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FOR  THE  PEOPLE 

FOR  EDVCATION 

FOR  SCIENCE 

LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  AMERICAN  MUSEUM 

OF 

NATURAL  HISTORY 

-=^/ 


CAMP-FIRES    IN    THE 
CANADIAN    ROCKIES 


BOOKS    BY   WILLIAM    T.    HORNADAY 
PUBLISHED  BY  CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S   SONS 


THE  AMERICAN  NATURAL  HISTORY.     Net, 
$3.50 

TWO  YEARS  IN   THE  JUNGLE.     $2.50 

TAXIDERMY    AND    ZOOLOGICAL    COLLECT- 
ING.   Net,  $2.50 


ropyri-lit.    I  ,      ,'.;,!    ';,i    M     !■ 


The   Finest    Mountain    Cioat    Picture 

Taken  at  ciulit  feet. 


CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE 
CANADIAN  ROCKIES 


BY 


WILLIAM    T.    HORNADAY,   Sc.D. 

DIKKCIOR    OF    THP:     NEW    YORK     ZOOLOGICAL    PARK 
AUTHOR   OK    "THE   AMERICAN    NATURAL   HISTORY" 


ILLUSTRATIONS    BY 

JOHN    M.    PHILLIPS 

PENNSYLVANIA    STATE    GAME    COMMISSIONER 


WITH    SEVENTY   ILLUSTRATIONS   AND    TWO    MAPS 


NEW    YORK 

CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 

1906 


Copyright,    1906,   by 
WILLIAM    T.    HORNADAY 


Published,   October,    1 906 


TROW    DIRECTORY 

VRINTING   AND    BOOKBINDING    COMPANY 

NEW   YORK 


PREFACE 

My  friends  are  called  upon  to  bear  witness  that  of 
the  various  hunting  trips  I  have  enjoyed  in  the  late 
lamented  Wild  West,  I  have  written  of  one  only.  That 
was  twenty  years  ago.  For  so  large  a  sum  of  outdoor 
enjoyment  which  might  have  been  set  forth  in  print,  my 
sight  drafts  upon  the  reading  public  have  been  by  no 
means  extravagant. 

Even  up  to  the  end  of  our  hunt  in  British  Columbia, 
I  had  no  thought  of  bookmaking;  but  now  that  the  hunt 
is  over,  and  we  are  out  of  those  wonderful  mountains,  a 
printed  record  seems  worth  while.  The  land  looms  up 
so  grandly,  its  wild  creatures  seem  so  interesting,  and 
Mr.  Phillips's  pictures  so  fine,  it  would  seem  churlish  to 
refuse  the  labor  that  will  place  them  before  those  who 
care  to  enjoy  them.  Moreover,  detailed  information  of 
nature  as  it  exists  to-day  on  the  summits  of  the  Colum- 
bian Rockies  is  not  so  outrageously  abundant  that  this 
volume  is  likely  to  be  crowded  ofif  the  shelf  by  other 
books  on  that  subject. 

One  month  ago  to-day  we  scrambled  out  of  the 
mountains  of  southeastern  British  Columbia,  tired,  torn, 
and  travel-stained,  but  with  the  wheels  of  Time  turned 
back  about  five  years.    Three  months  ago  literary  com- 


vi  PREFACE 

position  was  unendurable  nerve  torture.  To-night,  how- 
ever, with  the  roar  of  the  mountain  torrents,  the  whistle 
of  the  wind  on  the  passes,  and  the  tinkle  of  the  horse- 
bell  in  my  ears,  I  begin  the  writing  of  these  pages  as 
cheerfully  as  if  I  never  had  known  an  official  care.  I 
am  disposed  to  tell  of  the  wonders  of  that  mountain  land, 
where  we  found  health  and  vigor  while  climbing  after 
grand  game.  We  feel  like  saying  to  the  tired  business 
man,  the  overworked  professional  man,  and  the  sleepless 
newspaper  man, — go,  thou,  and  do  likewise! 

This  is  merely  a  story  of  recreations  with  big  game, 
with  a  few  notes  on  nature.  Next  to  the  necessity  of  a 
strenuous  trip  into  mountain  wilds,  my  chief  object  was 
to  get  into  the  home  of  the  mountain  goat,  and  learn 
at  first  hand  something  of  the  strange  personality  of  that 
remarkable  animal.  The  most  valuable  result  of  the 
trip,  however,  is  Mr.  Phillips's  wonderful  photographs 
of  a  live  mountain  goat,  secured  at  risks  to  life  and  limb 
that  were  really  unjustifiable. 

Until  our  mountain  diversion  was  half  over,  I  had 
not  realized  that  so  much  of  living  interest  in  nature, 
of  good  luck  in  hunting,  of  rare  success  in  photography, 
and  unalloyed  delight  in  camp  life  could  be  packed  into 
the  limits  of  one  vacation  hunting  trip;  but  that  expe- 
rience established  a  new  record.  At  first  I  could  not 
understand  how  Mr.  Phillips  could  find  interest  in  going 
to  the  same  region  for  five  trips  in  succession;  but  now 
I  know.     It  is  the  mystic  Spell  of  the  Mountains! 

We  dread  the  day  of  the  ranch,  the  road,  the  railway, 
and  the  coal-mine, — anywhere  near  the  Elk  and  the  Bull 


PREFACE  vii 

Rivers.  We  left  behind  us  all  those  "  improvements " 
on  the  face  of  nature,  and  went  far  beyond  the  last  tin 
can  of  civilization.  For  many  miles  our  men  had  to 
chop  out  a  trail  for  the  pack-train  before  we  could  get 
on.  Some  of  our  travel  was  laborious,  and  some  of  it 
dangerous;  but  there  was  no  accident.  In  every  respect 
both  the  outfit  and  the  trip  were  ideal. 

No  doubt  all  persons  who  are  interested  in  the 
photographing  of  wild  animals  in  their  haunts  will 
desire  to  know  how  Mr.  Phillips  obtained  the  moun- 
tain goat  photographs  which  are  reproduced  in  this 
volume.  They  were  made  with  a  Hawk-Eye  Stereo 
Camera,  No.  i.  Mr.  Phillips  never  has  used  a  tele- 
photo  lens.  His  series  of  photographs  of  the  moun- 
tain goat  represent  what  I  believe  to  be  the  most  dar- 
ing, and  also  the  most  successful,  feat  in  big-game 
photography  ever  accomplished. 

W.  T.  H. 

New  York,   November  i,  1905. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER    I 

PAGE 

The   Pilgrimage  to   Goatland i 

The  Delectable  Mountains — Over  the  Great  Northern — The  Sweet- 
Grass  Hills — Into  the  Rockies — The  Fernie  Game-Protectors — Brit- 
ish Columbia  Game-Laws  too  Liberal. 


CHAPTER    n 

In  the  Valley  of  Elk   River lo 

Fernie  and  Michel — Mr.  Crahan  and  his  Hotel — Return  of  Professor  H. 
F.  Osborn  and  his  Family — The  Members  of  our  Outfit — The  First 
Wild  Animal — Jack  Pine  Timber — -Sheep  Mountain — *<My  Moun- 
tain," for  a  Month — A  Marten  Trap — Fool-Hens. 


CHAPTER    ni 
A  Golden   Day  on   Fording   River 24 

A  Bath  in  the  Sulphur  Spring — A  Ride  to  Fording  River — Cut-Throat 
Trout  galore — Josephine  Falls — Evening  over  the  Elk  Valley. 


CHAPTER    IV 

Travel  in  the   Mountains ^5 

"  House-Roof  Mountains  " — Making  Up  Packs — When  Charlie  Threw 
Down  his  Pack — Valley  Thoroughfares — Green  Timber — Down 
Timber — Trail-Cutting — Berries  of  the  Mountains. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   V 

PAGE 

The  Mountain  Goat  at  Home 46 

Our  Welcome  to  Goatland — Three  Goats  Stampede  through  our  Camp — 
A  Wild  Spot — Mountain  Color  on  a  Gray  Day — An  Early- Morning 
Caller — Goats  at  Rest — How  Goats  Climb — Stalking  Two  Big 
Billies — Two  Goats  Killed — Measurements  and  Weight. 

CHAPTER    VI 

On  Bird  Mountain  :  Photographing  Mountain 
Sheep 65 

A  Mountain  Cyclorama — The  Continental  Divide — Phillips  Peak — 
A  Land  Unmapped  and  Unmeasured — Mountain  Altitudes  along  Elk 
River — Statement  by  Geologist  McEvoy — Mountain  Sheep  Atoot — 
Photographing  Two  Sheep  on  the  Goat  Rocks — Sheep  and  Goats  Seen 
at  the  Same  Moment. 

CHAPTER   VII 

A  Great  Day  with   Goats 77 

Goats  Far  Up — The  Climb,  and  its  Difficulties — An  Elusive  Pair — Ten 
Big  Billies  at  Hand — Observations  of  an  Hour — Four  Goats  Killed, 
and  Utilized — The  Tallest  Goat,  and  the  Heaviest — Rolling  Car- 
casses— Down  Avalanche  Creek  to  a  Beautiful  Camp. 

CHAPTER    VIII 

The   Mountain   Goat  as  we  Saw   Him 92 

A  Mountain  Goat's  Paradise — General  Character  of  the  Animal — Its 
Place  in  Nature — Not  an  "Antelope" — Description — Distribution — 
Food — Sleeping-Places — Accidents  in  Snow-Slides — Swimming — 
Stupid  or  Not  Stupid — Courage — A  Philosophic  Animal — Affection 
— Fighting  Powers — A  Goat  Kills  a  Grizzly — Bear-Shy  Goats — 
The  Tragedy  of  the  Self-Trapped  Goats. 

CHAPTER    IX 

Timber-Line  and  Summit 127 

One-Eyed  Men  in  the  Mountains — A  Mountain  Savant — A  Climb  in 
False  Notch — Foot  and  Nerve  Exhaustion — A  Daring  Goat — Ex- 
periments— The  Component  Parts  of  Mountain-Sides — Temperature 
Record  of  a  Climber — A  Great  Basin  and  a  Bull  Elk — A  Tree 
Scarred  by  a  Mountain  Ram. 


CONTENTS  xi 


CHAPTER   X 

PAGE 

Alone  on  a  Mountain 145 

Getting  Next  to  Nature — Waterfall  Notch — The  Pika  at  Home — 
Ground-Squirrels  and  Grizzly  Bears — Temptation  Goats — Variations 
between  Summits- — Fool-Hens  and  Ptarmigan — Dwarf  Spruces — Bull 
River — Mule-Deer  Grounds — Berries  of  the  Mountains — Charlie 
Smith  Finds  Grizzly-Bear  Signs. 

CHAPTER   XI 
My  Grizzly   Bear-Day 1^9 

Rubbing-Trees  of  Bears — Fresh  Grizzly  **  Signs  "  Reported — A  Trip  to 
the  Goat  Remains — A  Silver-Tip  at  Work — Her  Death — The 
Autopsy — Amateur  Photography  and  its  Results — The  Bear's  Cache 
— Wolverines  Observed — A  Jollification  in  Camp. 

CHAPTER   XII 
Notes  on  the  Grizzly   Bear 172 

Rarity  of  the  Grizzly  in  the  United  States — Seasons — The  Grizzly 
Bear's  Calendar — Solitary  Habits — Food  of  Grizzlies — A  Carrion 
Feeder — Weight  of  Grizzlies — "Grizzly"  or  '*  Silver- Tip  " — Re- 
strictions in  Killing. 

CHAPTER   XIII 

Photographing  a  Mountain  Goat  at  Six  Feet      .   181 

Wild-Animal  Photography — A  Subject  on  the  Crags — At  the  Head  of 
the  Grand  Slide — The  Billy  Goat  at  Bay — Exposures  at  Six  Feet — 
The  Glaring  Eyes  of  the  Camera  Stops  a  Charge — At  Last  the 
Subject  Stands  Calmly  and  Looks  Pleasant — In  Peril  from  a  '*  Dead  " 
Knee — A  Sleepless  Night  from  the  Perils  of  the  Day. 

CHAPTER   XIV 
A  Rainy  Day  in  Camp 199 

The  Finest  of  all  Camps — A  Record-Breaking  Cook — Fearful  Slaughter 
of  Comestibles — Drying  Meat  from  Big  Game — A  Good  Method 
Described — The  Norboe  Brothers — Trapping  on  Bull  River — The 
Trappers'  Bill  of  Fare — Mack  Norboe' s  Biggest  Bear — The  Big  Bear 
that  Got  Away. 


xii  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER   XV 

PAGE 

Camp-Fire  Tales 212 

Charlie  Smith's  Story — An  Outlaw  in  Camp — A  Silent  Death  Sentence 
— The  Pursuers  of  Tom  Savage  Find  Him — -His  Fate — John  Norboe 
Introduces  Old  John  Campbell — Trying  to  be  Chased  by  a  Grizzly — 
The  Bear  that  Fell  into  the  Fire. 

CHAPTER    XVI 

More  Camp-Fire  Yarns 221 

The  Charge  of  The  Duchess — The  Death  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington — 
The  Horror  of  the  Rocks — The  Sheep  that  Couldn't  be  Caught — 
The  Matches  that  Wouldn't  Light. 

CHAPTER    XVII 

A  Great   Mountain  Sheep   Hunt 235 

Variations  in  Sheep  Hunting — Artistic  Value  of  Scenery  in  Hunting — ^John 
Norboe' s  Peril — Camp  Necessity — Remarkable  Goat  Licks — Sheep 
Signs — A  Very  Long  Stalk — Attack  in  a  Wind  Storm — Misses  and 
Hits — Mack  Norboe's  '«  Hungers" — Three  Dead  Rams— A  Night 
of  Terror. 

CHAPTER    XVIII 

Mountain  Sheep   Notes 250 

The  Culminating  Point  ot  a  Species — Measurements  of  Record  Heads — 
Range  of  the  Big-Horn — The  White  Sheep — The  Black  Sheep — 
Fannin's  Sheep — Fighting  Noses  of  our  Specimens — Reinforcement 
of  the  Neck — Captain  Radcliffe's  Opinion  About  Broken  Tips — 
Measurements  of  our  Sheep — Comparative  Dimensions  of  Sheep, 
Goat  and  Mule  Deer — Comparison  of  Sheep  and  Goat — Enemies 
of  Mountain  Sheep — Impending  Extinction  in  British  Columbia. 

CHAPTER    XIX 
A   Panoramic   Grizzly-Bear   Hunt 265 

Luck  as  a  Factor  in  Bear  Hunting — An  Exhausting  Climb — A  Silver-Tip 
Sighted — Mr.  Phillips  and  Mack  Run  for  it — -A  Summit  Stroll  Be- 
tween the  Acts — The  Ball  Opens — A  Long  Chase — Snap-Shots 
Only,  and  at  Long  Range — A  Good  Long  Shot — Mack's  Fusillades 
— A  Foot-Shot  Bear,  and  Chaff  for  the  Victors. 


CONTENTS  xiii 

CHAPTER   XX 

PAGE 

Avalanche  and  Slide-Rock 280 

The  "Snow-Slide" — An  Ideal  Mountain  Section — Creek  Buried  Under 
Slide-Rock — Timber  Wrecked  by  Avalanche— -Slides  and  Wild  Ani- 
mals— How  Slides  Originate — Twelve  Slides  in  One  Mile — Slide- 
Rock — How  Mountain  Peaks  Change  to  Steep  Slopes — An  Object 
Lesson  in  False  Notch. 

CHAPTER    XXI 

The  Small   Neighbors  of  the   Big  Game  ....  293 

Animal  Life  on  the  Summits — The  Little  Chief  "Hare" — A  Four- 
Footed  Haymaker — The  Fate  of  "  Little  Mike" — The  Columbia 
River  Ground-Squirrel — A  Tiny  Chipmunk — A  Plethoric  Ground- 
Squirrel — The  Yellow-Haired  Porcupine- — The  Pine  Squirrel — The 
Pack- Rat — The  Hoary  Marmot — The  Wolverine — The  Trappers' 
Evil  Genius— Species  of  Depredations — Charlie  Smith  Gets  Square 
with  an  Enemy — A  Wolverine  Caught  Alive. 

CHAPTER    XXII 

Small   Neighbors  of  the   Big   Game   (Continued)      .  312 

The  Pine  Marten — The  Coyote — Mule  Deer — Winter  Birds  Only — 
Franklin  Grouse,  or  '•  Fool-Hen  " — White-Tailed  Ptarmigan — 
Harlequin  Duck — Water  Ouzel — Eagles  and  Hawks — Clark's  Nut- 
cracker— Canada  Jay  and  Magpie. 

CHAPTER    XXIII 
Down   Avalanche   Creek,   and   Out 321 

Cutting  our  Way  Out — A  Side  Trip  to  High  Summits — Discovery  of 
Lake  Josephine — A  Camp  for  Three — A  Lofty  Hunting  Ground 
— My  Luck  Against  the  Storm-Clouds — A  Body-Racking  Descent 
— The  Struggle  for  a  Trail  Out — Mr.  Phillips  and  I  Go  Out  on 
Foot — The  Jack  Pine,  Down  and  Up — Running  Logs  Over  Down 
Timber — Out  at  Last. 


xiv  CONTENTS 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

PAGE 

Captive  Mountain  Goats 233 

Record  of  Captive  Goats  Exhibited — Perilous  Capture  by  Smith  and 
Norboe — An  Easy  Capture — A  Game  Warden  in  Trouble — First 
Specimens  for  New  York — Others  from  Fort  Steele- — Shipping  Ani- 
mals by  Express — The  Author  Becomes  Travelling  Companion  for 
Five  Goat  Kids — Traits  in  Captivity — A  Glance  Backward. 

Index 345 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Except  when  otherwise  noted,  all  these  illustrations  are  from  photographs 
made  by  John  M.  Phillips,  and  have  been  reproduced  without  the  slightest  al- 
teration or  retouching. 

The   Finest   Mountain   Goat   Picture Frontispiece 

Michel,  British  Columbia,  Looking  West.  page 

Photograph  by  Thomas  Crahan  12 

Elk  River 16 

Hornaday  Mountain 20 

Trout  Fishing  at  Josephine  Falls 28 

The   Pack-Train   Leaving  Sulphur  Spring  Camp 32 

Fording  Elk  River 38 

The  Valley  of  Goat  Creek 44 

Goats   Running  through  our  Camp 48 

The  Size  of  a   Mountain   Goat 52 

Weighing   Mountain   Goat   No.  i    by   Sections 58 

"The   Moment  of  Triumph," — caught  unawares 62 

Phillips   Peak,   from   Bird   Mountain 68 

A   Female  Sooty   Grouse 70 

Female   Ptarmigan,  in   Summer  Plumage 70 

Young  Mountain   Sheep   Ram 74 

The  Sky   Pasture  of  the  Thirteen  "  Billy  "   Goats      ....  82 

Taking  the  First  Shot 82 

A   Mountain   Goat  at   Home 86 

Frpnt  Foot  of  a  Mountain  Goat.      Drawn  by  Miss  Helen  Ingersoll  98 

XV 


xvi  ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING 
PAGE 


Hind  Foot  of  a   Mountain   Goat.        Drawn  by   Miss   Ingersoll  98 
The  Function   of  a   Mountain   Goat's   Rear   Dew-claws. 

Drawn   by   Miss  Ingersoll  98 

Bottom  of  a   Mountain   Goat's  Foot.      Drawn  by  Miss  Ingersoll  102 

Bottom  of  a  Sheep's   Foot     .      .      .      Drawn   by  Miss   Ingersoll  102 

Skeleton   of  an   Adult   Male   Mountain   Goat 102 

Timber-Line   in   Winter 130 

A   Big-Horn   Ram's  Signature 142 

Goat  Lick  on  the  Southern   Slope  of  Cyclorama  Ridge       .      .142 

Early  Morning  on   Goat   Pass 146 

The  Little   Hay-Maker  of  the  Slide-Rock 150 

The   Grizzly's    Lawful    Prey — The    Columbia    River    Ground 

Squirrel 150 

The  Author's  Grizzly  Bear.       Photograph  by  W.  T.  Hornaday  168 
The  Scene  of  Two  Actions — Goats  and   Grizzly      .      .      .      .170 

Mr.   Phillips's   Grizzly 176 

The   Haunt  of  the   Camera   Goat 182 

The  Face  of  the   Precipice   from   Below,  with   Goat  in  situ      .  186 

The   Goat  on   the  Stratified   Rock 188 

The  Goat   at   Ease 190 

An   Angry   Mountain  Goat  at   Close  Quarters 192 

The  Goat   Climbing   Down   and   Away 194 

Mr.   Phillips's   most   Dangerous   Position. 

Drawn  by  Charles  B.   Hudson  196 

A   Rainy   Day   in    Camp 206 

"The  Lunch   Counter"  at   Camp   Hornaday 214 

Mr.   Phillips's   Finest   Mountain   Sheep 244 

The   Brooklyn    Ram,  Thirty   Minutes   after  Death      ....  248 

A   Prize   Big-Horn   Head 254 

Head  of  a   Black  Mountain  Sheep      ....,,...  254 


ILLUSTRATIONS  xvii 


FACING 
PAGE 


Head  of  Largest   Big-Horn   Ram,  side  view 260 

Head  of  Largest   Big-Horn   Ram,  front   view 260 

Mr.  Phillips   Regrets  the   Impending  Extinction  of  the  Grizzly 

Bear 278 

The   Might  of  a  Snow-Slide 282 

A  Great  Snow-Slide    .      .      .       Drawn  by   Charles   B.   Hudson  286 

A  Snow-Comb  at  Timber-Line 288 

The   Pack-Train   on  a  Great  Field  of  Slide-Rock       ....  290 

The  Western  Yellow-Haired   Porcupine 304 

Canada  Lynx,  in  Trap   .      .     .       Photograph  by  C.   L.  Smith  304 

The  Wolverine,  in  Trap      .      .       Photograph  by  C.  L.   Smith  310 

The  Wolverine  in  New  York.       Photograph  by  E.  R.  Sanborn  310 

A   Dark-Skinned   Marten 314 

A  Typical  Marten  Trap •      -314 

The   Haunt  of  the   Harlequin   Duck 318 

The  Water  Ouzel 318 

A  Typical   Mountain   Lakelet 324 

Packing  up  the  Trophies 328 

The    Tangle    of    "  Dead"    and    "  Down "    Timber,  Avalanche 

Creek 330 

Log-Running  over  "  Down  "  Timber 330 

Risking  his  Life  for  a   Kid  .       Drawn  by  Charles   B.   Hudson  334 

A  Newly-Captured   Mountain   Goat   Kid 336 

Kaiser,  looking  for  Goats 342 

MAPS 

Sketch  Map  of  the   Elk  and   Bull   River   Region,    East   Koote- 

nay,   B.  C By  John   M.   Phillips  8 

Distribution  of  the  White  Mountain  Goat.    By  W.  T.  Hornaday  106 


CAMP-FIRES    IN    THE 
CANADIAN    ROCKIES 


CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE 
CANADIAN  ROCKIES 

CHAPTER   I 

THE  PILGRIMAGE  TO  GOATLAND 

The  Delectable  Mountains — Over  the  Great  Northern — The  Sweet- 
Grass  Hills — Into  the  Rockies — The  Fernie  Game-Protectors — 
British  Columbia  Game-Laws  too  Liberal. 

