excellent.

September 18. We left two of the horses on the .

meadows near Baker’s cabin, as they seem to have
been done up by the hard journey across the moun-
tains, and by turning them out for a few days’ rest
and grazing upon the meadow lands we have hopes
that they may get into better condition. ‘The trail
up the Slims River led along the glacial gravel beds
at the foot of the mountains on our right, while on
the left were the two-mile-wide flats of quicksands
through which course several branches of the Slims,
a glacial stream, rising about fifteen miles above
Lake Kluane in the ice fields that have torn a
way through the coast range mountains.

The trail was level for most of the distance int
the footing generally good until we came to the last

a

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 171

five miles of the course, where we led the horses up
a ravine of sharp bowlders and came out on a
plateau thickly covered with a dense growth of
willows. Baker had once cut a trail through the
willow thicket, but the trail was almost completely
overgrown, so we smashed our way through for two
miles and finally emerged on a hillside and passed
down into the timber, where we decided to camp.

The muddy glacial water of Kennedy Creek
flowed close to the place we had selected, the horse
feed on a hill close by was excellent, and the timber
provided shelter from the winds and a plentiful
supply of fuel for our fires, so that the camp seemed
a veritable find in contrast to our various willow-
patch camps in the snows we had left behind. As
we expected to remain here several days we went
through the neglected performance of putting up a
tent, cutting firewood, and making a real fireplace to
do our cooking.

Then we went to the edge of the timber to look
over the country. Opposite our camp the Slims
Glacier came out of the snow-capped range like an
immense icy tongue, with a considerable push
moraine piled up along its front and sides, while
across the ice fields the mighty snow wall of the
range shadowed lavender under the magic of the
setting sun. To the right of the glacier the bare
slopes of a low mountain were spotted white with
forty-two sheep feeding upward, while just above

172 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

our camp, four miles up Kennedy Creek, were the
rocky fronts of the goat range Baker had selected
as the paradise for these long-haired climbers of the
heights.

It was somewhat of a surprise to learn that goats
and sheep were to be found in such close proximity
to each other, as the range where we had located the
sheep was separated from the goat range by only the
narrow canyon on Kennedy Creek not one hundred
yards across; yet Baker informs me that he has for
years observed these different animals living as near
neighbors, but has never seen them ranging together.

Our fresh meat supply is entirely exhausted, and
as we plan to hunt goats to-morrow we have boiled
a supply of rice for our breakfast and supper, and
after our long days of hard travel coming out from
the St. Clair we once more gave ourselves up to the
enjoyment of sitting in front of a real camp fire and
planning our next day’s hunt.

ee eee

‘SHXOA MUAATIS HATI— LASNI
‘SNIVLNONOW SWIIS AO SHTOVNNId 7!

CHAPTER XI

“It’s the great, big, broad land ’way up yonder,
It’s the forests where silence has lease;
It’s the beauty that thrills me with wonder,
It’s the stillness that fills me with peace.”

September 19. Daylight found us rolling out of
our sleeping robes with a lively interest in the
weather conditions confronting us, and as the day
dawned clear, cold, and cloudless, with the mountain
tops unobscured by mists, sharply etched against
the heavens, we hastily dispatched our Chinese
coolie diet of rice and started up Kennedy Creek
gorge. Baker had predicted goats would be found
at the bottom of the canyon feeding on willows
where we would have some shooting without climb-
ing the rocky heights, but Baker was a poor prophet
in this respect as we hunted up the gorge three miles
without seeing game. A small canyon ran off at
right angles to Kennedy Creek Canyon, back into
the mountain a mile, and ended in an abrupt slope
which climbed toward the summit, and we decided to
go up this canyon and then take a look at the range
from a favorable vantage point.

We had hardly started along the sharp bowlder-

173

174 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

strewn course, when far up the gorge and almost at
its upper end we saw two goats climbing down one
side of the rocky wall. ‘The writer had never seen
a mountain goat before, and sat down on a rock to
study these animals through the glasses, for it was
difficult to believe that they were not polar bear, as
their long shaggy white coats, their immense bulk,
and their method of climbing were strongly sugges-
tive of the white bear; but the short ebony spike
horns and the long beards finally brought home the
conviction that these animals were really goats.
We watched them climb down the almost perpen-
dicular, but. jagged face of the canyon, and then with
apparent ease climb up the opposite wall, an under-
taking quite beyond our wildest fancy.

After they had disappeared over the rim, we con-
tinued our climb and reached the end of the canyon,
where began our ascent of the slope. Part way up,
where we had a clear view of the slope from the
rim over which the goats had disappeared, Wolcott,
who was in advance, located the two animals, but
with a fine sense of sportsmanship refrained from
shooting until the writer, following behind the
guides, should come up to participate. It was an
up-hill shot at three hundred yards with the game
moving away from us, but it seemed wise to take
the chance, as we had no opportunity whatever of
climbing around and heading the game; so I told
my hunting companion to name his goat and com-

\

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 175

mence firing, while I would reserve my fire at the
other goat until Wolcott had gotten off his first shot.
Wolcott’s shot was a miss but mine went home, and
the animal rolled over and over down the slope into
a gorge, while its companion vanished over a rocky
ridge.

We then climbed up the rocky slope, and Wolcott
attempted to follow the goat he had missed, travel-
ing along a rocky ledge with a perpendicular drop
below and a precipitous front above, while the
writer continued his climb up the mountain, and
half way up circled around the face of the slope for
a mile and a half. On topping one of the rock ribs
that led up to the crest, five goats were observed
below, resting on the edge of a jagged rock shelf,
and I studied them through the glasses and waited
for Wolcott, as two of the animals were excellent
specimens. As Wolcott failed to appear I sent the
guide back to look for him, but the guide returned,
reporting my companion was nowhere to be seen;
so I began to “smoke up” the game. I called it
“smoking up,” because my first three shots at two
hundred and fifty yards at the motionless animals
were miserable misses, but the fourth shot at the
jumping animals went through behind the shoulder
and the goat rolled over the edge, while the next
shot wounded the second animal in the body, after
which I ceased firing at the others and ran forward
to where my two goats had gone over.