In  an  unguarded  moment,  Mr,  John  M.  Phillips,  of 
Pittsburg, — true  sportsman,  game-protector,  mountaineer, 
photographer  and  genial  gentleman,  all  in  one,* — told 
me  of  some  wonderful  mountains  in  the  far  West.  He 
said  they  are  well  filled  with  game,  and  as  yet  wholly 
unspoiled  by  hunters.  There  the  mountain  goat  abounds, 
and  can  be  studied  to  excellent  advantage.  There  are 
grizzly  bears  and  mountain  sheep  which  may  be  killed 
under  license,  and  a  few  elk  which  may  not.  In  that 
wonderland  of  Nature  no  sportsman  has  yet  set  foot 
without  Mr.  Phillips's  consent  and  cooperation;  for  it 
was  discovered  by  him  and  his  guides,  and  by  them  is 
carefully  preserved  from  ruin. 

Thoughtlessly,  I  voiced  my  long-standing  desire  to 

*  Mr.  Phillips  is  also  State  Game  Commissioner,  and  the  founder  of  the 
Lewis  and  Clark  Club. 

I 


2       CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

see  many  mountain  goats  at  home,  in  fine  mountains ;  and 
straightway  my  good  friend  graciously  invited  me  to 
accompany  him  on  his  next  trip.  Before  the  invitation 
could  be  withdrawn  and  cancelled,  it  was  accepted. 

Being  averse  to  deep  snow  as  the  basis  of  a  pleasure- 
trip,  I  voted  for  September  as  the  month,  and  although 
Mr.  Phillips  thought  that  the  chances  for  finding  griz- 
zlies in  that  month  were  not  great,  he  readily  consented. 
Never  having  gone  through  northern  Montana  from  end 
to  end,  I  bespoke  the  selection  of  the  Great  Northern 
Railway  as  our  route  from  St.  Paul,  and  we  found  that 
the  panorama  of  Montana  thus  secured  was  delightful 
as  well  as  instructive. 

The  country  traversed  by  the  Northern  Pacific  Rail- 
way is  to  me  almost  as  familiar  as  my  own  door-yard; 
but  what  lay  north  of  the  Missouri?  And  wherein 
would  it  differ? 

Through  the  level  and  fertile  wheat-lands  of  northern 
Minnesota,  there  run  so  many  parallels  and  feeders  of  the 
Great  Northern  system  that  the  "  main  line  "  is  almost 
a  fiction  of  the  past.  The  tenderfoot  needs  to  be  told 
which  section  he  is  riding  upon.  From  St.  Paul  up  to 
the  latitude  of  Grand  Forks,  even  a  new  trolley-line 
would  seem  to  be  an  inexcusable  extravagance. 

A  ride  in  August  through  the  heart  of  our  great 
north-western  wheat-belt  is  an  event.  Mile  after  mile, 
and  hour  after  hour,  the  sea  of  golden  grain  is  being 
swept  in  by  the  harvesters,  bound  into  millions  of  bun- 
dles,— with  the  least  possible  expenditure  of  labor, — 
shocked,  loaded  and  hauled  to  the  threshers.     Hither, 


THE    PILGRIMAGE    TO    GOATLAND  3 

yonder,  anywhere,  the  steam  thresher  "  'lights  "  for  a 
few  hours,  and  a  section  of  the  wheat-laden  plain  is  thrust 
into  its  insatiable  maw.  No  longer  does  the  farmer  and 
his  labor-swapping  neighbors  toil  and  moil  on  the  straw- 
stack,  as  of  yore.  The  automatic  stacker  does  all  that, 
while  the  farmer  busies  himself  with  gathering  in  the 
spoil.  The  straw-heaps  dot  the  stubble-fields  at  near  in- 
tervals, and  with  the  baled  product  selling  in  New  York 
at  $18  per  ton,  these  reckless  north-western  nabobs 
burn  their  strawl 

In  the  days  of  the  buffalo  millions,  this  country  was 
a  part  of  the  summer  range  of  the  great  northern  herd. 
And  it  was  to  these  same  smoothly  shaven  plains,  in  North 
Dakota,  delightfully  free  from  the  sage-brush  that  per- 
vades the  lands  farther  south,  that  the  Red  River  settlers, 
of  what  is  now  Manitoba,  came  every  summer  with  their 
great  caravans  of  carts,  accompanied  by  their  wives  and 
children.  They  came  to  kill  buffaloes,  dry  their  meat, 
make  pemmican  and  cure  bufifalo-hides  for  leather, — all 
for  use  during  the  long  and  dreary  winters  that  tried 
men's  souls.  The  naked  plains  over  which  the  Red  River 
settlers  joyously  drove  their  carts  are  now  covered  with 
wheat.  The  creaky  cart  has  given  place  to  the  locomo- 
tive. The  steam  thresher  has  taken  the  place  of  the  half- 
breed's  rifle,  while  to  the  present  generation  pemmican 
is  almost  unknown. 

And  now,  when  at  last  we  are  surfeited  by  the  abun- 
dance of  the  harvest,  and  worn  out  with  thankfulness  for 
the  continued  prosperity  of  the  great  wheat-belt,  we 
glide  on  into  Montana,  and  turn  with  even  keener  inter- 


4       CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

est  to  a  new  panorama, — the  late  lamented  "  Wild 
West." 

Throughout  the  once  great  but  now  greatly  dimin- 
ished Sioux  Indian  Reservation,  canvas  tepees,  log  cabins, 
blanketed  braves,  broad-beamed  squaws  and  paintless 
wagons  abound.  The  Fort  Peck  Reservation,  as  it  is 
called,  begins  near  Calais  and  extends  to  Whateley, 
about  eighty  miles.  The  time  was  when  the  Sioux  were 
picturesque,  uncertain,  and  at  times  even  thrilling.  As 
tame  Indians,  with  no  more  buffalo-herds  to  tempt  them 
upon  the  war-path,  the  Sioux  look  commonplace.  When 
I  think  how  the  souls  of  their  hunters  must  yearn  for  the 
chase,  and  how  even  the  excitement  of  horse-stealing  is 
denied  them,  I  pity  them.  It  is  no  wonder  that  even 
with  horses  in  abundance,  parties  of  young  Sioux  of  the 
"  warrior  "  class  used  to  go  down  to  the  Crow  Reserva- 
tion, two  hundred  miles  or  more,  steal  horses  and  run 
them  up  north  of  the  Missouri,  purely  for  the  excitement 
of  the  chase. 

South-east  of  Fort  Assiniboin,  about  forty  miles  away, 
is  a  mountain  mass  of  considerable  magnitude.  It  is 
the  Bear  Paw  Mountains,  once  good  hunting-grounds 
for  big  game,  but  now  "  hunted  out."  All  along  the  line 
of  the  Great  Northern,  from  Minnesota  to  the  mountains, 
there  is  an  astonishing  absence  of  sage-brush.  It  is  so 
abundant  along  the  Northern  Pacific  west  of  the  Mis- 
souri that  I  expected  to  see  a  good  showing  of  it  farther 
north.  But  there  is  so  little  of  it  that  it  fails  to  count; 
and  there  is  no  other  plains  brush  to  take  its  place. 
South  of  the  Sweet-Grass  Hills,  for  instance,  the  prairie 


THE    PILGRIMAGE    TO    GOATLAND  5 

is  like  a  smoothly  shaven  lawn.  On  hundreds  of  square 
miles  of  it,  we  see  not  a  tree,  nor  a  bush  as  thick  as  a  pen- 
holder. More  than  this,  there  is  no  rank  grass,  and  the 
earth  looks  as  if  it  were  covered  with  a  vast  and  all- 
pervading  sheet  of  cocoa  matting.  Upon  it,  a  jack-rabbit 
looms  up  to  enormous  proportions, — or  would  if  there 
were  one  left  to  loom. 

It  is  from  this  smoothly  shaven  and  almost  level 
world  of  brown-gray  that  the  three  peaks  of  the  Sweet- 
Grass  Hills  rise  suddenly  and  sharply  out  of  the  plain, 
without  a  vestige  of  intervening  foot-hills.  Rising  as 
they  do,  they  seem  lofty,  steep-sided,  black  and  even  un- 
canny. From  certain  points  you  see  that  they  stand  on  a 
wide  and  almost  level  bench,  like  three  mineral  speci- 
mens on  a  thin  pedestal.  Notice  particularly  the  bench 
that  joins  the  western  side  of  the  most  westerly  peak. 
Miles  and  miles  to  the  westward,  it  rises  very  abruptly, 
and  with  its  top  almost  level,  it  runs  up  toward  the  peak 
without  the  slightest  break  in  its  upper  line.  These  Hills 
are  about  forty  miles  from  the  railway,  and  for  fully 
one  hour  the  train  glides  along  seemingly  due  south  of 
them. 

The  Great  Northern  reaches  the  main  range  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains  at  Midvale,  and  the  transition  from 
plains  to  mountains  is  made  quite  abruptly.  Here  the 
Rockies  are  not  in  the  least  like  those  crossed  by  the 
Union  Pacific, — so  modest  and  uneventful  you  scarce 
know  where  they  begin  or  leave  off.  You  can  plant  your 
foot  on  the  very  spot  where  these  begin;  and  from  that 
spot  they   tower   up    to   the   heights   of   your   imagina- 


6       CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE    CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

tion  of  what  real  mountains  should  be.  The  foot  of 
these  mountains  marks  the  eastern  boundary  of  what  now 
is  the  great  Lewis  and  Clark  Forest  Reserve,  embracing 
the  whole  main  range  of  the  Rockies  from  the  inter- 
national boundary  southward,  one  hundred  and  thirty- 
five  miles,  to  the  lower  end  of  the  Flathead  Reservation. 

As  you  glide  smoothly  along  the  south  fork  of  the 
Flathead  River,  you  are  aware  of  much  dead  timber, 
both  standing  and  "  down."  Unless  you  are  an  old  cam- 
paigner, however,  the  sight  of  those  tracts  of  "  down 
timber  "  does  not  strike  any  terror  to  your  soul.  But 
wait!  One  week  hence,  and  you  shall  learn,  by  wrench 
of  joint  and  sweat  of  brow,  by  ups  and  by  downs,  just 
how  terrible  fallen  tree-trunks  can  become. 

From  our  first  entry  into  the  Rocky  Mountains,  at 
the  edge  of  the  Sweet-Grass  plains,  until  a  month  later 
when  we  left  them  at  that  point  bound  east,  we  were 
never  out  of  the  highlands.  The  ride  through  to  Rex- 
ford  is  a  beautiful  panorama  of  mountain  scenery  and 
vegetation.  Hour  by  hour  Mr.  Phillips  devoured  it  with 
his  eyes,  missing  not  even  one  rock  or  tree,  or  one  emerald 
green  pool  of  the  clear  mountain  stream  far  below. 

Like  a  hair-pin  on  the  map,  the  Kootenay  River 
comes  down  from  British  Columbia  into  the  north-west- 
ern corner  of  Montana,  bends  westward  for  a  short  dis- 
tance, then  turns  and  runs  north  again — as  if  it  had  found 
Montana  an  inhospitable  country.  At  the  extreme  east- 
ern angle  of  the  big  bend  is  the  backwoods  hamlet  of 
Rexford;  and  be  it  known  that  the  section  of  the  Great 
Northern  from  Columbus  Falls  to  Spokane  direct  is  no 


THE    PILGRIMAGE   TO    GOATLAND  7 

longer  the  "  main  line,"  but  a  branch.  The  main  line 
runs  up  to  Rexford,  and  thence  down  to  Spokane. 

At  Rexford,  we  changed  to  the  branch  line  of  the 
Great  Northern  which  runs  up  the  east  bank  of  the 
Kootenay,  into  British  Columbia.  At  Gateway  we  had 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  mythical  International  Boun- 
dary, and  standing  astride  it.  It  lies  across  the  railway- 
platform,  and  is  painted  white.  Near  by,  a  bronze  monu- 
ment has  been  erected  to  its  memory. 

This  branch  brings  us  to  the  Canadian  Pacific  Rail- 
way at  Fernie,  the  metropolis  of  the  great  soft-coal  min- 
ing district  known  as  the  "  Fernie  district."  It  is  in  the 
extreme  south-eastern  corner  of  British  Columbia. 

At  Fernie,  Attorney  H.  W.  Herchmer,  president  of 
the  local  Game  Protective  Association,  gave  us  a  royal 
welcome,  and  turned  over  to  us  the  two  non-resident 
hunting-licenses  which  he  had  procured  at  our  request. 
The  licenses  cost  us  $50  each.  They  conveyed  full  war- 
rant of  law  for  the  holder  to  kill  five  mountain  goats 
(sex  not  mentioned),  three  mountain  sheep  rams,  griz- 
zly bear  without  number,  six  deer  (sexes  immaterial), 
and  one  bull  moose.    Elk  are  absolutely  protected. 

When  on  our  way  out,  we  stopped  in  Fernie  over 
night,  and  President  Herchmer  called  a  special  meet- 
ing of  the  Fernie  District  Game  Protective  Association, 
at  his  home.  During  this  meeting  we  discussed  the 
game  law. 

We  objected  to  the  goat  item,  on  the  ground  that  no 
man  should  be  permitted  to  kill  more  than  three  goats 
in  a  year;  and  we  held  that  females  should  not  be  killed 


8       CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 


at  all.  Any  man  who  is  unable  to  distinguish  an  adult 
male  from  a  female  should  not  be  permitted  to  hunt 
goats.  We  objected  to  the  limit  of  three  mountain  sheep 
rams,  on  the  ground  that  in  view  of  the  scarcity  of  those 
animals,  one  ram  in  one  year  is  enough  for  one  man. 
"  Six  deer  "  should  be  changed  to  "  three  male  deer," 
and  unlimited  grizzly  bears  to  one  only. 

STATEMENT  OF  LICENSE   LAW 


Legal  to  kill  in    1 905: 

5  Caribou  (males  only), 

5  Goats, 

3  Mountain  Sheep  Rams, 

5  Deer, 

2  Moose  (males  only). 

Unlimited  Grizzly  Bears, 

Unlimited  Black  Bears, 

No  elk. 


As  it  should  be: 

3  male  Caribou, 

3  male  Goats, 

I  Sheep  ram  of  each  species, 

3  Male  Deer  of  each  species, 

1  Grizzly  Bear, 

2  Black  Bears, 

No  Moose  south  of  lat.  52°  until 

1910, 
No  elk  on  mainland  until  1920. 


The  present  law  prohibiting  the  sale  of  game  heads 
is  admirable,  but  it  needs  more  rigid  enforcement  than 
at  this  date  (1905)  prevails.  So  long  as  large  sheep 
heads  are  worth  from  $25  to  $50  each,  unmounted,  just 
so  long  will  hunters  and  taxidermists  take  risks  in  selling 
them. 

The  big  game  of  British  Columbia  is  a  public  asset 
of  very  considerable  value.  If  rightly  protected  and 
exploited,  it  can  be  made  to  yield  to  the  southern  dis- 
tricts many  thousands  of  dollars  annually, — in  the  hire  of 
guides  and  horses,  the  purchase  of  supplies,  and  in  license 
fees.     At   the   same   time,   by   carefully   protecting   all 


THE    PILGRIMAGE   TO    GOATLAND  9 

female  animals^  the  game  can  be  maintained  at  a  point 
which  does  not  spell  extinction.  The  Fernie  District 
Game  Protective  Association  was  not  organized  a  mo- 
ment too  soon.  Its  work  is  cut  out  for  it,  and  it  is  to  be 
hoped  that  it  will  retain  a  large  membership,  together 
with  a  large  annual  income,  in  order  that  it  may  have 
the  power  to  protect.  Game  cannot  be  really  protected 
without  the  expenditure  of  some  money. 

Possibly  my  American  Reader  may  be  tempted  to 
think  that  all  this  is  of  little  interest  to  him;  but  not  so. 
The  perpetual  preservation  of  the  grand  game  of  the 
grand  mountain-land  just  beyond  our  northern  boundary 
is  of  interest  to  every  American  sportsman;  and  I  hope 
this  seeming  digression  will  be  endorsed. 

Mr.  Phillips  and  I  have  strongly  recommended  to 
the  Fernie  Association  that  immediate  steps  be  taken  by 
the  provincial  parliament  to  permanently  set  aside,  as  a 
game  preserve,  the  country  between  the  Bull  and  Elk 
Rivers,  with  Charles  L.  Smith  in  charge  of  it  as  warden. 
The  reasons  for  such  a  step  are  too  many  to  mention 
here,  but  let  me  say  that  there  are  practically  no  reasons 
against  it.  Whoever  aids  in  preserving  from  extinction 
the  grand  game  of  British  Columbia  renders  good  ser- 
vice to  two  countries. 


CHAPTER    II 

IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  ELK  RIVER 

Fernie  and  Michel — Mr.  Crahan  and  his  Hotel— ^Return  of  Professor 
H.  F.  Osborn  and  his  Family — The  Members  of  our  Outfit — The 
First  Wild  Animal — Jack  Pine  Timber — Sheep  Mountain — "My 
Mountain,"  for  a  Month — A  Marten  Trap — Fool-Hens. 

We  are  constitutionally  opposed  to  long  delays  in 
journeys  to  hunting-grounds,  either  on  the  rails  or  on 
paper;  but  in  the  valley  of  Elk  River  we  found  so  much 
of  interest  it  is  impossible  to  ignore  this  gateway  to  our 
garden  of  the  gods. 

I  have  already  said  that  a  spur  of  the  Great  North- 
ern Railway  reaches  Fernie,  the  Phoenix  City  of  the 
great  soft-coal  mining  district,  which  incendiaries  seem 
determined  to  wipe  off  the  earth  by  fire,  but  which  re- 
fuses to  stay  burned  down.  It  is  on  the  Crow's  Nest 
branch  of  the  Canadian  Pacific  Railway,  which  breaks 
through  the  main  range  of  the  Rockies  at  Crow's  Nest 
Pass  about  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles  south  of  Banff 
and  the  main  line.  At  Fernie  you  feel  that  you  have 
fully  arrived  in  British  Columbia,  for  on  all  sides  lofty 
mountains  loom  up  and  frown  down  in  rock-ribbed  maj- 
esty. One  peak  of  commanding  presence,  north  of  the 
town,  is  about  to  be  christened  Owl's  Head;  but  the 
name  is  not  satisfactorily  apt.    The  top  of  the  peak  looks 


IN    THE    VALLEY    OF    ELK    RIVER  ii 

much  like  a  flying  dragon,  carved  in  stone,  but  little  like 
an  owl. 

At  Fernie  any  person  (with  money)  can  buy  almost 
anything  in  the  outfit  line,  from  a  trout-hook  to  an  auto- 
mobile. The  hotels  are  excellent,  and  the  men  of  our 
kind  are  courteous  and  hospitable.  There  are  goats  on  the 
mountains  within  ten  miles  of  the  town,  available  for 
those  who  have  no  time  to  go  farther. 

We  took  an  east-bound  train,  ran  on  north  up  the 
Elk  River  about  fourteen  miles,  then  left  the  Elk  Valley 
and  turned  abruptly  eastward.  After  four  miles  more, 
up  Michel  Creek,  through  a  timbered  valley  as  level 
as  a  dancing-floor  and  not  much  wider,  we  reached  the 
town  of  Michel,  our  last  stop  by  rail.  Michel  is  a 
French  name,  and  in  conformity  with  the  one  invari- 
able rule  in  French  pronunciation — never  pronounce  a 
French  word  as  it  is  spelled, — it  is  pronounced  Me-sheir. 
The  town  is  a  mile  and  a  quarter  long  by  five  hundred 
feet  wide;  and  along  the  sides,  no  suburbs  need  apply, 
because  there  is  no  room  for  them.  Immediately  beyond 
the  outermost  houses  the  mountains  rise  up  and  up,  steep 
as  a  house-roof,  and  very  high.  To-day  the  bare  slide- 
ways  that  already  lead  down  the  northern  slope  give 
grim  warning  of  what  can  happen  hereafter.  The  town 
is  strung  along  the  bottom  of  a  V-shaped  trough  in  the 
mountains,  and  every  spring  we  will  dread  to  hear  of 
its  partial  burial  under  a  million  tons  of  snow,  ice,  tree- 
trunks  and  slide-rock.  It  reminds  one  of  the  fatalistic 
Italian  peasant  villages  on  the  slopes  of  Vesuvius. 

All  Michel  is  painted  Indian-red.    The  Crow's  Nest 


12     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

Coal  Company  owns  the  whole  place;  red  is  a  good, 
cheap,  durable  color,  and  what  more  would  you  have? 
The  coal-mines  are  in  both  the  northern  and  southern 
mountains,  the  veins  are  very  thick,  the  coal  is  good,  and 
the  profits  are  said  to  be  eminently  satisfactory  to  the 
parties  of  the  first  part.  The  post-ofUce  is  a  freak,  no 
more,  no  less.  Not  the  slightest  attention  was  paid  to 
"In  care  of  Charles  L.  Smith"  on  our  letters;  and  to 
find  the  ofBce  open  one  must  stalk  the  postmaster  as  if 
he  were  a  mountain  lion. 

The  Hotel  Michel  is  a  wonder.  In  a  small  mining 
town,  in  the  heart  of  a  wilderness,  one  does  not  expect 
much  of  a  hotel;  but  here  is  every  needful  luxury,  and 
from  bottom  to  top  everything  is  as  clean  as  a  new  knife. 
The  food  is  excellent,  and  the  service  away  above  par. 

All  this  excellence  is  due  to  Mr.  Thomas  Crahan, 
an  American,  who  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  men  in 
that  region.  The  story  of  how  he  tamed  the  bar-room 
when  he  assumed  control  of  the  hotel,  and  has  since  ruled 
it  with  a  hand  of  steel  in  a  velvet  glove,  is  both  interest- 
ing and  instructive  as  a  study  in  conglomerate  human 
nature.  Twenty-four  nationalities  are  represented  in 
that  little  town,  and  the  place  is  quiet  and  peaceful  to 
the  point  of  dulness. 

Three  weeks  previous  to  our  arrival,  Professor  Henry 
Fairfield  Osborn,  of  New  York,  took  his  family  up  the 
valley  of  the  Elk  to  the  Sulphur  Springs,  for  an  outing 
under  canvas,  with  plenty  of  fishing  and  photography. 
We  found  them  all  on  the  veranda  of  the  hotel,  happy  and 
aglow  with  the  spell  of  the  mountains.    They  said  it  was 


IN    THE    VALLEY    OF    ELK    RIVER  13 

the  finest  mountain  trip  they  had  ever  had, — and  they 
have  had  a-many. 

They  discovered  and  christened  Josephine  Falls,  and 
caught  eighteen-inch  trout  in  Fording  River  until  con- 
science called  a  halt.  On  the  lofty  clay  bluffs  of  Ford- 
ing River,  quite  near  the  Falls,  Professor  Osborn,  with 
the  aid  of  Charlie  Smith,  Mack  Norboe  and  Dog 
Kaiser,  cornered  a  pair  of  mountain  goats  and  photo- 
graphed them!  And  after  that  the  guides  took  the  Pro- 
fessor up  Goat  Creek,  and  on  the  peak  which  we  soon 
made  haste  to  christen  Mount  Osborn,  he  photographed 
more  goats.  Mr.  Phillips  and  I  were  among  those  pres- 
ent when  the  Professor  first  met  Mrs.  Osborn,  his  son 
and  daughter  on  his  return  from  the  summits,  and  for 
the  first  time  told  them  the  story  of  his  remarkable  ex- 
perience with  his  camera  and  the  goats  it  caught.  It 
created  a  profound  sensation. 