176 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

The first was nowhere to be seen, and had prob-
ably rolled down thousands of feet; the wounded
one, in spite of being badly hit, had climbed down
two hundred yards of lava precipice, where the
writer could not possibly follow without a rope, so
I put an end to him with a shot from above and he
rolled down into the unknown. We sat down to
look at the country and try to fix in our minds the
place where my game had vanished, in order to get
them from below, and as we smoked our pipes we
located two more goats over a ridge that edged a
canyon half a mile away; but we did not disturb
these, deciding to reserve them for Wolcott, who
came up to us an hour later. He had followed the
goat along a narrow ledge for a mile, and the ledge
came to an abrupt ending, and the goat had disap-
peared. Wolcott could not go forward, and after
several attempts found he could neither climb up
nor down the rocky face, so he retraced his steps
and, looking very weary and dripping with perspir-
ation, came to us.

We told him of the two goats we nad reserved
for him, but they had vanished over the ridge into
the canyon, so with Hayden he started to the sum-
mit, in order to climb around the end of the canyon,
while Baker and myself were to go after my game
and skin out the heads. We started down the steep
slope, and had gone about two hundred feet when
we found a sheer drop into space which interested

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 177

us not at all, so we climbed up the slope, and de-
cided that in order to get down we would have to
climb a thousand feet higher, cross over the head of
a draw, and come down the canyon. When we
started down, the slide rock went out from under us,
but we kept our feet, and simply permitted ourselves
to be carried along with the moving rock stream
until the slide and its passengers ceased to go for-
ward. After making our way down to the tundra
bench, we looked back at the course we had taken
and held a private thanksgiving upon our success-
ful descent, with a strong ‘‘ never again’ resolution
such as one makes about January first.

From the tundra bench the face of the mountain
bore no resemblance whatever to the topography
we had carefully fixed in our minds for the purpose
of locating our dead game, and looking up from be-
low we utterly failed to locate the place where the
game had rolled over. Numerous canyons paral-
leling each other like immense stalls ran back into
the mountain, the ends of the stalls being closed by
the rocky wall that rose up thousands of feet to a
shelf, then more of rocky slope, another shelf, and
finally the serrated pinnacles cutting the sky. Some-
where in one of these canyons were the remains of
those goats, but to locate them was not quite so
easy as might appear, for we climbed up and down
canyon walls for two hours before reaching the first
goat, which had rolled all the way from the pin-

178 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

nacles to within a hundred feet of our level before
he had lodged in the rock. His bones were broken,
but his horns were intact, and he had been killed by
the shot and not by his fearful descent.

His horns were eight inches long and the annular
rings seven in number, while his beard and coat
were in excellent pillage. After skinning him and
taking his head, we climbed to the next canyon where
the second dead goat lay, but just above him on
the slope sat a very large and very live goat. I
looked him over with my glasses, and the longer I
observed him the larger he looked, until temptation
was too strong and it was decided to add him to the
collection. A short stalk brought me to within two
hundred and fifty yards’ range and, taking a rest,
one shot plunged through the animal’s heart, and
stone dead he rolled past us and lodged a thousand
feet below.

One gets the habit of using the binoculars upon
the landscape, even when he has finished the day’s
shooting, and after shooting this goat I beheld a
tiny white speck against the blue on the sky line at
the very top of the rock pinnacles of the distant
summit. As I continued to look at the white
climber of the heights, he seemed to exert a hypnotic
influence upon me, and I announced to Baker that
while I had finished my shooting I had not concluded
the hunting, but intended to break the newly formed
“never again’’ resolve by climbing for that goat

~~ a

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON _ 179

with my camera. Baker said I could never climb
within photographic distance of the animal as he
would become alarmed and make off, but I had the
notion that the other side of the pinnacle was a
smooth precipice, down which even a goat could not
descend, and he could only come down towards me
and escape to one side, and that he could not accom-
plish if I should succeed in coming as close as one
thousand feet.

Leaving my untasted lunch, gun, cartridges, and
everything of weight wedged in the rocks and with
only camera on my back, I started to climb, using
hands and feet to equal advantage on the lava cliffs
and making progress at such a slow rate that the
goat evidently felt pity rather than alarm, as he
continued to enjoy the air of the rare altitudes and
observe my climbing. Sometimes the course I was
obliged to adopt led across loose rock slides, across
which I made considerable speed in order not to be
carried down to the bottom of the canyon before
making the traverse, and this is rather good sport if
carried out successfully. Finally I reached an alti-
tude thousands of feet up and about one thousand
below the goat, whose picture I was then certain
would hang in my animal gallery; but those last
thousand feet were a heart-breaking climb, as I was
attempting the ascent of a concave bowl, the steep
sides of which were unhealthy rock slides up which
I zigzagged, running a hundred feet at an upward

180 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

slant to reach a resting place of some welcome patch
of large bowlders that did not start down the moun-
tain under one’s feet.

Two hundred feet from the sky line I reached the
solid rock face of the pinnacles from which the
slopes of slide rock had fallen through the ages, and
began the final stalk. On my way up, the conviction
had been growing that anywhere a four-footed goat
could go, a two-legged, two-handed man could fol-
low, but my theory was utterly shattered on that
cliff, as the very best I could do was to reach a point
fifty feet below my photographic subject, where I
succeeded in wedging my feet into a kindly disposed
crevasse, and where without disturbing a nice bal-
ance I managed to unsling the camera case from my
shoulders and set the apparatus for a proper focus.

The goat was not an old one nor remarkably
large, but he made a wonderful spot of white life
as he posed upon the sky line against the infinity of
blue and gazed upon me with a benevolent interest.
However, the front view did not please me, and as
I could not shift my position it became necessary to
induce the goat to change his to a desirable profile,
and this was a bit difficult since the writer is not
familiar with the goat language. Several methods
were tried out: shouting produced no evident un-
easiness, singing was met with a look of deep
- disgust from my heavily whiskered friend, but re-
membering ‘“ music hath its charms,” I began to

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CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON _ 181

whistle an ancient tune, ‘‘ Pull for the shore, Sailor,”
_ and under the spell of the melodious tune, or pos-
sibly to take a look about to locate “‘ the shore,’ my
goat deliberately gave me a profile pose and I has-
tily exposed the film.

However, I had not made that climb for merely
a single view, and I continued to whistle to the goat
in an effort to lure him down from his rocky perch,
but without avail. It is a good motto from the
graduate school of experience that ‘‘ where persua-
sion fails, coercion seldom succeeds,” but possibly
the mountain goat is an exception, for I found out
that by breaking off pieces of rock from the cliff to
which I clung with one hand for balance and hurling
them at the ridge just behind the animal he became
considerably annoyed and came down the pinnacle
twenty-five feet below the sky line, where he stood
for a becoming side view, and then before going
back to the crest he turned to look at me for a third
picture. As I was about to begin my descent he
posed again upon the knife-blade ridge, looking like
an ancient white-robed Magi priest; superior, aloof,
impersonal, with his face to the declining sun,
calmly gazing along the golden-rayed path.

The descent proved to be considerably more diff-
cult than the ascent, chiefly for the reason that part
of the way, clinging with my face to the cliff and
backed by space merely, it became necessary to feel
the way downward with my toes seeking a secure

182 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

footing lower down, before releasing finger hold on
the rocks for a new grasp. On the rock slides
travel was rapid, as I merely devoted my attention
to keeping footing as the sliding mass bore me along,
but particular attention was given to the little detail
of getting out of the slide before it went over a
sheer drop. The smooth slopes of finely powdered
lava frozen hard and covered with snow, through
which the boot calks did not bite into the footing,
gave considerable difficulty, and several times my
feet went out from under me and I started to slide,
but good luck was my guardian and success crowned
my rather desperate efforts to check the descent,
with only a few bruises. |

On reaching Baker, I found he had taken off the
heads and hides of all the goats, and we began to
measure the two heads he had finished dressing; one
of them had horns eight and one-half inches long,
while the last goat gave us a horn length of nine
inches, both showing seven years of age. ‘The
serio-comic appearance of these woolly creatures is
somewhat heightened by the pantaloon effect of the
legs, as the thick fur comes down the leg and then
stops about ten inches above the foot; this is due
to the animal having worn off the long wool about
the lower leg from walking in the rocks, giving the
appearance of trousers pulled up ten inches above
the hoof.

It may be interesting to the uninitiated to learn

a et ee -
ae a

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON 183

that these mountain goats have a very long, thick
under-coat of white wool, while the domestic goat
has only a hairy coat; but, on the other hand, the
domestic sheep has a coat of wool, while the white
mountain sheep has no wool whatever, its pellage
consisting of rather coarse hair of a maximum win-
ter length of three inches.

Baker had filled a canvas bag with goat fat and
goat meat, the latter being for our frypan, so we
loaded ourselves with camera, rifle, heads, hides,
and meat, and with arms full of plunder and with
various things strapped to our backs began to work
our way downward, sometimes falling on the rocks,
sometimes sliding a short distance, but with no bad
results except minor bruises. We began to feel that
the bottom of the canyon was quite near when we
saw Wolcott and Hayden, as mere fly specks, wait-
ing for us as they sat on the bowlders and enjoyed
our weird descent.

As we walked down the canyon, following the
creek to our camp, Wolcott told me that after leav-
ing us Hayden and himself had climbed to the upper
end of the canyon into which the two goats had
vanished and had located the game, climbing the
walls on the other side four hundred yards away.
Since it was impossible to get a closer range, he had
begun shooting and after several wide shots finally
killed the goat, to reach which presented difficult
problems of descent. Wolcott finally selected a

184 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

smooth incline covered with snow, and at the start
his feet went out from under him and he began to
slide; not able to check his speed, he managed
to flop over with his face to the incline, and then,
by using toes, knees, elbows, and fingers as points of
contact, succeeded in stopping the downward plunge,
but not a moment too soon, as the slope ended in
an abrupt drop of immense height to the jagged
rocks below. It was a close call and my companion,
considerably shaken by the experience and the close
view of the precipice, made his way to the rock foot-
ing and finally reached the goat in the canyon; after
skinning which, he came to the conclusion that he
had enough goat hunting to last some time. Wol-
cott’s goat had a horn length of seven and one-half
inches with six annular rings and long whiskers and
excellent pellage.

For supper we dined upon rice and fried goat’s
meat, which was almost as tough and unpalatable as
grizzly bear, so we filled up mostly on rice and tea,
and then lying in front of the fire held a council to
consider our plans for next day. Since our boots
are nearly gone, and our calks torn out of the soles,
and we are knee-sprung, bruised, and sore from the
day’s experience on the mountains, we decided in
view of the fact that we had all the goats we desired
that to-morrow would find us on the trail back to
Kluane Lake.