The  only  store  in  Michel  is  a  department  store,  of 
astonishing  size  and  scope.  There  we  completed  our 
outfit,  down  to  the  smallest  detail.  Mr.  Phillips  laid  in 
a  stock  of  provisions  which  fairly  made  me  gasp  at  the 
luxuriance — and  weight — of  the  array.  I  was  prepared 
to  fare  briefly  and  to  the  point,  because  we  were  to  travel 
by  pack-train;  but  John  believes  in  living  well,  and  is 
what  old-fashioned  folk  call  "  a  good  provider."  For 
reasons  of  state,  I  laid  in  a  special  supply  of  salt,  twine, 
allspice,  pepper,  oil,  doctor's  stuff  and  extra  blankets,  all 
of  which  played  their  respective  parts  in  due  season. 

When  finally  we  got  into  our  hunting-clothes  and  hit 
the  trail,  our  outfit  was  absolutely  perfect.     From  my 


14     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

point  of  view,  the  supply  of  canned  goods  was  too  heavy; 
but  later  on  I  observed  that  we  made  away  with  nearly 
the  whole  of  it. 

The  party  consisted  of  Mr.  Phillips  and  the  writer, 
two  guides,  a  scout,  a  cook,  a  dog  and  eight  horses. 
The  guides  were  Charles  L.  Smith  of  the  Elk  River 
valley,  and  R.  W.  Norboe,  of  Meyers  Falls,  Washing- 
ton. John  Norboe  was  the  scout,  and  G.  E.  Huddleston 
was  the  cook.  Kaiser  was  the  official  Dog, —  and  a  finer 
hunting-dog  I  never  associated  with.  Before  the  hunt 
ended,  I  once  slept  with  him  in  my  arms  (to  keep  him 
warm),  and  I  think  I  earned  his  respect  and  friendship. 

From  New  York  to  Michel  the  continent  seemed 
utterly  barren  of  mammalian  life,  except  in  the  Sioux 
Reservation,  where  we  saw  a  few  gray-coated  Franklin 
ground-squirrels  (Citellus  franklini).  We  saw  neither 
antelope,  coyote,  swift  nor  prairie-dog!  On  the  Dakota 
lakes  and  ponds  there  were  a  few  ducks,  enjoying  im- 
munity until  September;  but  the  total  number  was  small. 

At  Charles  L.  Smith's  ranch,  on  Elk  River,  five  miles 
below  Michel,  we  at  last  saw  a  Wild  Animal!  A  big 
pack-rat  (Neotoma)  of  sociable  habits,  calmly  climbed 
into  the  grub-wagon  that  was  to  go  as  far  up  as  Sulphur 
Springs,  and  settled  itself  for  a  migration  at  our  expense. 
The  stowaway  was  discovered,  and  the  alarm  sounded. 
There  between  two  of  the  boxes,  its  head  in  full  view 
under  the  edge  of  the  tarpaulin,  was  as  droll  a  face  as 
could  be  imagined.  The  big  black  eyes  looked  at  us 
inquiringly,  but  calmly,  and  even  fearlessly.    They  said: 

"Well,  what's  all  this  noise  about?    Why  don't  you 


IN    THE    VALLEY    OF    ELK    RIVER  15 

drive  on?  You  needn't  be  afraid  of  Me;  I'm  not  afraid 
of  You." 

How  different  would  have  been  the  action  of  a 
domestic  rat!  One  of  those  villains  would  have  leaped 
about,  and  rushed  through  that  load  like  a  murine 
cyclone,  to  hide  from  its  just  deserts.  If  cornered  it 
would  squeal,  and  bite,  and  fight  all  humanity,  and 
finally  be  killed  in  ghoulish  glee.  But  the  optimistic 
attitude  of  that  gray-furred  and  comfortable  rascal  in- 
stantly disarmed  all  hostility.     At  once  a  cry  went  up, 

"  Save  him  for  the  Zoo!  " 

Huddleston,  the  cook,  put  on  his  leather  gloves, 
calmly  plucked  forth  Neotoma  from  amid  the  boxes, 
and  put  him  in  a  cage,  to  await  our  return.  Around 
the  ranches  in  the  Elk  River  valley,  these  handsome  and 
good-natured  pack-rats  were  quite  common.  During  the 
month  we  were  in  the  mountains  Mrs.  Huddleston 
caught  four  more  for  me,  alive  and  unhurt,  but  two 
escaped  and  two  died. 

I  think  these  creatures  could  easily  be  tamed  and 
trained  to  perform  a  variety  of  tricks.  They  are  so 
steady  of  nerve,  so  conscious  of  their  own  rectitude,  and 
yet  so  original  and  versatile  in  mind,  it  seems  to  me  they 
must  be  capable  of  successful  training.  V^ho  will  be  the 
wise  party  to  introduce  to  the  world  the  first  and  only 
Troupe  of  Trained  Rocky  Mountain  Neotomas?  When 
'tis  done,  I  predict  an  astonishing  display  of  mental 
capacity. 

On  September  3d  we  "  pulled  our  freight,"  literally, 
up  the  Elk  Valley,  in  a  lumber  wagon,  for  one  day's 


i6     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

easy  march  of  twenty-two  miles.  A  mile  above  Charlie 
Smith's  ranch  a  deer  was  seen  bounding  away  toward 
the  river.  At  Frank  Harmer's  ranch,  four  miles  farther 
on,  we  found  the  fresh  tracks  of  a  bear,  and  it  was  with 
some  difficulty  that  I  checked  a  digression  into  the 
jack  pines  to  look  for  their  maker.  To  Mr.  Phillips  it 
seemed  morally  wrong  to  let  that  bear  go  unscotched. 

Harmer's  ranch  is  enclosed  by  a  fence  each  panel  of 
which  was  made  of  three  big  jack  pine  logs,  a  foot  in 
diameter  and  about  thirty  feet  long,  neatly  laid  one  above 
another,  resting  at  each  end  on  three  logs  of  the  same 
size  about  four  feet  long,  laid  squarely  across  the  axis 
of  the  fence.  Both  in  looks  and  utility  it  is  a  good 
fence,  but  rather  heavy  to  build. 

At  Connor's  ranch,  fifteen  miles  from  town,  we 
bought  a  pailful  of  delicious  butter,  at  thirty-three  cents 
a  pound,  and  continued  our  northward  flight.  We 
forded  Elk  River,  over  an  awful  bed  of  bowlders  that 
seemed  certain  to  break  a  leg  for  each  horse  in  the  out- 
fit. A  mile  or  so  beyond  that  crossing  we  forded  Ford- 
ing River  and  entered  a  long  and  beautiful  stretch  of 
jack  pines,  which  revealed  several  interesting  pages  of 
natural  history. 

In  British  Columbia  the  jack  pine  is  not  merely  a 
tree;  it  is  an  institution.*  At  its  best  it  is  an  arboreal 
column   from   ninety   to   one   hundred   and   ten   feet   in 

*  The  Western  Jack  Pine,  or  Lodge-Pole  Pine  {Pinus  dtviricata).  Its 
average  height  in  the  good  soil  of  the  Elk  River  valley  is  very  close  to  one 
hundred  feet,  hut  its  diameter  is  very  small.  The  spread  of  a  one-hundred- 
foot  tree  is  only  ahout  eight  feet. 


Pi 


s 


IN    THE    VALLEY    OF    ELK    RIVER  17 

height.  Its  stem  is  like  a  gigantic  toothpick  which  rises 
as  straight  and  flawless  as  a  ship's  mast,  and  gradually 
tapers  up  to  infinity.  The  regularity  of  the  taper  of  the 
trunk,  and  the  straightness  of  it,  are  wonderful.  For 
about  fifty  feet  up  the  branches  are  apt  to  be  dead,  and 
gray,  and  broken;  but  above  that  the  fine  evergreen 
branches  thrust  out  a  little  way,  most  carefully  however, 
in  order  not  to  be  guilty  of  provoking  a  growth  outside 
of  the  true  perpendicular. 

Where  a  tract  of  timber  has  been  thoroughly  burned, 
in  such  valleys  as  that  of  the  Elk,  millions  of  young  jack 
pines  spring  up.  If  ever  you  are  tempted  to  make  a 
short  cut  on  foot  through  such  a  natural  nursery,  shun 
that  lovely  snare.  Go  around  it  rather  than  struggle 
through  it.  To  forge  directly  through  is  a  very  trouble- 
some and  tiresome  event.  A  jack  pine  forest  through 
which  fire  has  recently  passed,  killing  everything,  makes 
one  think  of  an  army  of  skeletons  on  parade.  As  the 
stems  lose  their  hold  upon  mother  earth,  and  under  press- 
ure of  winds  from  all  quarters,  come  sweeping  down, 
they  fall  across  each  other,  two,  three  or  six  deep,  and 
create  obstructions  to  travel  of  a  most  serious  character. 
In  British  Columbia,  "  down  timber"  is  an  oft-recurring 
curse.  Often  it  is  a  nuisance  of  the  first  magnitude.  We 
saw  much  of  down  timber,  before  we  were  many  days 
older,  and  upon  one  or  two  members  of  our  little  party 
it  rang  many  changes. 

When  you  have  travelled  up  the  Elk  Valley  about 
ten  miles  from  the  railway,  to  your  right,  across  two  miles 
of  valley  there  rises  a  fine  mountain  mass  five  miles  long 


1 8     CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

and  half  a  mile  high.  It  is  called  Sheep  Mountain,  be- 
cause of  the  notable  rams  of  Ovis  canadensis  which  Mr. 
Phillips  and  his  boon  companions,  Smith,  Norboe  and 
Jack  Lewis,  have  killed  and  eaten  upon  its  rock-ribbed 
sides.  John  never  will  forget  his  first  ram,  an  inexperi- 
enced young  creature,  chased  and  shot  on  the  central 
summit,  late  in  October,  with  the  wind  blowing  cold  and 
strong,  when  he  and  Jack  Lewis  were  benighted  on  the 
rocky  top,  without  blankets  or  food.  Later  on  he  told 
me  the  whole  story. 

At  mid-day  we  halted  for  luncheon  opposite  a  moun- 
tain which  rises  directly  north  of  Sheep  Mountain,  and 
separated  from  it  only  by  the  narrow  rift  through  which 
Pass  Creek  flows  westward  into  the  Elk.  It  is  about  four 
miles  long,  its  height  is  about  the  same  as  Sheep  Moun- 
tain, and  by  reason  of  its  isolation  it  is  clear-cut  and 
monumental.  I  asked  its  name,  and  the  men  all  admitted, 
with  apologies,  that  it  had  none.  Then  Mr.  Phillips 
announced,  with  convincing  emphasis,  that  it  should  be 
named  in  my  honor;  and  it  was  so  set  down. 

This  was  a  very  complimentary  proposition,  but  on 
the  oflicial  maps  of  British  Columbia,  the  motion  will 
hardly  prevail.  The  local  authorities  will  not  tamely 
submit  to  the  naming  of  so  fine  a  mountain  after  a  mythi- 
cal eastern  "  tourist."  Nevertheless,  for  the  brief  month 
that  we  were  in  those  wilds,  that  mountain  was  always 
spoken  of  in  our  party  as  my  mountain,  and  I  have  at 
least  known — for  thirty  days — how  it  feels  to  have  a  tall 
namesake  of  Nature's  fashioning  for  my  very  own. 

Mile  after  mile,  the  wagon-trail  led  us  along  an  ever- 


IN    THE    VALLEY    OF    ELK    RIVER 


[9 


green  tunnel  through  a  dense  forest  of  jack  pines,  and 
on  the  way  through  we  saw  many  interesting  things. 
One  of  the  first  was  two  small  saplings  from  which  the 
bark  had  recently  been  stripped  clean  by  an  elk  who 
wished  to  rub  the  velvet  off  his  new  antlers.  And  close 
beside  the  two  white  stems  was  a  third  sapling,  the  size 
of  a  walking-stick,  which  not  only  had  been  peeled  but 
also  bitten  in  two  about  four  feet  from  the  ground.  It 
was  good  to  see  such  fresh  proofs  of  the  fact  that  elk 
still  survive  in  the  valley  of  the  Elk. 

The  next  object  of  special  interest  was  a  marten  trap, 
close  beside  the  trail.  It  was  such  as  any  good  axeman 
can  make  in  about  two  hours,  with  an  axe  and  a  sapling. 
It  was  a  very  neat  piece  of  work.  A  spruce  sapling 
about  ten  inches  in  diameter  was  cut  off  four  feet  above 
the  ground,  so  squarely  that  the  top  of  the  stump  was 
practically  level.  From  somewhere  or  other,  three  very 
thin  pieces  of  spruce,  like  shingles  seven  inches  wide, 
were  split  off  and  driven  into  three  cracks  split  in  the 
top  of  the  stump,  cornering  together  to  form  a  tight  box, 
open  on  top  and  one  side.  Then  a  ten-foot  length  was 
cut  out  of  the  sapling  stem,  one  end  placed  on  the  ground, 
and  the  other  rested  in  the  box  with  one  side  out.  This 
was  a  deadfall.  With  two  sticks  a  very  simple  trigger 
was  made,  the  log  was  raised,  the  triggers  fixed  to  hold 
it  up,  and  a  bait  adjusted  on  the  end  of  the  long  arm  of 
the  trigger.  The  upper  end  of  the  log  was  raised  six 
inches  above  the  edge  of  the  stump.  Result:  The  wan- 
dering marten  smells  the  bait.  He  cannot  reach  it  from 
above,  so  he  climbs  nimbly  up  the  side  of  the  stump. 


20     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

crawls  under  the  deadfall  and  into  the  shingle-box,  seizes 
the  bait  with  a  greedy  growl  of  exultation,  and  crash! 
the  log  comes  down  upon  his  devoted  back,  at  $io  per 
crash. 

There  are  many  advantages  about  this  axe-made 
marten  trap.  A  wolverine  cannot  steal  it  and  throw  it 
into  the  nearest  river;  it  is  never  stolen  by  the  Bad  Man 
of  the  Fernie  District;  it  never  rusts,  it  is  cheap,  and 
there  is  no  need  to  "  order  it  from  the  factory."  The 
only  drawback  about  it  is  that  martens  do  not  always 
range  in  timber  suitable  for  deadfall  traps. 

As  we  rode  ahead  of  the  wagon,  Mr.  Phillips  on 
"  Lady-Bug,"  Charlie  on  "  Muggins,"  and  I  on  old 
"  Warrior,"  Dog  Kaiser  side-stepped  into  the  jungle  and 
gave  tongue.  In  a  deep,  rich  voice  he  cried  "  Oh!  Woo! 
woo!  woo!"  with  his  nose  pointed  upward  into  a  low 
jack  pine. 

"  Fool-Hens,"  said  Charlie,  dismounting.  About  ten 
feet  above  Kaiser's  nose  sat  a  fine,  full-plumaged  male 
Franklin  grouse,  with  a  superbly  black  breast  and  neck, 
but  no  mental  capacity.  To  all  appearances  it  was  a  bird 
of  only  two  ideas:  (i)  to  forage  on  the  ground  until  dis- 
turbed, and  (2)  when  disturbed  to  fly  only  ten  feet  into 
the  nearest  tree  and  wait  to  be  shot.  Naturally,  a  bird 
with  only  two  ideas  is  not  long  for  this  world.  Five 
birds  rose  before  the  dog  and  perched  in  five  nearby 
jack  pines  and  spruces.  I  sat  down  within  ten  feet  of  a 
particularly  intelligent-looking  bird,  while  the  others 
went  ofif,  and  killed  birds  for  supper.  I  wished  to  see 
how  the  noise  and  bustle  would  affect  my  bird's  nerves. 


HornaJay    Mountain 

Looking  northeast  across  Elk  River. 


IN    THE    VALLEY    OF    ELK    RIVER  21 

Using  his  22-calibre  pistol  in  a  most  business-like 
way  Mr.  Phillips  proceeded  to  "  pop  "  down  the  more 
distant  birds,  in  rotation.  At  each  shot  I  expected  that 
my  bird  would  either  protest,  or  take  wing;  but  it  did 
neither.  It  calmly  sat  there,  sodden  in  stupidity;  it 
looked  about  in  wonder,  and  waited  until  the  hunters 
came  up,  all  ready  to  add  it  to  the  bag.  But  some  one 
interposed  with  a  suggestion  that  the  bag  was  already 
large  enough,  which  was  readily  accepted.  At  last  the 
bird  was  fairly  driven  to  flight.  With  a  loud  whir  of 
wings  it  disappeared  in  the  forest,  and  I  presume  it  is 
yet  in  that  jungle,  breeding  fool-hens  still  more  foolish 
than  itself. 

With  this  strange  bird,  the  pendulum  seems  to  have 
swung  the  wrong  way,  and  it  will  hardly  survive 
through  a  sufficient  number  of  generations  to  acquire 
the  doctrine  of  self-preservation.  It  is  a  phenomenon. 
Charlie  Smith  tells  this  story  of  our  genial  friend, 
Mr.  G.  N.  Monro,  of  Pittsburg,  who  has  hunted  in 
this  region: 

Two  years  ago  a  party  very  much  like  ours  was  pass- 
ing through  that  same  jack  pine  jungle.  Mr.  Monro 
and  Mack  Norboe  were  ahead,  and  as  usual,  some  fool- 
hens  were  scared  up.  One  alighted  in  a  tree  near  the 
tenderfoot,  who  very  naturally  became  fired  with  a  desire 
to  possess  it. 

"Stop,  Mack,  stop!"  said  Mr.  Monro.  "Get  my 
shot-gun  out  of  the  wagon,  quickly." 

"  What  d'ye  want  it  for?  "  asked  Mack  in  his  sepul- 
chral voice. 


11     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

"To  shoot  this  grouse!  Look  there!  don't  you 
see  it?  " 

"  Yes,  I  see  it.    Do  you  really  want  that  bird?  " 

"  Want  it?  Of  course  I  want  it!  Get  my  gun,  quick, 
before  it  flies." 

"  Oh,  well,  if  you  want  it,  I'll  get  it  for  you,"  said 
Mack.  Dismounting,  he  picked  up  a  small  club,  threw 
it  at  the  bird,  at  very  short  range,  and  hit  the  mark.  The 
bird  fell  dead;  whereupon  Mack  calmly  picked  it  up, 
and  handed  it  up  to  Mr.  Monro,  saying  indififerently, 
*'  Here  it  is." 

"  And,"  said  Charlie,  "  you  ought  to  have  seen  the 
disgusted  look  on  Mr.  Monro's  face  as  he  looked  at 
Mack,  and  took  that  bird!  " 

I  skinned  the  finest  male  grouse  of  the  bunch  that 
Mr.  Phillips  shot.  It  was  seventeen  inches  in  total 
length,  tip  of  beak  to  end  of  tail,  with  a  wing-spread  of 
twenty-four  and  one-half  inches.  Its  crop  contained  a 
dessertspoonful  of  blueberries,  eight  blueberry  leaves 
and  six  needles  of  the  jack  pine.  The  species  could  not 
be  called  plentiful  in  the  region  we  traversed.  From 
first  to  last  we  saw  about  thirty  birds,  always  in  green 
timber. 

About  two  hours  before  sunset  we  came  to  a  level 
meadow  of  a  hundred  acres,  heavily  set  in  rank  grass, 
and  lying  very  low.  Two  hay-stacks  towered  aloft  to  a 
height  of  about  seven  feet,  and  from  them  it  was  evident 
that  we  were  on  the  "  ranch  "  of  Wild-Cat  Charlie,  at 
the  Sulphur  Spring.  We  pulled  up  the  steep  ridge  that 
bounded  the  meadow  on  the  west,  and  went  into  camp 


IN    THE    VALLEY    OF    ELK    RIVER  23 

on  its  summit.  Elk  River  flows  by  the  western  foot  of 
the  ridge,  and  across  the  meadow,  half  a  mile  eastward, 
is  the  already  famous  Sulphur  Spring. 

If  you  don't  know  about  the  Spring,  and  sleep  on  the 
ridge  with  a  strange  man  in  your  tent,  and  the  wind 
blowing  from  the  east,  you  will  be  horrified  by  the  dis- 
covery (as  Charlie  Smith  once  was)  that  the  stranger 
is  far  on  the  way  toward  decomposition. 

On  our  day's  journey  up,  we  saw  twenty  bluebirds,  a 
pigeon-hawk  {Falco  columbarius)  and  a  golden  eagle. 


CHAPTER    III 

A  GOLDEN  DAY  ON   FORDING  RIVER 

A  Bath  in  the  Sulphur  Spring — A  Ride  to  Fording  River — Cut-Throat 
Trout  galore — Josephine  Falls — Evening  over  the  Elk  Valley. 

Reader,  did  you  ever  have  a  day  of  ideal  trout-fishing, 
in  a  rushing  mountain  stream?  I  hope  you  have,  for  if 
so  it  leaves  that  much  less  to  desire.  It  is  good  to  have 
one  fling  at  a  fine  thing,  even  though  the  day  and  the 
hour  never  return. 

In  Elk  River,  below  the  Sulphur  Spring  there  is  no 
extra-fine  fishing,  for  the  reason  that  the  accessibility  of 
the  stream  has  caused  the  biggest  fish  to  disappear  via 
the  short  line.  So  Charlie  Smith  planned  that  we  should 
make  a  trip  for  trout  over  to  Fording  River,  partly,  as 
he  phrased  it,  "  to  break  the  director  in  gradually,  before 
we  get  into  the  high  mountains."  In  New  York  I 
hunted  long  for  rubber-bodied  may-flies,  and  I  carried 
a  rod  and  reel  twenty-five  hundred  miles  for  one  day  on 
Fording  River;  but  that  day  was  worth  it! 

When  we  made  camp  on  the  ridge,  the  wind  was 
easterly,  and  there  poured  across  that  meadow,  and  up 
over  the  ridge,  a  wave  of  sulphuretted  hydrogen  that 
plainly  told  us  we  had  arrived  at  the  Sulphur  Spring. 

Forthwith  Mr.  Phillips  bade  me  prepare  to  bathe. 


A   GOLDEN    DAY   ON    FORDING    RIVER      25 

and  follow  him.  To  bathe  in  that  awful  hole  was  the 
regular  thing  to  do;  so  we  sadly  tramped  across  the 
meadow  to  the  foot  of  the  mountain-ridge  that  rises  from 
its  eastern  side;  and  there  we  found  the  Spring. 

At  the  edge  of  the  grass  lay  a  pale-green  pool,  eighty 
feet  long,  forty  feet  wide,  and  in  the  deepest  place  about 
twelve  feet  deep.  The  water  was  very  clear,  except 
where  a  metallic  scum  floated  upon  the  surface,  and  the 
bottom  looked  like  corroded  copper.  For  a  bath  it  was 
the  most  uncanny-looking  proposition  I  ever  encoun- 
tered; and  I  have  bathed  with  alligators,  gavials  and 
sharks,  more  than  once.  The  bottom  looked  most  unsatis- 
factory; but  being  unable  to  make  or  to  mend  it,  we  dis- 
robed,— very  slowly  and  reluctantly  it  seemed  to  me, — 
and  prepared  to  take  our  medicine. 