September 20. We were up early this morning

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON _ 185

and devoted several hours to fleshing and cleaning
the goat trophies, after which we packed up and
started back. Part of the distance we walked and
gave the guides a chance to ride, as we only had two
saddle horses, and the guides were quite as sore and
weary as ourselves from yesterday’s work. ‘Three
o'clock found us back at Baker’s cabin on the Slims
River, where we spent the night after a supper of
rice, bread, tea, and scrambled goat brains, which
were rather palatable since they were not tough.

September 21. Taking but two of the horses,
Bullion and Jim, and leaving the other animals to
graze on the meadows until the rest of our party
should come along for them, we made our way
across the mud flats and came to the half-mile-wide
Slims River, where there is a skiff on either bank
for ferrying across. Loading the boat with our
outfit, Baker and Hayden started to row across and
soon found the craft spurting water through the
open seams; they rowed hard and the boat went
lower into the water, until it sank on a sand bar on
the other shore, where they saved everything, but
all the stuff was wet. Baker returned with the less
leaky boat, and the writer sat in the stern with a
long rope around the neck of the horse ‘‘ Bullion”
for the purpose of towing him, so as to avoid quick-
sands. ‘“‘ Bullion,” however, was not minded to
follow, and before we landed him on the bank he
nearly committed suicide in the quicksands.

186 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

On opening my case of exposed films my heart
sank as I beheld the case full of water, and while
Baker returned for Wolcott and the other horse the
writer took out the water-soaked film packs and
placed them in the sun to dry out somewhat; it looks
as if they were all utterly ruined, which is a great
loss as the photographic record is quite complete.
(On reaching civilization it was found that, while
some of the pictures were utterly ruined and others
damaged, a considerable number were in no way
harmed. )

After packing our water-soaked outfit on the
horses, we all walked along the shore of Lake Klu-
ane and came to the end of the horse trail and the
beginning of the wagon road, where we put together
Hayden’s buckboard and got out some grub we had ~
cached on our way in and made ready for our start
the next morning for Whitehorse. Baker received
word his wife was ill, so we regretfully parted from
this ever-genial, kindly man, who had worked with
us on the long trail.

September 22. Six o'clock found us rolling up
the slopes of Boutelier summit and with a stop for
lunch at Jarvis Creek, we passed over Bear Creek
summit as darkness and snow began to fall, and
reached the foot of the mountain at seven o'clock,
where we found a cabin open to occupancy. Near
by was a band of Indians whose camp the writer be-
gan to investigate, which resulted in the discovery

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON _ 187

of a year-old moose the Indians had hung up about
five days before. Since we had no fresh meat the
writer gave the Indians a package of tea and a
check upon a bank at Whitehorse, and in return re-
ceived a candle, some fat for frying purposes, and
a hindquarter of moose.

I had a most amusing time explaining to the sav-
ages that the bank check was money and that Shorty
Chambers the trader would take the paper and give
them in exchange real money or provisions of equal
value. One old fellow who had been listening to
my explanation for some time finally began to see
daylight and said: “ White man no carry money;
all same make him money any time write him in
book — good.” Returning to our shack laden with
the hindquarter of moose, a candle for light, and
grease for cooking, Hayden and Wolcott began to
grin and comment upon my abilities as a trader who
could go out with a stock in trade of one-half
pound package of tea and return staggering under
a load of plunder, but Wolcott does not know about
that check, though he is suspicious. However, we
fried an immense pile of tender moose steaks and in
the warmth of the cabin sat down to a very ample
supper, while outside the wind howled and the hail
and snow combined to make a disagreeable night in
the open.

September 23. This has been a gloomy, gray,
cold day, but the horses have made excellent time

188 CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON

over the bottom lands of the Dezadeash River and
at six o'clock we camped thirty-seven miles ahead
near some Indians who had been into the range
shooting sheep and goats, whose meat was hanging
up being smoked for winter.

September 24. After an early start in the cold,
gray morning, by hard driving we reached the trad-
ing post of Shorty Chambers at Champagne Land-
ing, where we decided to rest the horses for a couple
of hours while we dined with Chambers at his im-
maculate cabin, presided over by his very kind and
wholesome-looking Indian wife.

Within the last two years a number of the Yukon
traders have gone into the business of raising black,
silver and cross foxes, which some have carried
on with considerable success, among whom was
Chambers. We inspected his large log corral in
which were a number of these valuable silver foxes,
and took several photographs of the animals which,
alive, are worth four thousand to ten thousand dol-
lars per pair. The animals are caught in their dens
in the early spring when still small and are then sold
by the Indian trappers to the men who are engaged
in fox raising; many of the fox pups die from a dis-
ease closely resembling distemper of the dog, but
larger experience will doubtless overcome this draw-
back.

After dinner we said farewells to Chambers and
continued eastward, stopping twice to shoot prairie

CAMP FIRES IN THE YUKON _ 189

chickens, and at dark with the snow falling heavily
on the valley we came to a wayside cabin belonging
to Chambers, where we cooked supper and spent
the night.

September 25. The weather cleared, but the
wind blew cold as we circled about the hills along
the Dawson stage trail, steadily putting mile after
mile behind us until at nightfall we reached the
automatic, current-driven ferry at the Tahkini
River, where we decided to remain for the night as
one of the horses had gone lame and we wished not
to drive him farther without a rest.

September 26. Five o’clock found us rolling
along on the last stage of our journey and the morn-
ing broke into joyous radiance as the sun came over
the snow crests of the mountains along the Yukon
River, twenty-two miles away; yet there was nothing
of cheerfulness as we drove ahead along the sunlit
wagon road with the oppressive realization that be-
hind us lay the God-given mighty wilderness of maj-
esty, freedom and peace, while each succeeding mile
brought us nearer to the man-made, rattle, constric-
tions, and pettiness of a complex civilization. In
sullen silence we topped the last pine-clad hill and
rolled down the slope to the affronting railway and
telegraph station; our long trail in the Yukon had
come to an end.

APPENDIX

OBSERVATIONS ON THE FAUNA OF THE
EASTERN PORTION OF THE
ST. ELIAS RANGE

The narrative contained in the preceding pages has
sought to set forth, among other matters, a correct and ac-
curate record of the writer’s observations of animal life in
that part of the Yukon Territory covered by my expedition;
that the record is not complete is a matter of regret, but
obviously the time spent in this region was all too short
for exhaustive and conclusive observation. The writer has
only attempted to chronicle his observations of the creatures
of the wild in the connection of hunting them, and to this
phase he deems it advisable and possibly of interest, at least
to the naturalist, to add his further observations, and also
to set forth some facts gained from several of his guides,
who have lived near and hunted in this region for years,
whose observations of the fauna have not only covered a
very considerable period, but have been made with a keen
and intelligent interest and desire to know the habits of ani-
mals of this locality. The facts gained from these sources
the writer regards as reliable and particularly valuable for
the extension of knowledge of animal life.

It should be remembered that these observations are con-
fined to animal life in the St. Elias Range above the Generc

190

APPENDIX: 1gt

River, and the St. Clair, which are tributaries of the White
River; and the Wolverine and Donjeck rivers, as well as
along the mountains walling the west shore of Lake Kluane
and the Slims River. Other conditions may obtain in other
parts of the wide extended Yukon Territory where geo-
graphical, topographical, climatic, and food conditions vary,
and produce varying faunal types and habits of life.

SHEEP

Of the habits of mountain sheep found north of the well-
defined range of the Ovis Canadensis, known as the “‘ Rocky
Mountain” sheep, nothing additional can be predicated by
the writer, since all of the northern sheep, whether the all-
white Dall sheep, the Fannin sheep with white heads, necks
and breast and gray body, or the Stone sheep of a more uni-
form dark gray color above with only the abdomen and lower
and posterior parts white, have practically the same habits.

- All of these sheep are by nature very wild and timid;
dwelling above timber line, eating the same food, having the
same general environment and climatic conditions, not only is
there scarcely any variation in their habits, but even their
size, weight, and measurement are substantially the same,
having due regard to age and sex.

The sheep observed and referred to by the writer on this
expedition are all the pure white Dall sheep, Ovis dalli, as
not a single specimen of Fannin sheep nor even the Stone
sheep was seen, and the guides and Indians frequenting the
game ranges of the St. Elias mountains over a wider extent
than that covered by my expedition report, without excep-
tion, only the white Dall sheep.

These sheep were first classified and their discovery, as

192 APPENDIX

a distinct species of the sheep family, first determined by Mr.
E. W. Nelson of the United States National Museum and
by Mr. Nelson, in 1883, were named Dall’s sheep in honor
of Mr. W. H. Dall. Since then they have been frequently
observed and studied by various naturalists, but it is chiefly
to the keen, patient, and persistent observation and studies
of Mr. Charles Sheldon over a very considerable period that
we are so greatly indebted for the enrichment and fullness
of our knowledge concerning the different species of north-
ern sheep.

In his original description of Dall’s sheep in Volume VII,
pages 12, 13, 1884, of ‘‘ Proceedings of United States
National Museum,” Mr. Nelson states: ‘‘ This form can
be recognized at once by its nearly uniform dirty white
color. . . . 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.” Mr.
Charles Sheldon, preéminently an authority on northern
sheep, speaks of this “ dinginess” as being not a true pig-
mentation, but due simply to the sheep’s pellage being dis-
colored in summer time from contact with the soil and dirt
on the mountains. Mr. Sheldon frequently speaks of the
Dall as “stained white sheep,” and their summer pellage as
being “badly stained,” while their winter pellage is pure
white.

Without any intention of even suggesting that the Dall
sheep observed and reported by Mr. Nelson and Mr. Shel-
don had other than dingy white summer pellage, since both
these scientists are accurate in their observations and have

APPENDIX 193

correctly reported what they have seen, the writer believes
that neither of the naturalists mentioned have visited the
sheep ranges covered by the writer, and it may, therefore,
be scientifically interesting to chronicle the fact that, of all
the sheep examined by the writer and his party over con-
siderable extent of territory, in the months of August and
September, mot one sheep was observed that had a stained
or dingy coat; in fact, all the sheep were a pure white with
unstained immaculate pellage. Nor does the writer mean to
suggest that the sheep seen by him are a different variety or
species from the Dall sheep, as he believes they are a true
Dall type, but with none of the dinginess observed by Mr.
Nelson and Mr. Sheldon.

Why this should be is purely speculative, though the rea-
son may possibly be found in the fact that even in sum-
mer the crests of the mountains visited by the writer are cov-
ered with snow and hence the sheep which rest on the heights
do not have an opportunity to become stained; and yet this
snow presence is not invariably existent, as there are many
of the lower mountains inhabited by sheep that were not
covered with snow, yet the pellage remained pure white.
So immaculate is the pellage of these sheep, even in summer,
that where stalking them against the snow background, even
with ten-power binoculars and at close range, it is very dif_f-
cult to pick them out, so closely do they match the white
background. Nor did any of the sheep observed have spor-
adic gray or dark hairs as reported by various observers of
Dall sheep in other ranges.