It  was  necessary  to  cross  one  end  of  the  pool,  on  two 
villainous  saplings  which  tried  hard  to  throw  us  down; 
and  the  sharp  stones  on  the  hinterland  cut  our  bare  feet 
most  exquisitely.  John  bravely  led  the  way  into  the  hor- 
rid hole,  and  when  I  followed,  the  warmth  of  the  water 
proved  unexpectedly  grateful  and  comforting.  The  tem- 
perature was  about  72  degrees,  except  where  the  water 
streamed  up  out  of  the  ground,  and  there  it  must  have 
been  about  90  degrees.  In  a  few  minutes  we  became 
hardened  to  the  powerful  yellow  fumes  which  lay  like 
a  blanket  on  the  surface  of  the  pool,  and  then  the  bath 
became  really  enjoyable, — all  but  the  bottom.  The  slime 
in  which  we  stood,  whenever  we  ceased  to  swim,  was 
neither  nice  nor  tidy,  and  so  we  swam  as  much  as  pos- 
sible.    In  the  centre  of  the  pool,  where  the  water  was 


26     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

dark,  and  one  could  not  see  the  bottom,  I  tried  to  meas- 
ure its  depth,  but  found  it  far  over  my  head. 

Already  this  spring  is  locally  famous  for  its  healing 
properties  as  applied  to  rheumatism.  Close  beside  the 
pool,  on  the  ridge  side,  stood  a  little  seven-by-nine  log 
cabin  v^ith  a  yawning  fireplace  at  the  farther  end.  Along 
the  north  side  of  the  cabin  extended  a  seven-foot  trough, 
dug  out  of  a  big  spruce  log,  with  a  cavity  large  enough 
to  contain  a  man.  This  was  the  outfit  of  an  old  trapper 
who  had  been  afflicted  with  rheumatism,  and  spent  a 
winter  here,  treating  himself  with  commendable  dili- 
gence and  hot  sulphur  water.  When  it  was  too  cold  to 
bathe  in  the  pool  he  filled  his  log  bath-tub  with  sulphur- 
water,  heated  it  with  hot  stones  from  his  fire,  then  got 
in  and  loafed  and  invited  his  soul  at  90  degrees  or  more. 
A  hundred  feet  farther  south  stood  another  and  a  bet- 
ter cabin  in  which  my  guide,  philosopher  and  friend, 
Charlie  Smith,  lived  for  three  months  last  spring  while 
he  cured  his  rheumatism, — at  least  temporarily. 

Some  day  in  the  near  future,  this  spot  will  be  ruined 
forever  by  the  erection  on  the  ridge  of  a  modern  Hot 
Springs  Hotel,  with  electric  lights,  telephones,  lobster 
salad  and  starched  linen.  Therefore  I  am  glad  that  we 
have  gambolled  in  the  Sulphur  Spring  in  all  its  primitive 
rawness,  and  that  Mr.  Phillips  shot  a  coyote  from  the 
edge  of  it  immediately  after  our  bath.  Our  men  came 
out  from  camp  to  carry  in  a  deer,  and  had  the  disappoint- 
ment been  caused  by  any  one  else  than  the  patron  saint  of 
Elk  River,  uncanny  things  might  have  been  said. 

Charlie  Smith  and  Mack  Norboe  assured  me  that 


A   GOLDEN    DAY   ON    FORDING    RIVER      ay 

when  the  wind  is  easterly,  the  odor  of  the  Sulphur  Spring 
can  plainly  be  detected  at  the  top  of  the  mountain  on  the 
western  side  of  Elk  River,  fully  three  miles  away. 

From  our  camp  in  the  Elk  Valley,  Fording  River 
lies  eastward,  beyond  a  mountain  and  miles  away.  Mr. 
Phillips  and  Mack  Norboe  set  out  to  walk  to  the  fishing- 
place,  in  order  to  hunt  on  the  way,  for  mule  deer.  We 
were  to  meet  at  noon  at  Josephine  Falls.  Charlie  and  I 
rode,  in  order  to  have  horses  on  which  to  carry  home 
the  fish. 

We  entered  the  meadow,  and  rode  north  the  entire 
length  of  it,  to  where  it  terminates  in  a  beautiful  park- 
like tract  of  scattered  spruces  and  pines.  Then  we 
climbed  the  easterly  ridge,  up  through  an  open  growth 
of  more  pines  and  spruces,  birch  and  quaking  asp,  up 
and  up,  for  at  least  a  thousand  feet.  After  a  long  ride 
on  the  ridge  side  and  over  its  northern  crest,  we  entered 
an  awful  tangle  of  fallen  timber  and  brush.  We  wound 
to  and  fro,  up  and  down,  to  find  a  practicable  route  for 
the  horses.  That  the  faithful  animals  did  not  break 
their  legs  was  a  source  of  wonderment,  and  their  skill 
in  getting  over  tree-trunks  without  accident  was  really 
remarkable. 

At  last  we  reached  the  edge  of  the  plateau  we  had 
painfully  crossed,  and  saw  below  us  a  deep  and  narrow 
valley,  with  a  very  steep  pitch  downward.  On  its  far- 
ther side  were  shaly  perpendicular  bluflfs,  rising  high. 
Fortunately  the  ground  was  soft,  and  we  were  able  to 
ride  down  with  little  difficulty.  The  descent  seemed 
endlesSj  but  we  zigzagged  lower  and  lower  until  at  last 


28     CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

we  reached  the  bushes  and  cobble-stones  which  indicated 
the  bottom  of  the  valley. 

At  its  widest,  the  valley  was  only  about  seventy-five 
feet  wide,  and  about  half  of  it  was  occupied  by  the  swiftly 
racing  stream.  Three  hundred  yards  above  oiir  landing- 
place,  a  cataract,  about  thirty  feet  high  by  fifty  feet  wide, 
poured  a  torrent  of  foam  down  a  series  of  ragged  steps 
worn  in  the  edge  of  a  thick  bed  of  decomposing  shale. 
The  incline  was  about  60  degrees,  and  the  volume  of 
water  churned  itself  into  froth  the  moment  it  made  its 
first  plunge.  On  the  south  side  of  the  falls  the  shale 
steps  offer  a  very  good  footway  to  the  top. 

This  picturesque  waterfall  was  discovered  by  Pro- 
fessor Henry  F.  Osborn  and  his  family,  only  three  weeks 
previous  to  our  visit,  and  named  in  honor  of  Miss  Jose- 
phine Osborn,  a  sweet  maid  in  her  teens,  who  caught  the 
largest  trout  thus  far  recorded  from  that  spot.  During 
the  two  days'  stay  of  the  Osborn  family  in  that  romantic 
spot,  they  had  the  novel  pleasure  of  feeding  bread  from 
their  luncheon  to  a  small  flock  of  harlequin  ducks  that 
were  disporting  in  the  pool  at  the  foot  of  the  falls. 

There  are  two  other  falls  a  short  distance  above 
Josephine  Falls,  but  we  did  not  take  timQ.to  visit  them. 

But  the  fishing!  Do  not  think,  patient  Reader,  that 
we  lost  any  time  after  our  arrival  in  looking  at  scenery 
of  any  kind.  It  seemed  to  me,  however,  that  many  pre- 
cious moments  were  wasted  in  getting  out  our  fly-books, 
and  reels,  and  in  putting  things  together. 

"  Try  a  cast  in  there,"  said  Charlie,  indicating  a 
section  of  the  stream  where  the  swift  current  was  all 


Trout   Fishing  at  Josephine   Falls 


A   GOLDEN    DAY   ON    FORDING    RIVER      29 

crowded  together  at  the  farther  side,  and  went  rushing 
against  the  rock  wall  at  the  rate  of  ten  miles  an  hour. 

I  threw  my  fly  upon  the  racing  water,  and  let  it  ride 
downstream,  bobbing  up  and  down  on  the  waves.  The 
first  cast  went  for  nothing,  but  in  the  next,  the  fly  had 
not  ridden  more  than  half-way  down  when  there  was  a 
golden-yellow  flash  across  the  current,  a  rush,  and  a 
greedy  pull  on  the  line. 

''There!  You've  got  one  already!"  cried  Charlie. 
"  Be  careful,  and  don't  let  your  line  slacken!  " 

The  first  trout!  It  was  a  thrilling  moment.  My 
blood  seemed  to  be  suddenly  set  back  about  twenty  years. 
With  every  new  tug  on  the  end  of  the  rod  my  fingers 
tingled  as  if  I  held  the  poles  of  an  electric  battery.  It 
w^as  a  new  thing  to  hook  a  big  fish  and  see  it,  every 
instant. 

I  was  too  anxious  to  land  my  first  fish  for  any  in- 
dulgence in  exhibition  play.  The  trout  rushed  in  many 
directions,  mostly  upstream  on  the  bias,  or  across,  for  I 
gave  him  no  chance  to  run  down.  As  he  turned  half 
over  in  rushing  away  from  my  side  of  the  stream,  the  sun 
caught  his  golden  side  and  lit  it  up  gloriously.  How 
fine  he  did  look! 

With  as  little  delay  as  possible  I  reeled  him  in  and 
swung  him  shoreward  until  Charlie  was  able  to  reach 
out,  and  land  him  fairly  upon  the  clean  cobble-stones.  He 
was  a  Cut-Throat  Trout  {Salmo  clarkii)  better  named 
Black-Spotted  Trout,  but  by  people  of  this  region  known 
as  "  Dolly-Varden  "  Trout.  The  upper  half  of  the  body 
is  of  a  pale  golden-yellow  color,  dotted  all  over  from 


30     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

upper  lip  to  tail  tip  with  small  elliptical  black  spots  that 
stand  vertically.  The  lower  half  of  the  body  is  suffused 
with  a  warm  sunset  glow  of  pinkish  color,  while  the 
under  surface  is  silvery  white.  The  lower  edge  of  each 
membrane  covering  the  gills,  under  the  head,  looks  as 
if  a  painter  had  given  each  side  a  stroke  with  a  paint- 
brush charged  with  rose-madder,  making  a  red  V;  and 
from  this  "  effect,"  suggesting  a  cut  throat,  has  come  the 
gruesome  English  name  by  which  this  fish  is  known  to 
the  great  majority  of  its  acquaintances.  The  real  Dolly- 
Varden  Trout  is  a  charr  (Salvelinus  parkei)^  closely 
related  to  the  spotted  brook-trout,  with  a  much  more 
pointed  head,  light  spots  instead  of  dark,  and  only  one- 
fourth  as  many  of  them  as  the  Cut-Throat.  Both  species, 
however,  inhabit  the  mountain-streams  of  the  Pacific 
slope  from  California  and  Montana  to  Alaska. 

But  all  this  while  we  lost  no  time  in  moralizing  over 
the  exact  scientific  status  and  affinities  of  our  first  fish. 
From  start  to  finish  it  was  a  wild  revel.  I  soon  became 
so  set  up  with  four  or  five  big  fish  that  I  refused  to 
engage  any  small  fry.  Whenever  I  saw  a  small  fish  dart 
toward  my  fly,  I  snatched  it  away  from  him,  and  angled 
for  his  betters.  Whenever  by  any  untoward  accident  a 
one-pound  fish  took  the  hook  in  spite  of  me,  we  landed 
him  without  loss  of  time,  took  the  hook  from  his  lip,  and 
with  an  admonition  never  to  do  so  any  more  until  he  got 
big,  gently  dropped  him  back  home. 

The  Cut-Throat  Trout  is,  after  all,  a  dainty  biter. 
Although  he  takes  an  imitation  may-fly  swiftly,  and  even 
joyously,  he  does  not  greedily  gulp  it  far  down  into  his 


A   GOLDEN    DAY   ON    FORDING    RIVER      31 

anatomy,  and  make  all  kinds  of  trouble.  He  seizes  with 
his  lips  only,  not  his  throat;  and  almost  invariably  the 
hook  is  found  holding  feebly  in  his  lip.  This  scanty  hold 
requires  much  care  in  playing  the  fish,  and  a  line  con- 
stantly taut,  to  keep  the  hook  in  its  place.  With  the  least 
carelessness,  away  goes  the  fish.  It  also  makes  it  easy  to 
remove  a  fish  that  is  too  small,  and  put  it  back  in  the 
stream  as  good  as  new.  One  fly  lasts  a  long  time,  and  is 
good  for  at  least  three  or  four  fish  of  approved  size. 

While  the  fun  was  at  its  height,  and  we  had  five  fine 
fish  to  the  good,  Mr.  Phillips  and  Mack  Norboe  joined 
us,  ready  and  eager  for  the  fray.  John  quickly  devel- 
oped his  rod,  reeved  the  line  home  and  bent  on  a  fly. 
With  the  first  cast,  above  my  fishing-place,  he  hooked 
and  landed  a  fine  fish,  and  in  less  than  three  minutes  had 
landed  four  more! 

Then  he  paused,  turned  to  his  admiring  audience 
with  a  guilty  laugh,  and  exclaimed, 

"  This  is  nothing  but  slaughter!  " 

Truly  it  was.  The  fish  struck  as  fast  as  he  could 
throw  in  his  line  and  haul  them  out.  We  both  paused 
to  consider,  for  every  man  in  our  party  believed  in  the 
policy  of  stopping  at  "  enough."  We  had  ten  fish,  and 
our  limit  was  forthwith  fixed  at  fifteen  for  the  two  days 
that  six  men  would  be  trying  to  consume  them. 

We  scrambled  along  the  rocks  up  to  Josephine  Falls, 
and  I  determined  to  have  a  try  in  the  boiling  caldron  at 
the  foot  of  the  cataract,  to  see  if  trout  could  see  to  take 
a  fly  in  such  white  water.  It  was  no  trouble  to  get  a 
good  position  on  the  shale  steps  close  beside  the  foot  of 


32     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

the  torrent,  where  the  facilities  for  fly-casting  were  of 
the  best. 

I  threw  into  the  caldron,  many  times,  reaching  every 
yard  of  its  surface,  but  got  only  one  really  good  fish. 
Then  Mr.  Phillips  yelled  to  Charlie,  and  above  the  roar 
of  the  falls,  Charlie  passed  it  on  to  me. 

"  He  wants  to  take  you  taking  out  the  fish  I  Hold  on 
a  minute!  " 

"Tell  him  to  hurry!" 

The  trout  fought  gamely,  and  never  gave  up  for  an 
instant.  John  worked  with  his  camera,  and  I  with  the 
fish,  to  hold  my  game  for  the  desired  moment, — but  all 
the  time  fearing  that  it  would  get  away.  At  last  the 
expected  happened.  My  line  suddenly  slackened,  and 
communicated  to  my  nerve-centres  the  sickening  sensa- 
tion that  when  written  out  spells  "  lost!  " 

A  little  later  I  hooked  another  and  a  smaller  fish, 
and  John  fired  when  he  was  ready;  but  the  result  is  not 
good  to  look  upon.  The  fewer  snap-shots  that  are  made 
of  a  one-hundred-and-eighty-pound  man,  dressed  decol- 
lete, who  is  really  fishing  or  hunting,  the  better;  for  they 
are  apt  to  be  the  reverse  of  picturesque,  and  seldom  show 
the  victim  to  any  advantage. 

For  the  Cut-Throat  Trout  the  pool  at  the  foot  of 
Josephine  Falls  is  the  head  of  navigation.  Charlie  Smith 
says  there  are  no  trout  above.  I  saw  individuals  trying 
to  leap  up  the  falls,  but  they  did  not  rise  more  than  four 
or  five  feet  out  of  the  water.  It  would  take  an  Atlantic 
salmon  eight  feet  long,  with  horse-power  to  match  his 
size,  to  overleap  that  fall. 


The   Pack-Train   Leaving  Sulphur  Spring  Camp 


A   GOLDEN    DAY   ON    FORDING    RIVER      ^3 

At  one  o'clock  we  camped  on  the  bank,  amid  clean 
rocks  and  bushes,  with  an  abundance  of  drinking-water 
close  by,  and  ate  our  luncheon.  Some  one  suggested  broil- 
ing a  couple  of  trout;  and  for  appearance's  sake  I  would 
like  to  record  the  fact  that  we  did  so.  It  would  have  been 
the  regular  thing  to  do;  but  I  must  tell  the  truth.  The 
fact  is,  we  were  all  too  much  overcome  with  the  languor 
of  lotus-eaters  to  do  more  than  think  about  it.  In  other 
words,  we  were  too  lazy  to  clean  the  fish,  and  broil  them 
properly.  There  was  plenty  of  luncheon,  the  sunshine 
was  gloriously  inviting,  the  river  was  like  a  dream,  its  roar 
was  soothing  music, — and  what  more  would  you  have! 

After  a  quiet  hour,  we  sprang  up,  eager  for  the  re- 
mainder of  our  quota  of  fish.  We  tried  the  stream  for 
"  big  ones,"  but  from  the  falls  down  to  the  first  still 
water  we  got  not  a  single  rise.  The  strife  between  us 
was  not  merely  to  catch  fish,  and  land  them,  but  to  catch 
the  biggest  ones,  only,  and  avoid  hooking  the  small  fry. 
We  became  quite  expert  in  snatching  our  flies  away  from 
fish  that  were  too  small. 

Up  to  the  fourteenth  fish,  Mr.  Phillips  was  ahead  of 
me  on  size;  but  No.  15  came  to  my  fly,  and  finally  was 
landed  in  triumph.  It  measured  eighteen  inches,  beat- 
ing John's  largest  by  a  whole  eighth  of  an  inch.  Later 
on,  however,  I  remembered  that  he  did  the  measuring, 
and  I  will  always  have  grave  doubts  about  the  actual  exist- 
ence of  that  eighth.  I  fear  the  steel  tape  slipped  in  my 
favor.  At  all  events,  that  fish  weighed  two  pounds  four 
ounces;  and  we  all  joyously  guessed  far  above  its  weight. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  flesh  of  the  Cut-Throat 


34     CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

Trout,  as  we  found  it,  is  hard,  juicy,  and  delicious.  How 
could  it  be  otherwise?  It  is  a  pity,  however,  that  this 
fish  is  so  easily  taken,  for  gullibility  in  game  always 
spells  early  disappearance.  It  would  be  better  all  around 
if  the  fish  were  more  shy  and  persistent,  for  few  men  have 
the  iron  resolution  to  halt  at  the  fifteenth  or  twentieth 
fish,  and  take  the  long  trail  back. 

In  returning,  there  was  no  such  thing  as  riding  our 
horses  up  the  terrific  hill  which  led  to  the  plateau.  We 
scrambled  up  on  foot,  rest  by  rest,  and  were  fairly  glad 
to  reach  the  top.  Only  an  iron  horse  could  carry  a  man 
or  woman  up  that  slope. 

As  we  rode  home,  the  view  over  the  valley  of  the  Elk, 
and  into  the  lofty  mountains  beyond,  was  fairly  entranc- 
ing. The  level  valley, — it  seemed  level,  from  that  lofty 
height, — was  laid  out  in  patterns  of  dense  green  timber, 
gray  dead  timber,  and  yellow-green  meadow,  with  a  sil- 
ver serpent  of  river  winding  gracefully  to  and  fro.  Be- 
yond all  this  a  great  bank  of  mountains  loomed  darkly 
into  the  evening  sky.  A  smoky  haze,  which  softened  the 
outlines  of  both  valley  and  mountain,  was  pierced  at  one 
point  by  a  column  of  smoke  from  burning  timber.  Even 
while  we  looked  with  great  enjoyment  upon  this  fasci- 
nating and  restful  picture,  we  saw  under  the  smoke  the 
bright  gleam  of  fire;  and  a  moment  later,  a  one-hundred- 
foot  spruce-tree  suddenly  became  enveloped  in  flames. 
The  blaze  quickly  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  leafy  spire, 
burned  brightly  for  a  minute, — a  veritable  pillar  of  fire, 
— then  died  down  and  glowed  dully  against  the  dark 
shadows  that  lay  beyond. 


CHAPTER    IV 

TRAVEL  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS 

"House-Roof  Mountains" — Making  Up  Packs — When  Charlie  Threw 
Down  his  Pack — Valley  Thoroughfares — Green  Timber — Down 
Timber — Trail-Cutting — Berries  of  the  Mountains. 

In  the  matter  of  mountain  travel,  be  it  remembered 
that  there  are  mountains  and  mountains.  In  some  of 
them,  valleys  of  comfortable  width  and  openness  are  a 
kind  of  habit.  Others  have  a  bad  way  of  bringing  you 
up  against  the  rocky  nose  of  an  overhanging  cliff,  and 
taking  toll  from  your  nerves  or  your  muscles  before  your 
pack-train  is  safely  by.  In  some,  you  are  eternally  fight- 
ing with  timber,  brush,  and  decaying  moss-covered  forest 
debris.  By  reason  of  its  hot-house  atmosphere  and  rains, 
I  believe  the  mountains  of  Borneo  are  to  the  climber  the 
most  exhausting  of  all  on  earth. 

Some  mountains  seem  morally  upright  and  fair,  while 
others,  despite  their  heights,  are  actually  mean.  Some 
give  the  hunter  a  fair  reward  for  much  hard  labor,  but 
others  tantalize  him  into  wearing  out  his  soul  for  naught. 
Think  of  seeing  twenty-one  bears  in  twenty  days,  without 
being  able  to  get  a  shot  at  one!  (This  by  reason  of  snow- 
bent  willows  on  the  slides.)  It  is  not  all  of  hunting  to 
kill  game;  and  why  should  one  hunt  in  mean  mountains, 
monotonous  forests  or  water-soaked  plains! 

35 


26     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

In  our  little  corner  of  British  Columbia,  the  heights 
are  of  the  kind  which  may  best  be  described  as  house- 
roof  mountains.  They  are  cleanly  cut,  they  rise  very 
steeply  and  have  very  narrow  valleys.  Often  they  ter- 
minate at  the  top  in  sharp  knife-edges,  and  fairly  bristle 
with  peaks  and  precipices.  In  them,  travel  by  pack-train 
means  creeping  up  or  down  the  narrow  valleys  until  a 
crossable  divide  is  found.  Travel  on  foot,  especially  in 
hunting,  always  means  hard  climbing,  either  up  or  down. 
In  hunting,  you  climb  up  a  long  and  steep  acclivity,  hop- 
ing for  a  restful  table-land  at  the  top,  only  to  find  the 
summit  a  chisel's  edge  terminating  at  either  end  against 
a  sheer  precipice.  Usually  the  other  side  of  every  ridge 
is  worse  than  the  first,  dropping  down  into  a  great  basin, 
so  fast  and  so  far  that  you  halt  dismayed  at  the  thought 
of  going  down  to  the  bottom,  and  climbing  back  again 
before  nightfall.  With  the  Columbian  Rockies,  famil- 
iarity breeds  anything  but  contempt. 

All  the  valleys  that  we  saw  in  the  mountains  between 
the  Elk  and  the  Bull  were  very  narrow,  and  difficult  to 
traverse.  Take  a  small  postal  card,  bend  it  along  the 
middle  into  a  right  angle,  and  you  will  have,  if  you  set 
it  up  on  the  apex  of  the  angle,  a  very  fair  representation 
in  miniature  of  the  mountain-slopes  in  the  goat  moun- 
tains, and  the  width  of  the  valleys  between  them.  There 
are  many  places  where  the  valleys  between  high  moun- 
tains are  not  over  fifty  feet  wide  at  the  bottom,  and  above 
that  you  work  hard  for  every  foot  that  you  win. 

In  nine  miles  out  of  every  ten,  the  mountain-sides  are 
so  steep,  or  so  badly  enmeshed   in  down   timber,   that 


TRAVEL    IN    THE    MOUNTAINS  37 

horses  cannot  travel  along  them  without  exhausting 
labor.  It  is  therefore  a  fixed  line  of  action  that  when- 
ever a  laden  pack-train  is  seeking  to  cover  distance  it 
must  stick  to  the  bottoms  of  the  valleys;  and  when  it 
climbs  a  steep  ascent,  it  is  either  to  surmount  a  pass,  or 
to  avoid  an  obstruction. 

The  ascent  of  Goat  Creek  to  its  source  may  well  be 
taken  as  an  example  of  travel  by  pack-train  in  the  moun- 
tains of  British  Columbia. 

For  farm  wagons,  the  Sulphur  Spring  is  at  present 
the  head  of  navigation,  and  on  the  morning  after  our  day 
on  Fording  River  our  pack-train  was  regularly  made  up. 
In  rugged  mountains,  the  proper  making  up  of  the  load 
for  each  horse  is  a  matter  which  no  packer  can  make 
light  of.  Charlie,  Mack  and  John  spent  a  long  hour  in 
overhauling  our  freight,  weighing  sections  of  it  on  my 
game-scales,  and  parcelling  out  the  loads.  They  accepted 
"  air-tights "  nailed  up  in  their  original  packages,  with  a 
cheerfulness  that  spoke  volumes  for  their  experience.  I 
never  before  saw  such  an  array  of  heavy  wooden  boxes 
put  upon  six  horses  with  such  supreme  indifference. 
And  I  never  before  saw  six  packs  made  up  and  cinched 
with  so  little  fuss.  The  work  the  horses  did  during  the 
next  four  weeks  in  carrying  those  packs  was  really  very 
severe,  and  to  the  credit  of  "  the  boys  "  I  must  record 
the  fact  that  not  once  did  a  load  cause  trouble;  not  a 
single  breakable  object  was  broken;  and  above  all,  no 
horse  was  punished  by  a  sore  back. 

The  foundation  principle  in  making  up  packs  is  to 
class  things  according  to  their  genera  and  species,  and 


38     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

make  each  load  as  homogeneous  as  possible.  For  in- 
stance, they  did  not  load  a  horse  with  a  bed-roll  on  one 
side  and  canned  goods  on  the  other.  Dead  weight  on 
one  side  calls  for  similar  weight  on  the  other,  and  bulk 
demands  bulk.  The  diamond  hitch  with  its  cutting  ropes 
was  not  employed,  every  load  being  provided  with  broad 
girths  made  especially  for  packs.  In  making  up  a  pack- 
train,  Charlie  Smith  is  a  past  master,  but  the  Norboes 
also  are  very  skilful  at  it. 

Just  above  our  Sulphur  Spring  Camp,  we  passed  the 
cabin  of  a  lame  and  solitary  but  cheerful  German  rancher 
named  Wild-Cat  Charlie.  When  we  passed  his  estab- 
lishment, he  was  absent,  making  hay;  and  on  his  cabin- 
door  hung  a  large  padlock. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  this  is  the  first  lock  I  have  ever 
seen  on  a  ranchman's  door  in  the  wild  West." 

"  Oh,  pshaw!  That's  all  bluff,"  Charlie  Smith  hast- 
ened to  say.  "  He  locks  his  door,  because  he  is  proud 
of  having  the  only  padlock  in  the  Valley;  but  he  tells 
everybody  where  he  keeps  the  key.  There  it  is, — on  that 
nail." 

It  is  known  that  Wild-Cat  Charlie  is  no  great  reader, 
and  is  wellnigh  destitute  of  books  and  papers.  Our 
men  are  constantly  wondering  what  he  thinks  about, — or 
whether  he  thinks  at  all, — during  the  fearfully  long  win- 
ter evenings,  as  he  sits  by  his  fire  and  smokes.  Although 
somewhat  cranky,  he  is  very  hospitable,  and  many  a 
half-frozen  trapper  has  had  occasion  to  bless  the  wel- 
coming hand  and  warm  fireside  to  be  found  at  "  Wild- 
Cat  Charlie's." 


Fording   Elk    River 

The  trees  on   the  bank   are  Jack  pines.       One  spruce  on  tlie  extreme  right. 


TRAVEL    IN    THE    MOUNTAINS  39 

And  this  reminds  me  of  the  story  our  Charlie  and 
Mack  told  me,  jointly,  of  their  forced  march  in  the  dead 
of  winter,  from  Bull  River,  thirty  miles  over  two  ranges 
of  mountains,  and  down  Goat  Creek  through  deep  snow, 
all  in  one  day. 

"  That,"  said  Charlie,  "  was  the  only  time  I  ever  threw 
down  my  pack;  but  I  surely  threw  it  down  that  night, 
and  only  two  miles  from  the  Dutchman's  cabin.  For 
the  last  two  hours  of  that  tramp  I  walked  just  like  a 
wooden  machine.  I  was  all  the  time  afraid  I  would  fall 
down',  for  I  knew  that  as  sure  as  I  did,  I  couldn't  get 
up  I  Cold?  It  was  forty  below  zero,  and  we  hadn't  had 
any  too  much  to  eat,  either.  At  last  I  did  throw  away 
my  pack,  and  when  we  finally  got  to  Charlie's  cabin,  I 
was  the  worst  played-out  I  ever  was  in  my  whole  life. 
I  couldn't  have  gone  another  mile,  not  to  have  saved  my 
own  life." 

For  about  three  miles  from  Wild-Cat  Charlie's  cabin, 
along  the  west  bank  of  the  Elk,  we  jogged  on  northward 
at  a  rapid  pace.  At  last  we  reached  the  mouth  of  a  creek 
that  came  brawling  down  from  the  goat  country.  It  was 
Goat  Creek;  and  turning  into  its  narrow  valley,  the 
climb  to  the  summits  began. 

In  that  country  it  is  no  uncommon  thing  for  a  moun- 
tain stream  to  drop  at  the  rate  of  three  hundred  feet  to 
the  mile.  Often  the  descent  is  even  more  than  that.  As 
a  rule,  you  do  not  realize  how  much  you  are  climbing 
until  you  reach  the  source  of  the  trouble  and  start  down. 
You  climb  up  slowly,  with  constant  meanderings,  and 
cannot  gauge  the  elevation  gained;  but  in  coming  down, 


40     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

with  your  seven-league  boots  on,  you  can  better  judge 
of  the  situation  as  a  whole.  Near  the  end  of  the  trip  I 
was  part  of  a  striking  illustration  of  this  strange  fact. 

Our  first  half-day's  travel  up  that  steep  mountain- 
groove  was  spent  chiefly  on  the  northern  slope.  There 
were  long  stretches  of  "  green  timber," — which  means 
living  coniferous  timber,  green  all  the  year  round.  In 
it  the  ground  was  covered  with  a  velvet  carpet  of  brown 
needles,  and  ornamented  with  a  setting  of  thimbleberry 
bushes  bearing  bright  crimson  berries.  There  were 
thousands  of  slender,  open-topped  currant  bushes  bear- 
ing scattered  clusters  of  jet-black  currants,  bitter  to  the 
taste  but  good  to  allay  mouth-dryness  and  thirst.  The 
trees  are  mostly  the  Canadian  white  spruce  (Picea  Engel- 
manni)  and  the  jack  pine,  with  a  sprinkling  of  balsam, 
juniper,  quaking  asp  and  larch.  Throughout  that  whole 
region  the  deciduous  trees  are  so  few  that  they  are  very 
inconspicuous,  and  those  which  do  exist  are  mostly 
mere  bushes. 

In  the  green  timber  the  soft  ground  is  very  restful  to 
feet  that  are  dead  tired  from  the  ankle-strain  of  rugged 
slide-rock.  The  aroma  of  the  coniferous  foliage  is  both 
grateful  and  comforting,  but  the  best  hunting-grounds 
for  large  game  animals  are  found  elsewhere.  No  won- 
der that  in  past  years  the  Indians  occasionally  set  fire  to 
the  forests,  and  burned  out  great  areas  in  order  to  let  in 
the  sunlight,  grow  grass  and  create  good  feeding-grounds 
— and  also  hunting-grounds, — for  hoofed  animals. 

But  the  beautiful  and  all-embracing  "  green  timber" 
has  its  habitants.    Its  resinous  shadows  envelop  and  shel- 


TRAVEL    IN    THE    MOUNTAINS  41 

ter  the  agile  lynx,  the  sinister  wolverine,  the  too-confiding 
marten,  the  prosy  porcupine,  the  busy  red  squirrel,  and 
an  occasional  wolf.  The  grizzly  and  the  black  bear  are 
transient  guests,  but  in  times  of  real  trouble,  no  wild 
creatures  value  green  timber  more  than  they.  The  elk 
and  deer  also  find  it  a  welcome  retreat. 

One  of  the  most  impressive  features  of  those  moun- 
tains is  the  sharpness  with  which  everything  is  deline- 
ated. The  different  elements  which  make  up  the  face  of 
Nature  are  not  always  softly  and  artistically  blended 
together,  as  a  skilful  artist  blends  the  color  boundaries 
on  his  canvas.  Each  patch  of  green  timber  is  as  sharply 
defined  at  its  edges  as  the  grounds  of  a  county  fair.  In 
one  step  you  leave  the  glaring  sunlight,  and  are  swal- 
lowed up  by  the  dark,  restful  shadows,  just  as  when  one 
steps  from  the  glare  and  stress  of  a  stone  pavement  into 
the  soothing  shadows  of  a  cloister.  By  one  step  you 
make  your  exit,  and  land  full  upon  the  angular  agonies 
of  slide-rock,  or  into  the  horizontal  terrors  of  "  down 
timber."  For  a  mile  or  more  a  creek  will  go  brawling 
noisily  over  its  bed  of  stones,  and  all  at  once  drop  entirely 
out  of  sight,  under  a  great  mass  of  slide-rock.  Down  the 
steep  mountain-side,  the  track  of  each  avalanche  is  cut  as 
clean  as  the  swath  of  a  mower  going  through  tall  grass. 

Even  timber-line  itself  is  not  half  so  long  drawn  out 
as  one  usually  sees  in  other  mountains.  There  is  no  diffi- 
culty in  drawing  a  contour  line  to  mark  it  out  on  your 
sketch. 

Throughout  our  mountains,  there  was  no  such  thing 
as  travelling  by  pack-train  without  a  cut-out  trail.    The 


42     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

down  timber  positively  forbade  it;  and  even  in  the  ever- 
green tracts  there  were  so  many  fallen  trees  that  it  was 
impossible  to  get  on  without  the  axe.  Had  we  at  any 
time  lost  both  our  axes,  our  horses  would  have  been  com- 
pelled to  turn  back  and  retrace  their  steps. 

A  loaded  pack-horse  can  step  over  any  log  that  is 
not  more  than  twenty-six  inches  from  the  ground,  but 
before  one  exceeding  that  height,  something  else  must  be 
done.  If  it  is  a  small  log,  the  trail-cutter  chops  a  three- 
foot  section  out  of  it,  or  cuts  it  in  two  in  order  that  the 
top  section  may  fall  down.  If  it  is  a  large  trunk,  the 
trail  must  go  around  it.  A  good  mountain-horse  can  get 
over  any  log  that  he  can  step  over  with  his  forelegs,  for 
with  his  forelegs  well  placed,  he  can  successfully  jump 
his  hindlegs  over. 

In  bad  down  timber,  like  that  of  lower  Avalanche 
Creek,  a  trail  takes  a  course  about  like  this,  beside  which 
chain  lightning  is  ruler-straight: 


If  anything  will  teach  a  man  patience,  a  bad  case  of 
down  timber  will  do  so.  There  is  no  use  in  fretting  over 
it;  and  swearing  at  it  is  the  height  of  folly.  The  secret 
of  such  navigation  lies  in  a  calm  determination  to  give 
the  horse  plenty  of  time,  and  "  stay  with  it."  To  hurry 
your  horses  is  to  invite  broken  legs, — a  thought  which 
will  promptly  cool  down  the  wildest  impatience. 

Naturally,  the  laying  out  of  a  trail  calls  for  a  quick 
eye  and  good  judgment  in  choosing  the  route  which  de- 


TRAVEL    IN    THE    MOUNTAINS  43 

mands  the  least  chopping,  and  that  does  not  tack  too 
often  nor  too  far.  As  the  axe-man  proceeds,  he  must 
mark  the  course  between  log-cuttings  by  lopping  off  a 
bush,  or  scalping  the  top  of  a  log  with  a  single  sweep  of 
his  axe  as  he  walks  along,  leaving  a  spot  of  clean,  bright 
wood. 

Where  conditions  are  not  too  severe,  men  like  our 
four  can  chop  out  a  trail  with  astonishing  rapidity;  but 
occasionally  they  encounter  long  stretches  of  down  tim- 
ber that  simply  "  break  their  hearts."  In  such  places  as 
lower  Avalanche  Creek,  there  is  nothing  to  do  but  to 
camp  and  chop. 

In  several  creeks  that  we  opened  up  to  our  pack- 
train,  we  found  old  Indian  trails,  some  of  which  helped 
us  very  much.  The  first  sign  of  such  a  trail  is  a  large 
bush  or  a  small  sapling  that  has  been  cut  down  by  many 
feeble  blows. 

"Squaw  hatchet!"  or  "Squaw  work!"  our  guides 
often  exclaimed,  pointing  to  a  stem  that  had  been  un- 
skilfully hacked  down.  A  white  man,  with  a  sharp  axe, 
cuts  down  with  one  or  two  clean  blows  a  sapling  that  a 
squaw  assaults  a  dozen  times  with  her  dull  hatchet  before 
it  falls. 

A  long  stretch  of  slide-rock  is  always  a  hard  road  for 
a  pack-train,  unless  a  good  trail  has  already  been  made 
across  it.  I  will  have  more  to  say  of  slide-rock  farther 
on,  but  in  entering  the  mountains  we  encountered  it, 
soon  and  plenty.  I  know  of  but  one  species  of  rock 
travel  that  is  worse  for  a  horse,  and  that  is  the  slippery, 
rounded  bowlders,  big  and  little,  that  so  often  underlie 


44     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE    CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

the  fording-placcs  of  mountain  rivers.  They  seem  spe- 
cially designed  to  break  horses'  legs,  and  the  only  way 
to  cheat  them  of  their  prey  is  by  permitting  the  horse  to 
creep  along,  feeling  cautiously  for  each  stepping-place. 

On  slide-rock,  the  rocks  are  horribly  angular,  sharp- 
edged  and  cruel,  and  occasionally  an  unshod  horse  leaves 
a  trail  of  blood  behind  him.  But  the  train  moves  straight 
forward,  even  though  its  progress  is  slow;  and  fortu- 
nately one  does  not  strike  miles  and  miles  of  continuous 
slide-rock. 

In  travelling  by  pack-train  through  rough  country, 
much  time  is  lost  by  deploying  to  pass  obstructions.  On 
Goat  Creek  we  sometimes  climbed  from  two  hundred  to 
four  hundred  feet  up  the  steep  mountain  in  order  to  pass 
above  a  sheer  bluff,  and  immediately  after  would  lose 
all  our  altitude  by  being  forced  to  drop  back  to  the  bot- 
tom of  the  valley.  When  thoroughly  tired,  such  diver- 
sions, in  climbing  up  only  to  climb  down  again,  seem  a 
sinful  waste  of  horse-power. 

Beyond  the  first  half-day's  travel  up  Goat  Creek, 
there  was  no  trail,  and  Charlie  and  the  Norboes  had  to 
cut  one  the  remainder  of  the  way  to  the  summit.  Mr. 
Phillips  and  I  elected  to  go  ahead  of  the  outfit,  hunting 
on  foot,  and  reach  the  camping-place  on  Goat  Pass  about 
the  same  time  as  the  others. 

At  the  point  where  we  were  to  leave  Smith  and  his 
axe,  we  halted  to  rest,  and  as  we  looked  about  for  places 
to  sit  down,  Charlie  exclaimed, 

"  Here  are  some  red  raspberries,  all  ripe  and  ready 
for  ye!" 


TRAVEL    IN   THE    MOUNTAINS  45 

It  was  indeed  true.  Over  a  space  as  large  as  a  New 
York  City  lot,  there  grew  a  scattering  cover  of  bushes 
a  foot  high,  bearing  red  raspberries,  fully  ripe,  and  de- 
licious. We  flung  ourselves  upon  them,  and  feasted.  I 
like  to  hunt  in  a  country  that  contains  something  in  the 
form  of  fruit,  nuts  or  berries  that  a  hungry  man  can  eat. 
In  the  tropics  it  is  seldom  indeed  that  one  finds  in  a  for- 
est any  of  these  wilderness  luxuries.  The  traveller  who 
cannot  live  by  his  gun  or  rod  must  carry  his  food  with 
him,  or  starve.  Beside  the  poverty-stricken  tropical  for- 
ests, the  forests  of  the  temperate  zone  are  rich  in  things 
edible  to  man.  Now  when  Charlie  and  I  went  on  that 
side  hunt  and  discovered  Josephine  Lake,  we  found  a 
whole  mountain-side  covered  with  delicious  huckle- 
berries, of  three  species,  upon  which  we  gratefully  fed. 
Had  there  been  a  grizzly  bear  "  among  those  present," 
he  would  have  stood  aghast  at  the  havoc  we  wrought. 


CHAPTER   V 

THE  MOUNTAIN  GOAT  AT  HOME 

Our  Welcome  to  Goatland — Three  Goats  Stampede  through  our 
Camp — A  Wild  Spot — Mountain  Color  on  a  Gray  Day — An  Early- 
Morning  Caller — Goats  at  Rest — How  Goats  Climb — Stalking 
Two  Big  Billies — Two  Goats  Killed — Measurements  and  Weight. 

John  Phillips  and  I  were  scrambling  along  the 
steep  and  rough  eastern  face  of  Bald  Mountain,  a  few 
yards  below  timber-line,  half-way  up  'twixt  creek  and 
summit.  He  was  light  of  weight,  well-seasoned  and 
nimble-footed;  I  was  heavy,  ill-conditioned,  and  hungry 
for  more  air.  Between  the  slide-rock,  down  timber  and 
brush,  the  going  had  been  undeniably  bad,  and  in  spite 
of  numerous  rests  I  was  almost  fagged. 

Far  below  us,  at  the  bottom  of  the  V-shaped  valley, 
the  horse-bell  faintly  tinkled,  and  as  Mack  and  Charlie 
whacked  out  the  trail,  the  pack-train  crept  forward.  We 
were  thankful  that  the  camping-place,  on  Goat  Pass,  was 
only  a  mile  beyond. 

Presently  we  heard  a  voice  faintly  shouting  to  us 
from  below. 

"  Look  above  you, — at  the  goatsl  " 

Hastily  we  moved  out  of  a  brush-patch,  and  looked 

aloft.     At  the  top  of  the  precipice  that  rose  above  our 

slope,   a  long,   irregular  line  of   living  forms   perched 

46 


THE    MOUNTAIN    GOAT    AT    HOME         47 

absurdly  on  the  sky-line,  and  looked  over  the  edge,  at 
us.  Quickly  we  brought  our  glasses  to  bear,  and  counted 
fourteen  living  and  wild  Rocky  Mountain  goats. 

"  All  nannies,  young  billies,  and  kids,"  said  Mr. 
Phillips.  "  They  are  trying  to  guess  what  kind  of  wild 
animals  we  are."  I  noticed  that  he  was  quite  calm;  but 
I  felt  various  things  which  seemed  to  sum  themselves 
up  in  the  formula, — "  the  Rocky  Mountain  goat, — at 
lastl'' 

For  fully  ten  minutes,  the  entire  fourteen  white  ones 
steadfastly  gazed  down  upon  us,  with  but  few  changes 
of  position,  and  few  remarks.  Finally,  one  by  one  they 
drew  back  from  the  edge  of  the  precipice,  and  quietly 
drifted  away  over  the  bald  crest  of  the  mountain. 

For  twenty  years  I  had  been  reading  the  scanty  scraps 
of  mountain-goat  literature  that  at  long  intervals  have 
appeared  in  print.  I  had  seen  seven  specimens  alive  in 
captivity,  and  helped  to  care  for  four  of  them.  With  a 
firm  belief  that  the  game  was  worth  it,  I  had  travelled 
twenty-five  hundred  miles  or  more  in  order  to  meet  this 
strange  animal  in  its  own  home,  and  cultivate  a  close 
acquaintance  with  half  a  dozen  wild  flocks. 

At  three  o'clock  we  camped  at  timber-line,  on  a  high 
and  difficult  pass  between  the  Elk  River  and  the  Bull. 
That  night  we  christened  the  ridge  Goat  Pass.  While 
the  guides  and  the  cook  unpacked  the  outfit  and  pitched 
the  tents,  Mr.  Phillips  hurried  down  the  western  side  of 
the  divide.  Fifteen  minutes  later  he  and  Kaiser, — in  my 
opinion  the  wisest  hunting-dog  in  British  Columbia, — 
had  twenty-eight  nanny  goats  and  kids  at  bay  on  the  top 


48     CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

of  a  precipice,  and  were  photographing  them  at  the  risk 
of  their  lives. 

Rifle  and  glass  in  hand,  I  sat  down  on  a  little  knoll 
a  few  yards  above  the  tents,  to  watch  a  lame  billy  goat 
who  was  quietly  grazing  and  limping  along  the  side  of 
a  lofty  ridge  that  came  down  east  of  us  from  Phillips 
Peak.  A  lame  wild  animal  in  a  country  wherein  a  shot 
had  not  been  fired  for  five  years,  was,  to  all  of  us,  a  real 
novelty;  and  with  my  glasses  I  watched  that  goat  long 
and  well.  It  was  his  left  foreleg  that  was  lame,  and  it 
was  the  opinion  of  the  party  that  the  old  fellow  was 
suffering  from  an  accident  received  on  the  rocks.  Pos- 
sibly a  stone  had  been  rolled  down  upon  him,  by  another 
goat. 

Suddenly  sharp  cries  of  surprise  came  up  from  the 
camp,  and  I  sprang  up  to  look  about.  Three  goats  were 
running  past  the  tents  at  top  speed, — a  big  billy,  and  two 
smaller  goats. 

"Hi,  there!  Goats!  Goats!"  cried  Smith  and 
Norboe. 

The  cook  was  stooping  over  the  fire,  and  looking 
under  his  right  arm  he  saw  the  bunch  charging  straight 
toward  him,  at  a  gallop.  A  second  later,  the  big  billy 
was  almost  upon  him. 

^^  Hey!  You  son-of-a-gun!^^  yelled  Huddleston,  and 
as  the  big  snow-white  animal  dashed  past  him  he  struck 
it  across  the  neck  with  a  stick  of  firewood.  The  goat's 
tracks  were  within  six  feet  of  the  camp-fire. 

The  billy  ran  straight  through  the  camp,  then  swung 
sharply  to  the  left,  and  the  last  I  saw  of  him  was  his 


THE    MOUNTAIN    GOAT   AT    HOME         49 

humpy  hindquarters  wildly  bobbing  up  and  down  among 
the  dead  jack  pines,  as  he  ran  for  Bald  Mountain. 

The  two  smaller  goats  held  their  course,  and  one 
promptly  disappeared.  The  other  leaped  across  our 
water-hole,  and  as  it  scrambled  out  of  the  gully  near  my 
position,  and  paused  for  a  few  seconds  to  look  back- 
ward, instinctively  I  covered  it  with  my  rifle.  But  only 
for  an  instant.  "  Come  as  they  may,"  thought  I,  "  my 
first  goat  shall  not  be  a  small  one!"  And  as  the  goat 
turned  and  raced  on  up,  my  .303  Savage  came  down. 