The horns of the sheep observed by the writer and his
party were invariably of the diverging type, by which is
meant that in their curl, the horns spread out from the head

194 - APPENDIX

instead of being closely curled beside the head, the tip of
the horn marking the greatest point of divergence or spread.
A comparison of the spread of the sheep killed by our party,
with the spread of sheep killed by Mr. Sheldon in the Ogil-
vie Rockies and the Pelly Mountains, will show the consid-
erable spread of the sheep horns in the locality visited by our
expedition, thus:

Hoyt’s ram killed August zoth, 1914:

Number of age rings on horn...........--ee0ee- 7

Length of outside of horn........+++..eceeeeces 36 inches
Spread from ‘tip 6) tip. s5))ss)en'ss becek uae aoe 27 ~+inches
Circumiferencée at bteei). 35 6socaecs sa eaawee es 14 inches

Auer’s ram — killed September rst, 1914:

Number of age rings on horn.............eeeee 8

Length of outside curve on horn................ 34 + inches
Spread from tig: 80. Misi. a4 owe he cue nae ens 23 ~+inches
Circumferente at 'Dase sii ue hes cae ch py asad caelen 14 inches

Auer’s ram — September 2nd, 1914:

Number of age rings on horn..............e00. 8

Outside length of ‘horn... sssedavan deweenbens 37 ‘+inches
Spread from tip to tip........... ee PA Ne 24 inches
Circumference of horn at base...............2+- 15 inches

Auer’s 2nd ram on September 2nd, 1914:

Number of age rings on horn...-...........00005 8
Outside: "‘Tength of horn... ce ee ecaaeamene 38 inches
Spread frog. Gp 0 tps v.06 oie sees ean 25 inches
Circumference of horn at base................ 151% inches
Hoyt’s ram — killed September 2nd, 1914:
Number of) 826) Vinge iss Lak oe Seine ewes 8.
Outside: length of ‘hort. :.oi543 vs xa eww esle'e Meeks 36 inches
Soread: fram NGS 20. BBG ext closes ekevne 27 inches
Circumference of horn at base................. 15 inches

The foregoing observations hold as to the heads brought
in by other members of my party and to rams that we ob-

APPENDIX 195

served, but did not shoot; all had the diverging type of horns
instead of the closely curled type; although naturally there
Was some variation in spread, yet the type remained con-
stant.

The sheep of this region have horns of amber color, with
the annular rings, showing age, well defined and beautifully
marked; the crown or outer rim of the curve is a darker
amber approaching the brown and is deeply fluted, corru-
gated, and modeled at its outer edges.

A regular migration from a fixed range or habitat is
practically unknown among these sheep, except that I am
advised, in winter, when the snows on the St. Elias Range
become too deep, the sheep, in order to get food, travel thirty-
five to forty miles to the east where upon the lower slopes
of the mountains bordering Harris Creek they can dig
through the lesser depth of snow for food.. There is also
some migration from regular ranges to a “ sheep lick,” which
is a salt deposit. ‘The writer observed a sheep lick on the
mountain side bordering Wolverine River, where the sheep
were taking the “ saline cure”’; the sheep trail leading to the
lick was plainly marked along the crest of the mountains for
many miles and sheep were almost constantly observed com-
ing to and returning from the lick.

As before observed, excepting the mating season the
rams are not found with the ewes and lambs, but the rams
herd by themselves usually in bands of six to twenty, and
in those bands all the rams will be found to be about the
same age. Occasionally a single ram is found alone and
separated from a band; in such case it almost invariably
turns out he is either an unsociable and crusty patriarch,
the last of his race and period, “ all his lovely companions ”

196 APPENDIX

of similar age being “‘ faded and gone,” or he is a sentinel
ram doing scout duty on the flanks for a bunch of other
rams,

The natural enemies of the sheep are the wolf, lynx,
eagle, and grizzly bear; the eagle preys only upon lambs up
to three months of age, after which they are safe from the
eagles. The wolf preys only upon sheep where he catches
them low down on the hills where the country is smooth,
or in low sheep pastures between the mountains, or when
crossing’ the bars of a stream separating two paralleling
ranges. ‘The writer watched a band of six rams crossing
such a glacial bar on the St. Clair from one range to an-
other and a very cautious undertaking it was. After reach-
ing the edge of the tundra three hundred feet above the
bottom gravel bed, the rams scouted up and down for a mile
along the edge, looking down for enemies. After doing this
lookout duty for over an hour, they made a rapid descent to
the bottom and at full speed crossed the gravel bars and
started up the mountain at the other side.

The writer has assumed to state that the grizzly preys
upon sheep; in so stating he realizes that other naturalists
deny this fact, nor can the writer vouch for it upon his own
experience. However, Mr. Dixon, one of the writer’s
guides, who has hunted in this range for years, and Albert
the Indian, who has been accustomed to getting his winter
supply of meat from this locality, both report the fact of
grizzlies early in October, when the sheep are driven by the
deep snows to come for feed low down in the canyons,
lying in wait for the sheep and killing them in the canyons.
Bruce Fisher, our cook, who for a year was with the Inter-
national Boundary Survey, reports an interesting hunt in

— eee

APPENDIX 197

which two grizzlies circled above two sheep low down on
a mountain just above a glacier; the bears drove the sheep
upon the glacier, where they fell in a ten-feet deep crevasse
and where the bears killed them. ‘The writer deems these
reports as coming from sufficiently credible and reliable
sources to establish the fact.

Since the sheep only come down to the lower slopes for
feeding in the morning or early in the afternoon and at
all other times are found high up among the pinnacles and
snow crests, where they sleep and rest in safety, it follows
that they are only sought by wolves or other predatory ani-
mals in the daytime; as soon as the sheep reaches the pre-
cipitous rock slopes, he can easily outrun a wolf or bear;
and, as he rests on the crests of the mountains, his phe-
nomenal sense of smell is ample to warn him of the presence
of any animal.