We  laughed  long  at  the  utter  absurdity  of  three  wild 
goats  actually  breaking  into  the  privacy  of  our  camp,  on 
our  first  afternoon  in  Goatland.  In  the  Elk  Valley 
Charlie  Smith  had  promised  me  that  we  would  camp 
"  right  among  the  goats,"  and  he  had  royally  kept  his 
word. 

At  evening,  when  we  gathered  round  the  camp-fire, 
and  counted  up,  we  found  that  on  our  first  day  in  Goat- 
land,  we  had  seen  a  total  of  fifty-three  goats;  and  no  one 
had  fired  a  shot.  As  for  myself,  I  felt  quite  set  up  over 
my  presence  of  mind  in  not  firing  at  the  goat  which  I 
had  "  dead  to  rights "  after  it  had  invaded  our  camp, 
and  which  might  have  been  killed  as  a  measure  of  self- 
defence. 

Our  camp  was  pitched  in  a  most  commanding  and 
awe-inspiring  spot.  We  were  precisely  at  timber-line, 
in  a  grassy  hollow  on  the  lowest  summit  between  Bald 
and  Bird  Mountains,  on  the  north,  and  Phillips  Peak, 
on  the  south.  From  our  tents  the  ground  rose  for  sev- 
eral hundred  feet,  like  the  cables  of  the  Brooklyn  Bridge, 


50     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

until  it  stopped  against  a  rock  wall  which  went  on  up 
several  hundred  feet  more.  In  a  notch  quite  near  us 
was  a  big  bank  of  eternal  ice.  In  that  country,  such 
things  are  called  glaciers;  and  its  melting  foot  was  the 
starting-point  of  Goat  Creek.  Fifty  paces  taken  east- 
ward from  our  tents  brought  us  to  a  projecting  point 
from  which  we  looked  down  a  hundred  feet  to  a  rope 
of  white  water,  and  on  down  Goat  Creek  as  it  drops 
five  hundred  feet  to  the  mile,  to  the  point  where  it  turns 
a  sharp  corner  to  the  right,  and  disappears. 

Westward  of  camp,  after  climbing  up  a  hundred  feet 
or  so,  through  dead  standing  timber,  the  ridge  slopes 
steeply  down  for  a  mile  and  a  half  to  the  bottom  of  a 
great  basin  half  filled  with  green  timber,  that  opens 
toward  Bull  River.  Tt  was  on  this  slope,  at  a  point  where 
a  wall  of  rock  cropped  out,  that  Mr.  Phillips  cornered 
his  flock  of  goats  and  photographed  them. 

At  our  camp,  water  and  wood  were  abundant;  there 
was  plenty  of  fine  grass  for  our  horses,  spruce  boughs 
for  our  beds,  scenery  for  millions,  and  what  more  could 
we  ask? 

The  day  following  our  arrival  on  Goat  Pass  was  dull 
and  rainy,  with  a  little  snow,  and  we  all  remained  in 
camp.  At  intervals,  some  one  would  stroll  out  to  our 
lookout  point  above  Goat  Creek,  and  eye-search  the 
valley  below  "  to  see  if  an  old  silver-tip  could  come 
a-moochin'  up,  by  accident,"  as  Guide  Smith  quaintly 
phrased  it. 

That  gray  day  taught  me  something  of  color  values 
in  those  mountains.    As  seen  from  our  lookout  point,  the 


THE    MOUNTAIN    GOAT    AT    HOME         51 

long,  even  stretch  of  house-roof  mountain-slope  on  the 
farther  side  of  Goat  Creek  was  a  revelation.  In  the  full 
sunlight  of  a  clear  day,  its  tints  were  nothing  to  com- 
mand particular  attention.  Strong  light  seemed  to  take 
the  colors  out  of  everything.  But  a  cloudy  day,  with  a 
little  rain  on  the  face  of  nature,  was  like  new  varnish 
on  an  old  oil-painting. 

During  the  forenoon,  fleecy  white  clouds  chased  each 
other  over  the  pass  and  through  our  camp,  and  for  much 
of  the  time  the  Goat  Creek  gorge  was  cloud-filled.  At 
last,  however,  about  noon,  they  rose  and  drifted  away, 
and  then  the  mountain  opposite  revealed  a  color  pattern 
that  was  exquisitely  beautiful. 

For  a  distance  of  a  thousand  yards  the  ridge-side 
stretched  away  down  the  valley,  straight  and  even;  and 
in  that  distance  it  was  furrowed  from  top  to  bottom  by 
ten  or  twelve  gullies,  and  ribbed  by  an  equal  number  of 
ridges.  At  the  bottom  of  the  gorge  was  a  dense  green 
fringe  of  tall,  obelisk  spruces,  very  much  alive.  In  many 
places,  ghostly  processions  of  dead  spruces,  limbless  and 
gray,  forlornly  climbed  the  ridges,  until  half-way  up  the 
highest  stragglers  stopped.  Intermixed  with  these  tall 
poles  were  patches  of  trailing  juniper  of  a  dark  olive- 
green  color,  growing  tightly  to  the  steep  slope. 

The  apex  of  each  timbered  ridge  was  covered  with  a 
solid  mass  of  great  willow-herb  or  "  fireweed  "  (Cha- 
maenerion  angusttfolium) ,  then  in  its  brightest  autumn 
tints  of  purple  and  red.  The  brilliant  patches  of  color 
which  they  painted  on  the  mountain-side  would  have 
rejoiced   the   heart   of   an   artist.     This   glorious   plant 


52     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

colored  nearly  every  mountain-side  in  that  region  during 
our  September  there. 

Below  the  fireweed,  the  ridges  were  dotted  with 
small,  cone-shaped  spruces,  and  trailing  junipers  {Juni- 
perus  prostrata),  of  the  densest  and  richest  green.  The 
grassy  sides  of  the  gullies  were  all  pale  yellow-green, 
softly  blended  at  the  edges  with  the  darker  colors  that 
framed  them  in.  At  the  bottom  of  each  washout  was  a 
mass  of  light-gray  slide-rock,  and  above  all  this  rare  pat- 
tern of  soft  colors  loomed  a  lofty  wall  of  naked  carbon- 
iferous limestone  rock,  gray,  grim  and  forbidding. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  I  never  elsewhere  had  seen 
mountains  so  rich  in  colors  as  the  ranges  between  the 
Elk  and  the  Bull  in  that  particular  September. 

The  rain  and  the  drifting  clouds  were  with  us  for 
one  day  only.  Very  early  on  the  second  morning,  while 
Mr.  Phillips  and  I  lay  in  our  sleeping-bags  considering 
the  grave  question  of  getting  or  not  getting  up.  Mack 
Norboe's  voice  was  heard  outside,  speaking  low  but  to 
the  point: 

"  Director,  here's  an  old  billy  goat,  lying  right  above 
our  camp!  " 

It  was  like  twelve  hundred  volts.  We  tumbled  out 
of  our  bags,  slipped  on  our  shoes,  and  ran  out.  Sure 
enough,  a  full-grown  male  goat  was  lying  on  the  crest 
of  the  divide  that  led  up  to  the  summit  of  Bald  Moun- 
tain, seventy-five  feet  above  us,  and  not  more  than  two 
hundred  and  fifty  yards  away.  The  shooting  of  him  was 
left  to  me. 

I  think  I  could  have  bagged  that  animal  as  he  lay; 


The  Size  of  a   Mountain   Goat 

The  author's  specimen,  after  falling  loo  feet,  and  rolling  200  feet  on  the  slide-rock. 


THE    MOUNTAIN    GOAT   AT    HOME         S3 

but  what  would  there  have  been  in  that  of  any  interest 
to  a  sportsman?  I  had  not  asked  any  goats  to  come 
down  to  our  camp,  and  lie  down  to  be  shot! 

Not  caring  greatly  whether  I  got  that  goat  or  not, 
I  attempted  a  stalk  along  the  western  side  of  the  ridge, 
through  the  dead  timber,  and  well  below  him.  But  the 
old  fellow  was  not  half  so  sleepy  as  he  looked.  When 
finally  I  came  up  to  a  point  that  was  supposed  to  com- 
mand his  works,  I  found  that  he  had  winded  me.  He 
had  vanished  from  his  resting-place,  and  was  already  far 
up  the  side  of  Bald  Mountain,  conducting  a  masterly 
retreat. 

After  a  hurried  breakfast,  we  made  ready  for  a  day 
with  the  goats  on  the  northern  mountains.  Although 
there  are  many  things  in  favor  of  small  parties, — the 
best  consisting  of  one  guide  and  one  hunter, — we  all  went 
together, — Mr.  Phillips,  Mack,  Charlie  and  I.  Our 
leader  declared  a  determination  to  "  see  the  director 
shoot  his  first  goat";  and  I  assured  the  others  that  the 
services  of  all  would  be  needed  in  carrying  home  my 
spoils. 

As  we  turned  back  toward  camp,  and  took  time  to 
look  "  at  the  sceneries,"  the  view  westward,  toward  Bull 
River,  disclosed  a  cloud  effect  so  beautiful  that  Mr. 
Phillips  insisted  upon  photographing  it,  then  and  there. 
To  give  the  "  touch  of  life  "  which  he  always  demanded, 
I  sat  in,  as  usual. 

By  Mr.  Phillips's  advice,  I  put  on  suspenders  and 
loosened  my  cartridge-belt,  in  order  to  breathe  with  per- 
fect freedom.    We  wore  no  leggings.     Our  shoes  were 


54     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

heavily  hobnailed,  and  while  I  had  thought  mine  as 
light  as  one  dared  use  in  that  region  of  ragged  rocks, 
I  found  that  for  cliff-climbing  they  were  too  heavy,  and 
too  stiff  in  the  soles.  Of  course  knee-breeches  are  the 
thing,  but  they  should  be  so  well  cut  that  in  steep 
climbing  they  will  not  drag  on  the  knees,  and  waste  the 
climber's  horse-power;  and  there  should  be  a  generous 
opening  at  the  knee. 

In  those  mountains,  four  things,  and  only  four,  are 
positively  indispensable  to  every  party, — rifles,  axes,  field- 
glasses  and  blankets.  Each  member  of  our  hunting 
party  carried  a  good  glass,  and  never  stirred  from  camp 
without  it.  For  myself,  I  tried  an  experiment.  Two 
months  previously  Mrs.  Hornaday  selected  for  me,  in 
Paris,  a  very  good  opera-glass,  made  by  Lemaire,  with 
a  field  that  was  delightfully  large  and  clear.  While  not 
quite  so  powerful  a  magnifier  as  the  strongest  binoculars 
now  on  the  market,  its  field  was  so  much  clearer  that  I 
thought  I  would  prefer  it.  It  was  much  smaller  than 
any  regulation  field-glass,  and  I  carried  it  either  in  a 
pocket  of  my  trousers,  or  loose  inside  my  hunting-shirt, 
quite  forgetful  of  its  weight. 

It  proved  a  great  success.  We  found  much  interest 
in  testing  it  with  binoculars  five  times  as  costly,  and  the 
universal  verdict  was  that  it  would  reveal  an  animal  as 
far  as  a  hunter  could  go  to  it,  and  find  it.  I  mention  this 
because  in  climbing  I  found  it  well  worth  while  to  be 
free  from  a  dangling  leather  case  that  is  always  in  the 
way,  and  often  is  too  large  for  comfort. 

From  our  camp  we  went  north,  along  the  top  of  the 


THE    MOUNTAIN    GOAT    AT    HOME         SS 

eastern  wall  of  Bald  Mountain.  Two  miles  from  home 
we  topped  a  sharp  rise,  and  there  directly  ahead,  and 
only  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away  on  an  eastern  slope  lay  a 
band  of  eleven  goats,  basking  in  the  welcome  sunshine. 
The  flock  was  composed  of  nannies,  yearling  billies  and 
kids,  with  not  even  one  old  billy  among  those  present. 
Two  old  chaperons  lay  with  their  heads  well  up,  on  the 
lookout,  but  all  the  others  lay  full  length  upon  the  grass, 
with  their  backs  uphill.  Three  of  the  small  kids  lay 
close  against  their  mothers. 

They  were  on  the  northerly  point  of  a  fine  mountain 
meadow,  with  safety  rocks  on  three  sides.  Just  beyond 
them  lay  a  ragged  hogback  of  rock,  both  sides  of  which 
were  so  precipitous  that  no  man  save  an  experienced 
mountaineer  would  venture  far  upon  it.  It  was  to  this 
rugged  fortress  that  the  goats  promptly  retreated  for 
safety  when  we  left  ofif  watching  them,  and  rose  from 
our  concealment.  Their  sunning-ground  looked  like  a 
sheep-yard,  and  we  saw  that  goats  had  many  times  lain 
upon  that  spot. 

Near  by,  behind  a  living  windbreak,  was  a  goat- 
bed,  that  looked  as  if  goats  had  lain  in  it  five  hundred 
times.  By  some  curious  circumstance,  a  dozen  stunted 
spruces  had  woven  themselves  together,  as  if  for  mutual 
support,  until  they  formed  a  tight  evergreen  wall  ten  feet 
long  and  eight  feet  high.  It  ranged  north  and  south, 
forming  an  excellent  hedge-like  shield  from  easterly 
winds,  while  the  steep  mountain  partially  cut  ofif  the 
winds  from  the  west.  On  the  upper  side  of  that  natural 
windbreak,  the  turf  had  been  worn  into  dust,  and  the 


56     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

droppings  were  several  inches  deep.  Apparently  it  was 
liked  because  it  was  a  good  shelter,  in  the  centre  of  a 
fine  sky-pasture,  and  within  a  few  jumps  of  ideal  safety 
rocks. 

From  the  spot  where  the  goats  had  lain,  looking 
ahead  and  to  our  left,  we  beheld  a  new  mountain.  Later 
on  we  christened  it  Bird  Mountain,  because  of  the  flocks 
of  ptarmigan  we  found  upon  its  summit.  Near  its  sum- 
mit we  saw  five  more  goats,  all  females  and  kids.  At 
our  feet  lay  a  deep,  rich-looking  basin,  then  a  low  ridge, 
another  basin  with  a  lakelet  in  it,  and  beyond  that  an- 
other ridge,  much  higher  than  the  first.  Ridge  No.  2 
had  dead  timber  upon  it,  but  it  was  very  scattering,  for 
it  was  timber-line;  and  its  upper  end  snugged  up  against 
the  eastern  wall  of  Bird  Mountain.  Later  on  we  found 
that  the  northern  side  of  that  ridge  ended  in  a  wall  of 
rock  that  was  scalable  by  man  in  one  place  only. 

"Yonder  are  two  big  old  billies!"  said  some  one 
with  a  glass  in  action. 

"Yes  sir;  there  they  are;  all  alone,  and  heading  this 
way,  too.  Those  are  your  goats  this  time,  Director,  sure 
enough." 

"  Now  boys,"  said  I,  "  if  we  can  stalk  those  two  goats 
successfully,  and  bag  them  both,  neatly  and  in  quick  time, 
we  can  call  it  genuine  goat-hunting!  " 

They  were  distant  about  a  mile  and  a  half,  jogging 
along  down  a  rocky  hill,  through  a  perfect  maze  of 
gullies,  ridges,  grass-plots  and  rocks,  one  of  them  keep- 
ing from  forty  to  fifty  feet  behind  the  other. 

Even  at  that  distance  they  looked  big,  and  very,  very 


THE    MOUNTAIN    GOAT    AT    HOME         57 

white.  Clearly,  they  were  heading  for  Bird  Mountain. 
We  planned  to  meet  them  wherever  they  struck  the  pre- 
cipitous side  of  the  mountain  ahead  of  us,  and  at  once 
began  our  stalk. 

From  the  basin  which  contained  the  little  two-acre 
tarn,  the  rocky  wall  of  Bird  Mountain  rose  almost  per- 
pendicularly for  about  eight  hundred  feet.  As  we  were 
passing  between  the  lake  and  the  clifif,  we  heard  bits  of 
loose  rock  clattering  down. 

"Just  look  yonder!"  said  Mr.  Phillips,  with  much 
fervor. 

Close  at  hand,  and  well  within  fair  rifle-shot,  were 
four  goats  climbing  the  wall ;  and  two  more  were  at  the 
top,  looking  down  as  if  deeply  interested.  The  climbers 
had  been  caught  napping,  and  being  afraid  to  retreat 
either  to  right  or  left,  they  had  elected  to  seek  safety  by 
climbing  straight  up!  It  was  a  glorious  opportunity  to 
see  goats  climb  in  a  difficult  place,  and  forthwith  we 
halted  and  watched  as  long  as  the  event  lasted,  utterly 
oblivious  of  our  two  big  billies.  Our  binoculars  brought 
them  down  to  us  wonderfully  well,  and  we  saw  them  as 
much  in  detail  as  if  we  had  been  looking  a  hundred  feet 
with  the  unaided  eye. 

The  wall  was  a  little  rough,  but  the  angle  of  it 
seemed  not  more  than  10  degrees  from  perpendicular. 
The  footholds  were  merely  narrow  edges  of  rock,  and 
knobs  the  size  of  a  man's  fist.  Each  goat  went  up  in  a 
generally  straight  course,  climbing  slowly  and  carefully 
all  the  while.  Each  one  chose  its  own  course,  and  paid 
no  attention  to  those  that  had  gone  before.     The  eyes 


58     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE    CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

looked  ahead  to  select  the  route,  and  the  front  hoofs  skil- 
fully sought  for  footholds.  It  seemed  as  if  the  powerful 
front  legs  performed  three-fourths  of  the  work,  reach- 
ing up  until  a  good  foothold  was  secured,  then  lifting 
the  heavy  body  by  main  strength,  while  the  hindlegs 
"  also  ran."  It  seemed  that  the  chief  function  of  the 
hind  limbs  was  to  keep  what  the  forelegs  won.  As  an 
exhibition  of  strength  of  limb,  combined  with  sure- 
footedness  and  nerve,  it  was  marvellous,  no  less. 

Often  a  goat  would  reach  toward  one  side  for  a  new 
foothold,  find  none,  then  rear  up  and  pivot  on  its  hind- 
feet,  with  its  neck  and  stomach  pressed  against  the  wall, 
over  to  the  other  side.  Occasionally  a  goat  would  be 
obliged  to  edge  ofif  five  or  ten  feet  to  one  side  in  order 
to  scramble  on  up.  From  first  to  last,  no  goat  slipped 
and  no  rocks  gave  way  under  their  feet,  although  nu- 
merous bits  of  loose  slide-rock  were  disturbed  and  sent 
rattling  down. 

It  was  a  most  inspiring  sight,  and  we  watched  it  with 
breathless  interest.  In  about  ten  minutes  the  four  goats 
had  by  sheer  strength  and  skill  climbed  about  two  hun- 
dred feet  of  the  most  precipitous  portion  of  the  cliff,  and 
reached  easy  going.  After  that  they  went  on  up  twice 
as  rapidly  as  before,  and  soon  passed  over  the  summit, 
out  of  our  sight.    Then  we  compared  notes. 

Mr.  Phillips  and  I  are  of  the  opinion  that  nothing 
could  have  induced  mountain  sheep  to  have  made  that 
appalling  climb,  either  in  the  presence  of  danger  or 
otherwise.  Since  that  day  we  have  found  that  there  are 
many  mountain  hunters  who  believe  that  as  a  straight- 


Weighing    Mountain   Goat   No.    i,    by    Sections 

The  two  goats  were  first  seen  on  the  thinly  timbered  ridge  in  the  middle  distance. 


THE    MOUNTAIN    GOAT    AT    HOME         59 

away  clifif-climber,  the  goat  does  things  that  are  impos- 
sible to  sheep. 

As  soon  as  the  goat-climbing  exhibition  had  ended, 
we  hurried  on  across  the  basin,  and  up  the  side  of  Ridge 
No.  2.  This  ridge  bore  a  thin  sprinkling  of  low  spruces, 
a  little  fallen  timber,  much  purple  fireweed  and  some 
good  grass.  As  seen  at  a  little  distance,  it  was  a  purple 
ridge.  The  western  end  of  it  snugged  up  against  the 
mountain,  and  it  was  there  that  we  met  our  two  big  billy 
goats.  They  had  climbed  nearly  to  the  top  of  our  ridge, 
close  up  to  the  mountain,  and  when  we  first  sighted  them 
they  were  beginning  to  feed  upon  a  lace-leaved  anemone 
(Pulsatilla  occidentalis) ^  at  the  edge  of  their  newly 
found  pasture.  We  worked  toward  them,  behind  a  small 
clump  of  half-dead  spruces,  and  finally  halted  to  wait 
for  them  to  come  within  range. 

After  years  of  waiting,  Rocky  Mountain  goats,  at 
last  I  How  amazingly  white  and  soft  they  look;  and  how 
big  they  are!  The  high  shoulder  hump,  the  big,  round 
barrel  of  the  body,  and  the  knee-breeches  on  the  legs 
make  the  bulk  of  the  animal  seem  enormous.  The  white- 
ness of  "  the  driven  snow,"  of  cotton  and  of  paper  seem 
by  no  means  to  surpass  the  incomparable  white  of  those 
soft,  flufify-coated  animals  as  they  appear  in  a  setting  of 
hard,  gray  limestone,  rugged  slide-rock  and  dark-green 
vegetation.  They  impressed  me  as  being  the  whitest  liv- 
ing objects  I  ever  beheld,  and  far  larger  than  I  had  ex- 
pected to  find  them.  In  reality,  their  color  had  the 
effect  of  magnifying  their  size;  for  they  looked  as  big 
as  two-year-old  buflfaloes, 


6o     CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

Of  course  only  Mr.  Phillips  and  I  carried  rifles; 
and  we  agreed  that  the  left  man  should  take  the  left 
animal. 

"  It's  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards!"  said  Mack  Nor- 
boe,  in  a  hoarse  whisper. 

My  goat  was  grazing  behind  the  trunk  of  a  fallen 
tree,  which  shielded  his  entire  body.  I  waited,  and 
waited;  and  there  he  stood,  with  his  head  down,  and 
calmly  cropped  until  I  became  wildly  impatient.  I 
think  he  stood  in  one  spot  for  five  minutes,  feeding  upon 
Pulsatilla. 

"  Why  don't  you  shoot?  "  queried  Phillips,  in  wonder. 

"  I  can't!    My  goat's  hiding  behind  a  tree." 

"  Well,  fire  when  you're  ready,  Gridley,  and  I'll 
shoot  when  you  do!  " 

It  must  have  been  five  minutes,  but  it  seemed  like 
twenty-five,  before  that  goat  began  to  feel  a  thrill  of  life 
along  his  keel,  and  move  forward.  The  annoying  sus- 
pense had  actually  made  me  unsteady;  besides  which,  my 
Savage  was  a  new  one,  and  unchristened.  Later  on  I 
found  that  the  sights  were  not  right  for  me,  and  that 
my  first  shooting  was  very  poor. 

At  last  my  goat  stood  forth,  in  full  view, — white, 
immaculate,  high  of  hump,  low  of  head,  big  and  bulky. 
I  fired  for  the  vitals  behind  shoulder. 

"You've  overshot!"  exclaimed  Norboe,  and 

"Bang!"  said  Mr.  Phillips's  Winchester. 

Neither  of  us  brought  down  our  goat  at  the  first  fire! 

I  fired  again,  holding  much  lower,  and  the  goat 
-reared  up  a  foot.     Mr.  Phillips  fired  again,  whereupon 


THE    MOUNTAIN    GOAT    AT    HOME         6i 

his  goat  fell  over  like  a  sack  of  oats,  and  went  rolling 
down  the  hill.  My  goat  turned  to  run,  and  as  he  did  so 
I  sent  two  more  shots  after  him.  Then  he  disappeared 
behind  some  rocks.  Mack,  John  and  I  ran  forward,  to 
keep  him  in  sight,  and  fire  more  shots  if  necessary.  But 
no  goat  was  to  be  seen. 

"  He  can't  get  away!"  said  Norboe,  reassuringly. 

"  He's  dead\  "  said  I,  by  way  of  an  outrageous  blufif. 
"You'll  find  him  down  on  the  slide-rock!"  But  in- 
wardly I  was  torn  by  doubts. 

We  hurried  down  the  steep  incline,  and  presently 
came  to  the  top  of  a  naked  wall  of  rock.  Below  that  was 
a  wide  expanse  of  slide-rock. 

"  Thar  he  is!  "  cried  Norboe.  "  Away  down  yonder, 
out  on  the  slide-rock,  dead  as  a  wedge." 

From  where  he  stood  when  I  fired,  the  goat  had  run 
back  about  two  hundred  feet,  where  he  fell  dead,  and 
then  began  to  roll.  We  traced  him  by  a  copious  stream 
of  blood  on  the  rocks.  He  fell  down  the  rock  wall,  for 
a  hundred  feet,  in  a  slanting  direction,  and  then — to  my 
great  astonishment — he  rolled  two  hundred  feet  farther 
(by  measurement)  on  that  ragged,  jagged  slide-rock  be- 
fore he  fetched  up  against  a  particularly  large  chunk  of 
stone,  and  stopped.  We  expected  to  find  his  horns 
broken,  but  they  were  quite  uninjured.  The  most  dam- 
age had  been  inflicted  upon  his  nose,  which  was  badly 
cut  and  bruised.  The  bullet  that  ended  his  life  (my  sec- 
ond shot)  went  squarely  through  the  valves  of  his  heart; 
but  I  regret  to  add  that  one  thigh-bone  had  been  broken 
by  another  shot,  as  he  ran  from  me. 


62     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

Mr.  Phillips's  goat  behaved  better  than  mine.  It 
rolled  down  the  grassy  slope,  and  lodged  on  a  treacher- 
ous little  shelf  of  earth  that  overhung  the  very  brink 
of  the  precipice.  One  step  into  that  innocent-look- 
ing fringe  of  green  juniper  bushes  meant  death  on  the 
slide-rock  below;  and  it  made  me  nervous  to  see  Mack 
and  Charlie  stand  there  while  they  skinned  the  ani- 
mal. 

As  soon  as  possible  we  found  the  only  practicable 
route  down  the  rock  wall,  and  scrambled  down.  The 
others  say  that  I  slid  down  the  last  twenty  feet;  but  that 
is  quite  immaterial.  I  reached  the  goat  a  few  paces  in 
advance  of  the  others,  and  thought  to  divert  my  follow- 
ers by  reciting  a  celebrated  quotation  beginning,  "  To  a 
hunter,  the  moment  of  triumph,"  etc.  As  I  laid  my 
hand  upon  the  goat's  hairy  side  and  said  my  little  piece, 
I  heard  a  deadly  "  click." 

"  Got  him!  "  cried  Mr.  Phillips;  and  then  three  men 
and  a  dog  laughed  loud  and  derisively.  Since  seeing  the 
picture  I  have  altered  that  quotation,  to  this:  "To  a 
hunter,  the  moment  of  humiliation  is  when  he  first  sees 
his  idiotic  smile  on  a  surreptitious  plate."  It  is  inserted 
solely  to  oblige  Mr.  Phillips,  as  evidence  of  the  occasion 
when  he  got  ahead  of  me. 

l^he  others  declared  that  the  goat  was  "  a  big  one, 
though  not  the  very  biggest  they  ever  grow."  Forthwith 
we  measured  him;  and  in  taking  his  height  we  shoved 
his  foreleg  up  until  the  elbow  came  to  the  position  it 
occupies  under  the  standing,  living  animal.  The  meas- 
urements were  as  follows: 


"The   Moment  of  Triumph  " — Caught    Unawares 


THE    MOUNTAIN    GOAT    AT    HOME 


(>3 


ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  GOAT 

Oreamnos   montanus 


Male,  six  years  old. 


Killed  September  8,  1905,  near  the  Bull  River, 
British  Columbia. 


Standing  height  at  shoulder 

Length,  nose  to  root  of  tail 

Length  of  tail  vertebrae 

Girth  behind  foreleg 

Girth  around  abdomen 

Girth  of  neck  behind  ears  (unskinned) 

Circumference  of  forearm,  skinned 

Width  of  chest     . 

Length  of  horn  on  curve   . 

Spread  of  horns  at  tips 

Circumference  of  horn  at  base 

Circumference  of  front  hoof 

Circumference  of  rear  hoof 

Base  of  ear  to  end  of  nostrils 

Front  corner  of  eye  to  rear  corner  nostril  opening 

Widest  spread  of  ears,  tip  to  tip      . 


Inches 
38 

59  25 

350 

55 

58 
18 

II  .25 
14 

9-75 

5 

5.60 
10.50 

7-75 
10.50 

7 
15 


Total  weight  of  animal  by  scales,  allowing  8  lbs.  for  blood  lost     258  lbs. 

The  black  and  naked  glands  in  the  skin  behind  the 
horn  were  on  that  date  small,  and  inconspicuous;  but 
they  stood  on  edge,  with  the  naked  face  of  each  closely 
pressed  against  the  base  of  the  horn  in  front  of  it. 

On  another  occasion  I  shot  a  thin  old  goat  that  stood 
forty-two  inches  high  at  the  shoulders,  and  Mr.  Phillips 
shot  another  that  weighed  two  hundred  and  seventy- 
six  pounds.  After  we  had  thoroughly  dissected  my  goat, 
weighed  it,  examined  the  contents  of  its  stomach,  and 
saved  a  good  sample  of  its  food  for  close  examination  at 
camp,  we  tied  up  the  hindquarters,  head  and  pelt,  and 
set  out  for  camp. 


64     CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

And  thus  ended  our  first  day  in  the  actual  hunting 
of  mountain  goats,  in  the  course  of  which  we  saw  a  total 
of  forty-two  animals.  The  stalking,  killing  and  dissect- 
ing of  our  two  goats  was  very  interesting,  but  the  greatest 
event  of  the  day  was  our  opportunity  to  watch  those  five 
goats  climb  an  almost  perpendicular  cliff. 


CHAPTER   VI 

ON  BIRD  MOUNTAIN :  PHOTOGRAPHING  MOUNTAIN  SHEEP 

A  Mountain  Cyclorama — The  Continental  Divide — Phillips  Peak — A 
Land  Unmapped  and  Unmeasured — Mountain  Altitudes  along  Elk 
River — Statement  by  Geologist  McEvoy — Mountain  Sheep  Afoot — 
Photographing  Two  Sheep  on  the  Goat  Rocks — Sheep  and  Goats 
Seen  at  the  Same  Moment. 

ON  BIRD  MOUNTAIN 

We  reserved  for  the  fourth  day  of  our  stay  at  Goat 
Pass  a  treat  which  was  like  dessert  after  meat.  We 
climbed  to  a  mountain-top  for  a  general  survey  of  our 
domain. 

Of  the  region  in  which  we  were,  Phillips  Peak  is 
the  highest  mountain;  but  its  northern  and  western  faces 
are  unscalable,  and  its  southern  slope  too  far  away.  Near 
at  hand,  and  excellent  as  a  lookout,  was  the  bald  crest 
of  Bird  Mountain,  and  to  it  we  climbed,  on  a  glorious 
afternoon  of  alternating  sunshine  and  cloud. 

The  top  of  Bald  Mountain,  beside  our  camp,  con- 
sists of  fine,  decomposed  shale,  and  the  goat-trail  over  it 
is  wide  and  deep.  Stepping  from  its  soft  side  to  the 
steep  slope  of  Bird  Mountain  is  like  going  from  an  ash- 
pile  to  a  hill  of  hair  mattresses.  The  zone  between 
timber-line  and  summit  is  thickly  carpeted  with  a  soft, 

springy,  mosslike  ground-plant  called  mountain   avens 

65 


66     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

{Dryas  octopetala),  which  to  tired  feet  is  most  soothing 
and  restful.  In  places  the  surface  of  the  slope  forms  a 
long  series  of  level  benches  a  yard  wide  and  five  or  six 
feet  long,  each  one  generously  cushioned  with  this  odd 
plant. 

Climbing  a  mountain  over  such  footing  as  that  is  like 
exploring  a  wilderness  in  a  Pullman  car.  But  mark  the 
contrast.  From  this  zone  of  living  carpet  we  climbed 
upon  the  terminal  cap  of  the  mountain,  a  huge  mound 
of  broken,  sharp-edged  rock,  ragged,  jagged,  and  barren 
of  all  vegetable  life.  It  was  the  remains  of  a  prehistoric 
peak,  which  foot  by  foot  had  remorselessly  been  torn 
down  by  wind  and  sun,  frost  and  rain,  until  its  last  pin- 
nacle had  been  laid  low.  The  whole  mountain-top  was 
a  mass  of  clean  rock — carboniferous  limestone  the  color 
of  a  postal  card, — that  looked  as  if  it  had  just  come 
from  a  quarry,  suitably  broken  for  rubble-masonry 
foundations. 

The  view  from  that  rocky  summit  disclosed  a  mag- 
nificent mountain-cyclorama.  In  every  direction,  to  the 
uttermost  limit  of  vision,  there  rose  and  fell  a  bewilder- 
ing succession  of  saw-tooth  mountains,  deep  valleys  and 
far-distant  peaks.  The  level  mountain-plateau  feature 
was  totally  absent.  Nowhere  was  there  visible  a  level 
spot  large  enough  for  a  foot-ball  field.  It  was  moun- 
tains, mountains,  everywhere,  a  labyrinth  of  steeps,  a  be- 
wildering maze  of  summits,  valleys,  precipices,  basins 
and  passes. 

Looking  eastward  over  the  northern  spurs  of  Phil- 
lips Peak,  across  the  valley  of  Elk  River  and  beyond 


ON    BIRD    MOUNTAIN  67 

Sheep  Mountain,  we  saw,  about  thirty  miles  away,  a 
long  line  of  lofty  snow-clad  peaks,  much  higher  than 
any  of  the  intervening  summits.  They  marked  the  crest 
of  the  great  Continental  Divide,  and  the  boundary  be- 
tween British  Columbia  and  Alberta.  Our  distance  from 
the  United  States  boundary  was  about  seventy  miles. 
South-eastward,  and  very  near  at  hand,  rose  the  sharp 
cone  of  Phillips  Peak,  the  culmination  and  hub  of  every- 
thing in  the  region  round  about.  From  its  precipitous 
sides  spring  at  least  five  small  mountain-chains,  which 
radiate  like  the  spokes  of  a  wheel.  Mr.  Phillips's  fine 
photograph  of  his  namesake  renders  a  feeble  word- 
description  quite  unnecessary. 

Although  the  northern  and  western  faces  of  the  upper 
five  hundred  feet  of  the  peak  are  so  appallingly  steep 
that  only  a  mountain  goat  could  scale  them,  we  found 
later  on  that  the  southern  face  is  apparently  accessible. 
I  longed  to  stand  on  that  summit,  and  with  two  months 
in  the  mountains  I  would  gladly  have  made  the  attempt 
to  do  so;  but  as  matters  stood,  the  many  interesting  things 
zoological  that  lay  before  us  quite  crowded  out  the  idea 
of  a  well-considered  attempt  to  make  the  climb  during 
that  trip.  On  his  next  visit  Mr.  Phillips  will  undoubt- 
edly write  his  name  on  the  top  of  his  peak. 
;  The  moral  uplift,  and  the  corresponding  ego  depres- 
sion, of  such  a  mountain-cyclorama  as  circles  around  the 
summit  of  Bird  Mountain  cannot  adequately  be  por- 
trayed by  me  in  words.  I  never  before  felt  quite  so 
puny  or  so  wholly  insignificant  as  then.  I  have  seen 
other  mountains  in  plenty,  but  nowhere  else  have  I  felt 


6e     CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN  ROCKIES 

so  overwhelmingly  impressed  as  by  that  particular  two 
thousand  square  miles  of  heaving  mountain-billows  and 
deep-plunging  valleys  in  view  from  Bird  Mountain. 
And  think  what  it  must  be  from  the  top  of  Phillips  Peak, 
on  a  clear  day  in  September! 

Down  to  this  date,  the  region  north  and  north-west 
of  Michel,  for  a  radius  of  perhaps  fifty  miles,  has  never 
been  touched  by  aneroid  or  surveyor's  chain.  We  can 
give  no  heights  nor  distances  with  mechanical  accuracy. 
Above  Michel  there  is  not  a  datum  point  of  any  kind. 
Naturally,  however,  we  were  much  interested  in  the 
heights  of  the  mountain  summits  in  the  region  we  vis- 
ited, between  the  Elk  and  Bull  Rivers.  Our  estimates 
of  the  height  of  Phillips  Peak,  and  other  points  in  the 
mountains  surrounding  it,  were  based  on  the  following 
memoranda  which  were  kindly  supplied  by  Mr.  James 
McEvoy,  Geologist  of  the  Crow's  Nest  Pass  Coal  Com- 
pany:— 

"  I  have  not  the  exact  figures  for  the  elevation  of  the 
Elk  River  at  Wild-Cat  Charlie's  ranch,  but  it  must  be 
very  close  to  3,900  feet  above  sea-level." 

"  The  elevations  of  the  mountains  near  Fernie  on  the 
east  side  of  the  river  are  about  7,000  feet.  These  moun- 
tains are  of  cretaceous  coal-bearing  rocks.  On  the  west 
side  of  the  Elk  River  at  Fernie  the  mountains  are  com- 
posed of  Carboniferous  and  Devonian  limestone,  and 
quartzites,  reaching  elevations  of  from  9,000  to  10,000 
feet.  The  average  height  of  the  summits  would  be  about 
9,200  feet.  These  summits  stand  about  four  miles  back 
from  the  river.     Lower  hills  and  spurs  of  these  come 


ON   BIRD    MOUNTAIN  69 

closer  to  the  river,  and  will  average  about  7,000  feet 
elevation." 

**  Farther  up  the  Elk  River,  on  the  east  side,  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Sparwood,  the  elevations  are  the  same 
as  near  Fernie.  On  the  west  side,  however,  the  moun- 
tains reach  a  higher  elevation,  probably  10,500  feet  above 
the  sea,  and  the  distance  of  the  summits  from  the  Elk 
River  is  increased  to  about  ten  miles.  North  of  the 
mouth  of  Michel  Creek  I  cannot  give  you  any  close  fig- 
ures for  the  elevation.  The  valley  of  the  river  for  the 
most  part  is  occupied  by  a  narrow  band  of  cretaceous 
rocks,  and  the  mountains  on  either  side,  at  least  the 
higher  ones,  are  composed  of  Carboniferous  and  De- 
vonian. On  the  west  side  of  the  river,  from  what  I  could 
see  of  the  mountains,  they  seem  to  increase  in  elevation 
as  you  go  northward,  and  on  the  east  side  the  lower 
hills,  which  are  composed  of  cretaceous  rocks,  seem  to 
dwindle  into  insignificance." 

Judging  from  the  facts  stated  above  by  Mr.  McEvoy, 
we  estimated  the  height  of  Phillips  Peak  at  about  10,000 
feet,  and  the  average  elevation  of  timber-line  at  8,500 
feet.  We  think  that  the  goats  we  found  and  shot  high 
up  on  the  south-western  side  of  the  peak  were  feeding 
at  a  height  of  about  9,000  feet. 

Even  on  the  rugged  and  forbidding  summit  of  Bird 
Mountain,  we  found  bird  life.  While  Mr.  Phillips  was 
busily  manoeuvring  for  mountain  photographs,  stagger- 
ing over  the  cruel  rocks,  camera  in  hand,  a  flock  of 
willow  ptarmigans  flew  up  almost  from  under  his  feet, 
crying    "  cluck-cluck-cluck-cluck."      Their    snow-white 


70     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

wings  and  tails  flashed  and  fluttered  for  a  hundred  yards, 
then  dropped  among  the  stones.  Instantly  the  mountain 
views  were  forgotten,  and  there  began  a  long  series  of 
manoeuvres  to  photograph  the  birds.  Mack  Norboe  was 
detailed  to  herd  the  birds,  and  hold  them  from  stamped- 
ing while  the  camera  man  worked  within  close  range. 

Shot  after  shot  was  made,  sometimes  at  fifteen  feet, 
and  at  least  ten  times  the  birds  flew  because  they  were 
too  closely  pressed.  The  difficulty  lay  in  the  bad  light, 
and  the  inability  of  the  camera  to  differentiate  the  bodies 
of  the  birds  from  the  stones.  The  pictures  were  not 
successful,  and  in  lieu  of  them  Mr.  Phillips  offers  a 
photograph  of  a  single  female  ptarmigan,  in  summer 
plumage,  herded  by  Mr.  G.  N.  Monro,  at  a  distance  of 
about  five  feet. 

PHOTOGRAPHING  MOUNTAIN  SHEEP 

I  shall  always  remember  the  date, — September  ii, — 
because  that  date  once  was  the  wedding-day  of  a  Lady 
whom  I  know. 

We  had  decided  to  leave  Goat  Pass  on  that  day, 
move  southward  about  ten  miles,  and  make  a  new  camp 
in  the  picturesque  valley  of  Avalanche  Creek.  In  order 
to  lose  no  sportsman's  opportunity,  it  was  decided  that 
Mr.  Phillips,  Charlie,  and  I  should  go  ahead  on  foot, 
hunting  by  the  way,  and  that  the  others  should  follow 
on  with  the  pack-train,  as  soon  as  it  could  be  made  ready. 

For  the  second  time  in  my  hunting  experience,  a 
strange  coincidence  was  brought  about  by  the  desire  of 
a  brother  sportsman  to  show  me  the  exact  spot  whereon 


6  I, 

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CO  w) 

3 

c  < 

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C  a. 

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6  2 


o 


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o 

C/3 


PHOTOGRAPHING    MOUNTAIN   SHEEP       71 

a  strange  thing  had  happened  to  him.  As  we  shoul- 
dered our  rifles  and  climbed  the  hill  south  of  our  tents, 
Mr.  Phillips  said,  ^'  Now,  Director,  if  you  will  come 
with  me,  I  will  show  you  where  I  corralled  those  goats 
and  photographed  them,  the  day  we  arrived  here."  I 
had  previously  expressed  a  desire  to  examine  the  spot, 
in  order  to  see  where  the  goats  had  stood  at  bay  and 
unwillingly  leaped  down. 

We  soon  topped  the  crest  of  the  ridge,  and  started 
down  the  long  and  steep  western  slope  which  constitutes 
the  Bull  River  side  of  the  divide.  We  were  just  below 
timber-line,  and  the  mountain-side  was  thinly  covered 
with  stunted  white  spruces,  half  of  them  dead.  Far 
below  us  lay  a  deep,  round  basin,  like  a  gigantic  wash- 
bowl set  between  the  peaks.  The  bottom  of  this  basin 
was  half  covered  with  a  beautiful  growth  of  dark-green 
timber,  into  which  the  growth  upon  our  mountain-side 
climbed  down  and  merged. 

In  going  down  a  mountain,  I  think  the  distance  al- 
ways is  greater  than  one  expects.  Mr.  Phillips  led  us 
down,  down,  and  still  farther  down,  and  steeper  all  the 
while,  until  the  slope  seemed  interminable;  and  then  we 
reached  the  top  of  a  rock  bluff  which  cropped  out  and 
ran  along  the  mountain-side  from  south  to  north. 

"  There,"  said  he,  pausing  at  last.  "  It  was  right  here 
that  Kaiser  rounded  up  those  goats  for  me,  at  the  top  of 
this  wall.  You  see,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  that  perpen- 
dicular drop  of  eight  feet,  the  band  would  have  gone  on 
down,  immediately.  Do  you  see  that  dead  tree?  Well, 
they  bunched  up  behind  that,  with  Kaiser  on  that  side. 


72     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

me  on  this  side,  and  the  eight-foot  drop  below.  They 
didn't  like  to  take  that  jump, — probably  because  of  the 
kids.  Well,  Kaiser  held  them  from  getting  away  on  his 
side,  and  I  exposed  on  them  all  the  films  I  had,  right 
from  this  old  dead  stub.  I  leaned  against  it  until  it 
cracked,  and  I  feared  it  might  go  over  with  me." 

"  And  what  did  the  goats  do,  finally?  " 

"  At  last  the  old  ones  got  their  courage  up,  and  gin- 
gerly jumped  off;  and  the  kids  had  to  follow  suit.  The 
nannies  and  yearlings  landed  on  their  feet,  and  their 
momentum  carried  them  on,  slipping  and  sliding  head- 
long down  the  rest  of  the  way  [about  fifty  feet].  You 
see,  the  rest  of  it  is  not  quite  perpendicular,  and  they 
slid  down  very  well,  of  course  holding  back  with  their 
feet  wherever  the  rock  was  rough." 

"  How  about  the  kid  that  fell?" 

"  Poor  little  beggar,  he  was  really  hurt.  When  he 
jumped  from  here,  he  landed  on  his  nose,  and  gave  a 
bleat  of  pain.  And  what  was  worse,  he  couldn't  recover 
himself  entirely,  but  went  on,  half  tumbling  and  half 
sliding,  until  he  reached  the  bottom.  It  made  his  mouth 
bleed,  and  must  have  hurt  him  cruelly.  I  felt  awfully 
sorry  for  him." 

Mr.  Phillips  had  barely  finished  his  story,  when 
Charlie  Smith,  who  had  been  closely  scanning  the  thick, 
green  timber  of  the  basin,  suddenly  exclaimed, 

"  Something's  coming  1  Something's  coming  this 
way, — on  a  dead  run !  " 

"What  is  it,  Charlie?" 

"  I  think  it's  a  bunch  of  deer." 


PHOTOGRAPHING   MOUNTAIN   SHEEP       73 

*' Or  an  old  silver-tip, — eh,  Charlie?"  cried  Mr. 
Phillips. 

"  No;  it's  no  silver-tip." 

We  started  in  a  mad  scramble  along  the  mountain- 
side, and  before  ten  paces  had  been  covered  each  man 
had  thrown  a  loaded  cartridge  into  the  barrel  of  his 
rifle.  We  had  not  moved  more  than  fifty  paces  from 
the  goat  rocks  when  we  saw  two  brown-gray  animals 
scurrying  nimbly  and  swiftly  along  the  tree-covered 
mountain-side,  almost  on  our  contour  line,  and  coming 
straight  toward  us.    Exclamations  flew  all  about. 

"  Here  they  come!  "   "Sheep!"   "  Mountain  sheep!  " 

Mechanically  we  threw  our  rifles  into  position,  but 
Charlie  cried  out  sharply, 

"Don't  shoot,  men!  Don't  shoot!  They're  both 
ewes!  " 

On  they  came,  headed  straight  for  us,  and  the  com- 
bined nimbleness  and  strength  with  which  they  ran  was 
beautiful  to  see.  They  carried  their  heads  well  up,  ran 
close  together,  and  their  speed  was  astonishing.  They 
seemed  to  sweep  over  the  ground  as  easily  as  a  hawk  flies. 