CARIBOU

Yukon Territory teems with both the Barren Ground
caribou, Rangifer arcticus, and the Woodland caribou,
Rangifer osborni, the latter being the larger and more beau-
tiful, with very dark gray, almost black bodies and beautiful
white manes about the neck. The horns of the osborni
caribou are also longer and broader of beam than the barren
ground or arctic variety; it is only the osborni type that was
observed by the writer.

The osborni is not found in large herds, the largest of
several hundred herds observed by the writer containing only
sixty-eight animals; unlike the Barren Ground variety they
do not range over a wide extent of territory, but their range
is probably limited to one hundred miles, Unlike the

198 APPENDIX

moose, the female osborni caribou has horns, though they
are much smaller than those in the male of the species. At
all times, except the rutting season, which is early in Sep-
tember, the older bulls are found apart from the females,
but in September the bulls fight for the leadership of a herd
composed of a number of cows, calves, and yearling bulls.

The caribou are invariably found above timber line, upon
the high tundra-covered mountains, never coming down be-
low the altitude of the low scrub willow bushes upon which
they feed, unless to cross some river bottom between two
mountain ranges. In summer the writer has observed them
far into the heart of the St. Elias range along the glaciers,
and has frequently seen them upon the snow fields and
crests of the higher mountains, usually frequented only by
sheep. When the winter snows begin to deepen they move
out in separate herds to the lower tundra mountains, where
they can paw through the snow for the underlying white
moss, which is their only winter diet.

These animals are exceedingly timid, but their timidity
seems to be actuated through their sense of smell rather than
through sight or hearing; mere noise and rifle shots disturb
them but little, as the writer, unseen by them, fired his
rifle frequently at range of one hundred yards, without even
disturbing the feeding animals, but rifle shot combined with
sight of hunter usually causes a mild stampede in the oppo-
site direction. On the other hand, mere sight of the hun-
ter instead of arousing fear seems at times to beget a
friendly curiosity. It has often happened that these animals
have observed the writer traveling sometimes on foot, some-
times on horse, and the caribou have approached quite close,
circling about and trying to get to the windward. But

APPENDIX 199

once the caribou has gotten the wind of the hunter, no mat-
ter what his previous curiosity and friendliness, he imme-
diately stampedes in a rapid, distance-consuming race for
new fields. The calves and isolated cows and young bulls
are preyed upon somewhat by wolves, but the herded caribou
are exempt from attack. Even the lordly moose will usually
avoid battle with a bull caribou, which offsets its lesser bulk
with sharper horns, and where bull caribou and bull moose
fight, as occasionlly happens, the moose is very glad to re-
tire second best. ‘The fur of the caribou is much used by the
natives for sleeping robes, moccasins, and clothing, while the
flesh is only a shade less edible than mountain sheep, the
most delicious of all meats. :

MOOSE

The Yukon moose is darker in color and bulks larger in
weight as well as in size of horns than the moose of East-
ern Canada; his habits are similar in most respects to his
brethren of Ontario, Quebec, and New Brunswick. Like
them he feeds principally on willows, though he also eats
some grass when he can find it. In the summer he de-
lights to frequent the low valleys, where he feeds on roots
and aquatic plants found in the rivers and lakes. In Oc-
tober they leave the low country and go far up the draws
leading into the mountains; in hunting the caribou far above
timber line upon the high tundra mountains, I have come
across many moose antlers upon the tundra, and since the
moose shed their horns from the middle of December to the
middle of January, the presence of these horns indicates that
at this season of the year they frequent the tundra moun-
tains, where, I am informed, they dig through the snow

200 * APPENDIX

like the caribou for the moss that ever grows upon the
tundra.

Their rut begins in September, when their horns are out
of the velvet covering, and ends about October first. Dur-
ing the rutting season the bulls are very wary and cautious
and their scent phenomenal, but they are also extremely
curious and are easily hunted, coming to the call of a birch-
bark horn, or the scraping of a bone on a tree after the
manner of a rival moose scraping his horns. ‘They are less
easily hunted by stalking, as during rutting season their
sense of hearing and smell is unusually keen and one who
attempts to stalk a moose matches wits with an animal
that is apt to demonstrate his instincts as superior to hun-
ter’s craft.

Except during rutting season moose renounce the society
of cows and live in solitude, except that a few bulls are
frequently found feeding together, after which their ways
usually diverge. In the country visited by the writer, moose
are prolific on the wooded benches on both sides of the St.
Clair River, in the Harris River Valley, the Wolverine Val-
ley, and along the timbered slopes of the mountains along
the Donjeck River.

BEARS

The grizzly bear, ursus horribilis, is found scattered over
the entire Yukon Territory, having its habitat far above
timber line among the mountains and, in the region visited
by the writer, particularly the mountains at the head of the
Slims, the Donjeck, St. Clair, the Count, and the Wolverine,
the grizzly is fairly prolific as bears go, though they are
never found anywhere in great numbers; numerous tracks,

a or re

APPENDIX 201

diggings, and other evidence bespeak their presence, but, as
an Indian once said to me, “ A bear is very hard to see.”
The silver-tipped variety is very prevalent in the country
we covered, and all the grizzlies killed on this expedition
were of the beautiful, silver-tipped type.

These bears, wherever found, in spite of the stories told
from time to time, are generally very wary and timid and
flee in craven fear at the sight of man; the exceptions to the
rule are found when the bear is with cubs, or is cornered
and wounded, and in either of which situations it is a dan-
gerous quarry, as it then loses all fear and becomes obsessed
with a towering rage; its vitality is tremendous and it will
carry an immense amount of lead and still push the fighting;
and in addition it strikes a blow with its paw more powerful
than that of a lion.

By reason of its wariness and timidity it is almost hope-
less to stalk a bear, merely by tracking it, unless you know
where it is at the time, for a bear is a distance traveler and
you may follow a trail for days without seeing the quarry.
- The method most apt to be productive of results is to bait
the animal by leaving a dead sheep or caribou carcass near
a locality where bear signs have been recently observed.
The carcass should be some distance from your camp, at
least three or more miles away, and should be visited every
second day; once the bait is found by the bear, the animal
will seldom leave the food supply, but will spend days alter-
nately eating and sleeping until the carcass is entirely con-
sumed. All other methods of bear hunting seem to the
writer to be haphazard and most likely to fail.

The grizzly eats ground squirrels which, with much labor,
he digs out of their burrows in the slopes in the mountains,

202 APPENDIX:

tearing up the soil with his long claws; mice found along
the banks of the rivers, salmon, which he catches in the
streams, and carcasses of animals complete his meat diet.
In season he also eats willow leaves, berries, and pea-vine
root, which tastes like parsnips but is too woody and fibrous
for a man to eat. ‘The bear hibernates in October in this
region and comes out from winter quarters the last of May
or early in June, according to the melting of the snows.
The cubs are born sometime during the hibernation period,
though just when is not known, as there has been little
or no reliable observation on this phase of bear life. ‘The
female has one to three cubs that remain with the mother
for about two years.

Among the interesting “ bear stories ” of this region is the
reported presence of “ blue bears,” also known as the “ gla-
cier bear,” and said to be found along the glaciers at the
head of the Donjeck, the St. Clair, and the Generc, and
also along Russell Glacier. Dixon the guide, Albert the
Indian, and Fisher the cook are positive in their statements
of having seen these “blue bears” several times on the
glaciers, and describe them as being a “ real grayish blue, so
that against the blue glacial ice you can hardly see them,
as they don’t stand out at all.” They are: reported to be
as large as a medium-size grizzly and are always seen on
the glacier or close to its edge. ‘The Duke of Abruzzi, in
making the traverse of the glacier on the expedition, when

he climbed Mt. St. Elias, killed several blue bears of this

description and it may be that this is the same bear, a va-
riety of the grizzly species, with a different color phase due
to the glacial environment. ‘The writer regrets he was un-
able to give a week’s time to baiting one of the glaciers in

APPENDIX: 203

hope of discovering one of these bears and of completely
verifying the reports of them. "Two of the members of
my party, in exploring a part of the country adjacent to
the Generc Glacier, discovered a fox pen and remains of a
camp, where, in the spring of the year, two natives had
made their headquarters while they engaged in the enter-
prise of capturing live cross and silver fox pups. “These
two members of my party also found about the deserted
camp two ruined and worthless bear skins much eaten by
rabbits and rotted by weather, but the color of such fur as
remained was a slate blue. In view of the reports of the
blue bears and the ruined, slate-blue skins found by mem-
bers of my own expedition, I trust the next expedition to
this region may take the time and effort necessary to a
complete investigation of the matter, as it would be par-
ticularly desirable to examine, study, and classify these re-
ported bears.

“MOUNTAIN GOATS

The only place in the territory covered where we found
mountain goats was at the head of the Slims River, in the
mountains bordering the Glacier. Their location at this
point is rather remarkable to the writer, as it is about one
hundred miles from the Pacific coast as the crow flies, and
goats, with this exception only, as far as the writer is able
to ascertain, are found exclusively in the humid belt of the
mountains along the Pacific coast and never across the St.
Elias. Range on the easterly slopes; yet there they were at
the head of the Slims River in large numbers. ‘The writer
also talked with a band of Indians who had a number of goat
skins which they claimed to have taken along the mountains

204 APPENDIX

beside the Kaskawulsh River near its inflow into the De-
zadeash and Alsek rivers; this would mark the goat ranges
far east of their supposed habitat.

At the headwaters of the Slims it was interesting to note
the close proximity of goat and sheep ranges. Kennedy
Creek Canyon, one hundred. yards wide, was the narrow
boundary line between sheep and goats; the mountains ris-
ing abruptly from one side of the canyon held sheep, those
on the other side held goats, yet they do not range to-
gether. Ordinarily they are found low down on the in-
ferior crests of minor escarpments and often in the very bot-
toms of the canyons, where they come to feed on willows;
but at the time of our visitation they were high upon the
serrated pinnacles. They are rather stupid animals, not
nearly as wary and hence not so difficult to hunt as sheep.

OTHER MAMMALS

The wolf is prevalent in the region visited, though like
the bear he “is hard to see,” but his tracks are numerous
on the sandbars, indicating his presence. ‘These wolves are
quite large, are black, white, gray and mixed black and
white color. They feed upon rabbits, mice, and caribou and
moose calves, with an occasional sheep; their habits are
those of the timber wolves of other localities. Red foxes,
silver foxes with cross, and black foxes are found in unusual
numbers in this region, and with mink, otter, lynx, and
ermine complete the quota of fur-bearing animals. Ground
squirrels, called by the guides “ gophers,” but being quite
different from the true gopher, are very abundant and fur-
nish food for both the Indian native and for the grizzly
bears.

— — ge =,

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LEGEND

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Da AES HAGCE IOER 5 oes oic'w ows bps wa Net $1.50

Popular Ornithology

The Birds of North America
Edited by Jacob H. Studer.

Upwards of seven hundred different species and varie-
ties comprising all that are known to exist on this Con-
tinent, on One Hundred and Nineteen Crayon Plates
artistically drawn and colored from Nature by Theodore
Jasper, A. M., M.D., including a popular account of their
habits and characteristics based on standard authorities
and the most eminent writers on Ornithology of the day.

Edited by Jacob H. Studer. Handsomely bound in
COUR ON haa EVR a ate aE RON eee Dee Net $25.00

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Camp fires in the Yukon.

Aver, Harry Anton

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UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO
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