They  did  not  see  us  until  they  were  within  about  a 
hundred  feet,  and  then  in  a  graceful  curve  they  swerved 
ofif  sharply  downhill,  and  flew  for  safety  to  the  rocky 
wall  below.  Then  they  disappeared.  As  they  passed 
near  us,  we  saw  that  the  one  in  the  lead  was  a  full- 
grown  ewe,  and  the  other  a  two-year-old  ram. 

As  soon  as  we  could  recover  from  our  astonishment, 
and  get  our  thoughts  once  more  in  motion,  we  naturally 
concluded  that  the  sheep  had  kept  on  running,  and  soon 


74     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE    CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

would  be  a  mile  away.  No  one  dreamed  of  seeing  them 
again.  But  suddenly,  like  a  bolt  out  of  the  blue,  we 
heard, 

"Ah,  woo!  woo!  woo!" 

It  was  the  voice  of  Kaiser,  only  a  few  yards  away, 
coming  up  from  the  rocks  below. 

"By  jove!  Kaiser  has  stopped  those  sheep  on  the 
goat  rocks!  " 

"We'll  photograph  'em,  Charlie!  Get  out  your 
camera,  quick,  and  come  on!"  said  Mr.  Phillips. 

In  two  minutes  we  were  peering  over  the  edge  of  the 
precipice,  in  an  effort  to  locate  the  subjects. 

"  They're  right  down  there.  If  one  of  you  go  down 
there,  and  the  other  this  way,  you'll  get  them  right  be- 
tween your  two  cameras!" 

"  This  is  good  enough  for  me!  "  said  Charlie,  swing- 
ing himself  over  the  edge  into  a  perfectly  frightful  situa- 
tion.    "  I  see  them!     I  see  them!  " 

Mr.  Phillips  scrambled  down  the  other  way,  in  a 
most  reckless  fashion. 

"  Now,  boys,"  said  No.  3,  "  for  goodness  sake,  mind 
your  footing;  and  don't  fall  down  that  wall  for  a  million 
old  pictures!  " 

Those  two  dare-devils  went  down  to  positions  on  that 
precipice  that  I  would  not  have  ventured  with  a  camera 
for  any  pictures,  heads  or  horns  ever  taken,  or  that  ever 
will  be  taken.  If  empty-handed,  it  would  not  have  been 
quite  so  bad;  but  to  see  them  "monkeying  around"  on 
the  face  of  a  treacherous  precipice,  handicapped  with 
cameras,   relying  solely  upon   their   feet  to   hold   them 


.l.n   M.    Phillii 


Young   Mountain  Sheep   Ram 

Photographed  September  nth,   1905. 


PHOTOGRAPHING    MOUNTAIN   SHEEP      75 

upon  a  few  bumps  and  edges  of  rock,  with  Sure  Death 
below,  was  about  all  that  my  nerves  could  endure.  I 
felt  like  shouting  at  them  constantly,  to  be  careful,  and 
then  more  careful  still, — for  I  have  no  desire  to  camp 
with  a  Tragedy;  but  beyond  a  few  mild  admonitions,  I 
held  my  peace. 

Leaving  my  rifle  above,  I  crept  down  behind  Mr. 
Phillips's  position, — at  a  very  easy  spot, — until  I  could 
see  the  tableau  on  the  wall. 

The  sheep  occupied  a  comfortable  ledge,  and  the 
most  of  the  time  were  aggravatingly  concealed  from  Mr. 
Phillips  by  an  angle  of  the  wall.  They  were  many  feet 
below  Charlie's  best  position,  and  although  he  saw  them 
very  plainly,  the  images  his  camera  got  of  them  were 
too  small  to  represent  much  value. 

Mr.  Phillips  made  several  exposures,  but  in  reality 
had  not  even  one  fair  chance  at  a  sheep  in  full  view. 
His  best  pictures  were  made  when  the  young  ram  was 
looking  at  him  around  the  angle  of  rock  which  usually 
concealed  it.  The  photograph  may  well  be  entitled, 
"  On  the  Alert,"  for  it  shows  a  sheep  as  wary  and  wide- 
awake as  it  is  possible  for  one  to  be.  There  were  mo- 
ments when  that  ram  seemed  to  be  all  eyes.  A  number 
of  times  he  craned  his  neck  around  the  rock,  and  stared 
hard  at  us  to  see  whether  we  were  coming  nearer. 

After  the  lapse  of  about  ten  minutes,  the  sheep  de- 
cided that  they  must  be  going.  Without  more  ado,  they 
lightly  sprang  from  step  to  step,  straight  away  from  Mr. 
Phillips  and  me,  rapidly  descending  all  the  while.  The 
Goat  Rocks  were  soon  left  far  behind,  and  the  last  we 


76     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

saw  of  the  photographed  mountain  sheep  was  their  dull- 
white  rump-patches  flitting  away  northward,  through  the 
dead  timber  and  up  the  mountain-side,  a  mile  away. 

May  they  live  long,  and  prosper. 

Some  one  has  said,  much  too  easily,  that  mountain 
sheep  and  mountain  goats  never  inhabit  the  same  local- 
ity at  the  same  time. 

As  we  looked  for  the  last  time  at  the  running  sheep, 
and  then  mechanically  glanced  at  the  summit  of  the 
mountain-side  up  which  they  were  bounding  fast  and 
free,  we  saw  once  more  the  band  of  five  goats  which  for 
days  had  been  loafing  on  that  isolated  peak.  That  was 
the  band  which  had  not  received  word  of  our  baneful 
presence. 


CHAPTER   VII 

A  GREAT  DAY  WITH   GOATS 

Goats  Far  Up — The  Climb,  and  Its  Difficulties — An  Elusive  Pair — 
Ten  Big  Billies  at  Hand — Observations  of  an  Hour — Four  Goats 
Killed,  and  Utilized — The  Tallest  Goat,  and  the  Heaviest — Rolling 
Carcasses — Down  Avalanche  Creek  to  a   Beautiful  Camp. 

This  day,  also,  was  the  eleventh  of  September, — 
after  the  incident  of  the  mountain  sheep  on  the  Camera 
Rocks. 

Mr.  Phillips,  Charlie  Smith  and  I  descended  the 
steep  side  of  Goat  Pass,  crossed  the  basin  and  slowly 
climbed  the  grassy  divide  that  separates  it  from  the 
source  of  Avalanche  Creek.  When  half  way  down  the 
southern  side  of  that  divide,  we  looked  far  up  the  side 
of  Phillips  Peak,  and  saw  two  big  old  billy  goats  of  shoot- 
able  size.  They  were  well  above  timber-line,  lying 
where  a  cloud-land  meadow  was  suddenly  chopped  ofif 
at  a  ragged  precipice.  The  way  up  to  them  was  long, 
and  very  steep. 

"That's  a  long  climb.  Director,"  said  Mr.  Phillips; 
"  but  there  are  no  bad  rocks." 

I  said  that  I  could  make  it,  in  time, — as  compared 
with  eternity, — if  the  goats  would  wait  for  me. 

"Oh,  they'll  wait!    We'll  find  'em  there,  all  right," 

said  Charlie,  confidently.    So  we  started. 

11 


78     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

As  nearly  as  I  can  estimate,  we  climbed  more  than 
a  mile,  at  an  angle  that  for  the  upper  half  of  the  dis- 
tance was  about  30  degrees, — a  very  steep  ascent  At 
first  our  way  up  led  through  green  timber,  over  smooth 
ground  that  was  carpeted  with  needles  of  spruce  and 
pine.  That  was  comparatively  easy, — no  more  difficult, 
in  fact,  than  climbing  the  stairs  of  four  Washington 
monuments  set  one  upon  another. 

At  climbing  steep  mountains,  Mr.  Phillips,  Charlie 
Smith  and  the  two  Norboes  are  perfect  fiends.  They 
are  thin,  tough  and  long-winded,  and  being  each  of  them 
fully  forty  pounds  under  my  weight,  I  made  no  pretence 
at  trying  to  keep  up  with  them.  As  it  is  in  an  English 
workshop,  the  slowest  workman  set  the  pace. 

In  hard  climbing,  almost  every  Atlantic-coast  man 
perspires  freely,  and  is  very  extravagant  in  the  use  of  air. 
It  frequently  happened  that  when  half  way  up  a  high 
mountain,  my  lungs  consumed  the  air  so  rapidly  that  a 
vacuum  was  created  around  me,  and  I  would  have  to 
stop  and  wait  for  a  new  supply  of  oxygen  to  blow  along. 
My  legs  behaved  much  better  than  my  lungs,  and  to  their 
credit  be  it  said  that  they  never  stopped  work  until  my 
lungs  ran  out  of  steam. 

As  I  toiled  up  that  long  slope,  I  thought  of  a  funny 
little  engine  that  I  saw  in  Borneo,  pulling  cars  over  an 
absurd  wooden  railway  that  ran  from  the  bank  of  the 
Sadong  River  to  the  coal-mines.  It  would  run  about  a 
mile  at  a  very  good  clip,  then  suddenly  cease  puffing, 
and  stop.    Old  Walters,  the  superintendent,  said: 

"There's    only    one    thing    ails    that   bally    engine. 


A  GREAT  DAY  WITH  GOATS      79 

The    bloomin'     little     thing    can't    make    steam     fast 
enough! " 

I  was  like  that  engine.  I  couldn't  "keep  steam"; 
and  whenever  my  lungs  became  a  perfect  vacuum,  I  had 
to  stop  and  rest,  and  collect  air.  Considering  the  fact 
that  there  was  game  above  us,  I  thought  my  comrades 
were  very  considerate  in  permitting  me  to  set  the  pace. 
Now  had  some  one  glared  at  me  with  the  look  of  a 
hungry  cannibal,  and  hissed  between  his  teeth,  "  Step 
lively!  "  it  would  have  made  me  feel  quite  at  home. 

In  due  time  we  left  the  green  timber  behind  us,  and 
started  up  the  last  quarter  of  the  climb.  There  we  found 
stunted  spruces  growing  like  scraggy  brush,  three  feet 
high,  gnarled  and  twisted  by  the  elements,  and  enfeebled 
by  the  stony  soil  on  which  they  bravely  tried  to  grow. 
Only  the  bravest  of  trees  could  even  rear  their  heads  on 
that  appalling  steep, — scorched  by  the  sun,  rasped  by  the 
wind,  drenched  by  the  rains  and  frozen  by  the  snow. 
But  after  a  hundred  yards  or  so,  even  the  dwarf  spruces 
gave  up  the  struggle.  Beyond  them,  up  to  our  chosen 
point,  the  mountain-roof  was  smooth  and  bare,  except 
for  a  sprinkle  of  fine,  flat  slide-rock  that  was  very  treach- 
erous stufif  to  climb  over. 

"Let  me  take  your  rifle,  Director!"  said  Charlie, 
kindly. 

"  No,  thank  you.  I'll  carry  it  up,  or  stay  down.  But 
you  may  keep  behind  me  if  you  will,  and  catch  me  if  I 
start  to  roll !  " 

On  steep  slopes,  such  as  that  was,  my  companions  had 
solemnly  warned  me  not  to  fall  backward  and  start  roll- 


8o     CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

ing;  for  a  rolling  man  gathers  no  moss.  A  man  bowling 
helplessly  down  a  mountain-side  at  an  angle  of  30  de- 
grees quickly  acquires  a  momentum  which  spells  death. 
Often  have  I  looked  down  a  horribly  steep  stretch,  and 
tried  to  imagine  what  I  would  feel,  and  think,  were  I 
to  overbalance  backward,  and  go  bounding  down.  A 
few  hours  later  we  saw  a  goat  carcass  take  a  fright- 
ful roll  down  a  slope  not  nearly  so  steep  as  where  we 
climbed  up,  and  several  times  it  leaped  six  feet  into 
the  air. 

To  keep  out  of  the  sight  of  the  goats  it  was  necessary 
for  us  to  bear  well  toward  our  left;  and  this  brought  us 
close  to  the  edge  of  the  precipice,  where  the  mountain- 
side was  chopped  off.  In  view  of  the  loose  stones  under 
foot,  I  felt  like  edging  more  to  the  right;  for  the  twin 
chances  of  a  roll  down  and  a  fall  over  began  to  abrade 
my  nerves.  Mr.  Phillips  and  Charlie  climbed  along  so 
close  to  the  drop  that  I  found  myself  wondering  which 
of  them  would  be  the  first  to  slip  and  go  over. 

"  Keep  well  over  this  way.  Director,  or  the  goats  may 
wind  you!  "  said  Charlie,  anxiously. 

"That's  all  right,  Charlie;  he's  winded  now!"  said 
John. 

I  said  we  would  rest  on  that;  and  before  I  knew  the 
danger,  Mr.  Phillips  had  taken  a  picture  of  me,  resting, 
and  smiling  a  most  idiotic  smile. 

At  last  we  reached  the  pinnacle  which  we  had  se- 
lected when  we  first  sighted  our  game.  As  nearly  as  we 
could  estimate,  afterward,  by  figuring  up  known  eleva- 
tions, we  were  at  a  height  of  about  nine  thousand  feet, 


A  GREAT  DAY  WITH  GOATS      8i 

and  though  not  the  highest,  it  was  the  dizziest  point  I 
ever  trod.  Except  when  we  looked  ahead,  we  seemed 
to  be  fairly  suspended  in  mid-air!  To  look  down  under 
one's  elbow  was  to  look  into  miles  of  dizzy,  bottomless 
space. 

The  steep  slope  had  led  us  up  to  the  sharp  point  of 
a  crag  that  stuck  up  like  the  end  of  a  man's  thumb,  and 
terminated  in  a  crest  as  sharp  as  the  comb  of  a  house- 
roof.  Directly  in  front,  and  also  on  the  left,  was  a  sheer 
drop.  From  the  right,  the  ragged  edge  of  the  wall  ran 
on  up,  to  the  base  of  Phillips  Peak.  Beyond  our  perch, 
twelve  feet  away,  there  yawned  a  great  basin-abyss,  and 
on  beyond  that  rocky  gulf  rose  a  five-hundred-foot  wall 
at  the  base  of  the  Peak.  A  little  to  the  right  of  our  posi- 
tion another  ragged  pinnacle  thrust  its  sharp  apex  a  few 
feet  higher  than  ours,  and  eventually  caused  me  much 
trouble  in  securing  my  first  shot. 

We  reached  the  top  of  our  crag,  and  peered  over  its 
highest  rocks  just  in  time  to  see  our  two  goats  quietly 
walk  behind  a  ragged  point  of  rock  farther  up  the  wall, 
and  disappear.  They  were  only  a  hundred  and  fifty 
yards  distant;  but  they  had  not  learned  of  our  existence, 
and  were  not  in  the  least  alarmed.  Naturally,  we  ex- 
pected them  to  saunter  back  into  view,  for  we  felt  quite 
sure  they  did  not  mean  to  climb  down  that  wall  to  the 
bottom  of  the  basin.  So  we  lay  flat  upon  the  slope,  rifles 
in  hand,  and  waited,  momentarily  expecting  the  finish. 
They  were  due  to  cross  a  grassy  slope  between  two  crags, 
not  more  than  forty  feet  wide,  and  if  not  fired  at  within 
about  ten  seconds  of  their  reappearance,  they  would  be 


82     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

lost  behind  the  rocks!  The  chance  was  not  nearly  so 
good  as  it  looked. 

But  minutes  passed,  and  no  goats  returned.  It  be- 
came evident  that  the  dawdling  pair  had  lain  down 
behind  the  sheltering  crag,  for  a  siesta  in  the  sun.  We 
composed  ourselves  to  await  their  pleasure,  and  in  our 
first  breath  of  opportunity,  looked  ofif  south-easterly,  over 
the  meadow  whereon  the  two  goats  had  been  feeding. 
And  then  we  saw  a  sight  of  sights. 

Rising  into  view  out  of  a  little  depression  on  the  far- 
ther side  of  the  meadow,  lazily  sauntering  along,  there 
came  ten  big,  snow-white  billy  goats!  They  were  head- 
ing straight  toward  us,  and  there  was  not  a  nanny,  nor  a 
kid,  nor  even  a  young  billy  in  the  bunch.  The  air  was 
clear;  the  sun  was  shining  brightly,  the  meadow  was  like 
dark  olive-brown  plush, — and  how  grandly  those  big, 
pure-white  creatures  did  loom  up!  When  first  seen  they 
were  about  four  hundred  yards  away,  but  our  glasses 
made  the  distance  seem  only  one-third  of  that. 

For  more  than  an  hour  we  lay  flat  on  our  pinnacle, 
and  watched  those  goats.  No  one  thought  of  time.  It 
was  a  chance  of  a  lifetime.  My  companions  were  pro- 
foundly surprised  by  the  size  of  the  collection;  for  pre- 
vious to  that  moment,  no  member  of  our  party  ever  had 
seen  more  than  four  big  male  goats  in  one  bunch. 

The  band  before  us  was  at  the  very  top  of  a  sky- 
meadow  of  unusual  luxuriance,  which  climbed  up  out  of 
the  valley  on  our  right,  and  ran  on  up  to  the  comb  of 
rock  that  came  down  from  Phillips  Peak.  In  area  the 
meadow  was  five  hundred  yards  wide,  and  half  a  mile 


The   Sky    Pasture  of  the  Thirteen    ''Billy"    Goats 

Elevation,  about  9,000  feet.     The  goats  occupied  the  center  of  the  picture,  but  appear  only  as  white  specks. 
'J'he  hunters  lay  on   the  top  of  a  pinnacle  like  that  in  the  foreground. 


Taking   the    First   Shot 

The  end  of  "Old  Two-Teeth."     Guide  Smith  lies  within  six  feet  of  the  brink  of  a  precipice. 


A  GREAT  DAY  WITH  GOATS     83 

long.  Afterward,  when  we  walked  over  it,  we  found  it 
was  free  from  stones,  but  full  of  broad  steps,  and  covered 
with  a  dense,  greenish-purple  matting  of  ground  verdure 
that  was  as  soft  to  the  foot  as  the  thickest  pile  carpet. 
The  main  body  of  this  verdure  is  a  moss-like  plant  called 
mountain  avens,  closely  related  to  cinquefoil,  and  known 
botanically  as  Dryas  octopetala.  It  has  a  very  pretty 
leaf  measuring  about  iV  by  3^  inches,  with  finely  serrate 
edges.  In  September  a  mass  of  it  contains  a  mixture  of 
harmonious  colors, — olive-green,  brown,  gray  and  pur- 
ple. On  this  the  goats  were  feeding.  This  plant  is  very 
common  in  those  mountains  above  timber-line,  especially 
on  southern  slopes;  but  it  demands  a  bit  of  ground  almost 
exclusively  for  itself,  and  thrives  best  when  alone. 

Along  with  this  there  grew  a  moss-like  saxifrage 
(Saxifraga  austromontana) ,  which  to  any  one  not  a 
botanist  seems  to  be  straight  moss.  It  grows  in  cheerful 
little  clumps  of  bright  green,  and  whenever  it  is  found 
on  a  mountain-pasture,  one  is  pleased  to  meet  it. 

I  record  these  notes  here,  because  our  ten  goats  had 
been  in  no  hurry.  They  were  more  than  deliberate;  they 
were  almost  stagnant.  In  an  hour,  the  farthest  that  any 
one  of  them  moved  was  about  one  hundred  yards,  and 
the  most  of  them  accomplished  even  less  than  that.  They 
were  already  so  well  fed  that  they  merely  minced  at  the 
green  things  around  them.  Evidently  they  had  fed  to 
satiety  in  the  morning  hours,  before  we  reached  them. 

As  they  straggled  forward,  they  covered  about  two 
acres  of  ground.  Each  one  seemed  steeped  and  sodden 
in  laziness.    When  out  grazing,  our  giant  tortoises  move 


84     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE    CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

faster  than  they  did  on  that  lazy  afternoon.  When  the 
leader  of  this  band  of  weary  Willies  reached  the  geo- 
graphical centre  of  the  sky-meadow,  about  two  hundred 
yards  from  us,  he  decided  to  take  a  sun-bath,  on  the  most 
luxurious  basis  possible  to  him.  Slowly  he  focussed  his 
mind  upon  a  level  bench  of  earth,  about  four  feet  wide. 
It  contained  an  old  goat-bed,  of  loose  earth,  and  upon 
this  he  lay  down,  with  his  back  uphill. 

At  this  point,  however,  he  took  a  sudden  resolution. 
After  about  a  minute  of  reflection,  he  decided  that  the 
head  of  his  bed  was  too  high  and  too  humpy;  so,  bracing 
himself  back  with  his  right  foreleg,  like  an  ancient  Ro- 
man senator  at  a  feast,  he  set  his  left  leg  in  motion  and 
flung  out  from  under  his  breast  a  quantity  of  earth.  The 
loose  soil  rose  in  a  black  shower,  two  feet  high,  and  the 
big  hoof  flung  it  several  feet  down  the  hill.  After  about 
a  dozen  rakes,  he  settled  down  to  bask  in  the  warm  sun- 
shine, and  blink  at  the  scenery  of  Avalanche  Valley. 

Five  minutes  later,  a  little  higher  up  the  slope,  an- 
other goat  did  the  same  thing;  and  eventually  two  or 
three  others  laid  down.  One,  however,  deliberately  sat 
down  on  his  haunches,  dog-fashion,  with  his  back  uphill. 
For  fully  a  quarter  of  an  hour  he  sat  there  in  profile, 
slowly  turning  his  head  from  side  to  side,  and  gazing  at 
the  scenery  while  the  wind  blew  through  his  whiskers. 

So  far  as  I  could  determine,  no  sentinel  was  posted. 
There  was  no  leader,  and  no  individual  seemed  particu- 
larly on  the  alert  for  enemies.  One  and  all,  they  felt 
perfectly  secure. 

In  observing  those  goats  one  fact  became  very  notice- 


A  GREAT  DAY  WITH  GOATS      85 

able.  At  a  little  distance,  their  legs  looked  very  straight 
and  stick-like,  devoid  of  all  semblance  of  gracefulness 
and  of  leaping  power.  The  animals  were  very  white  and 
immaculate, — as  were  all  the  goats  that  we  saw, — and 
they  stood  out  with  the  sharpness  of  clean  snow-patches 
on  dark  rock.  Nature  may  have  known  about  the  much 
overworked  principle  of  "  protective  coloration  "  when 
she  fashioned  the  mountain  goat,  but  if  so,  she  was 
guilty  of  cruelty  to  goats  in  clothing  this  creature  with 
pelage  which,  in  the  most  comfortable  season  for  hunt- 
ing, renders  it  visible  for  three  miles  or  more.  Even 
the  helpless  kidling  is  as  white  as  cotton,  and  a  grand 
mark  for  eagles. 

That  those  goats  should  look  so  stiff  and  genuinely 
ungraceful  on  their  legs,  gave  me  a  distinct  feeling  of 
disappointment.  From  that  moment  I  gave  up  all  hope 
of  ever  seeing  a  goat  perform  any  feats  requiring  either 
speed  or  leaping  powers;  for  we  saw  that  of  those  short, 
thick  legs, — nearly  as  straight  as  four  Indian  clubs, — 
nothing  is  to  be  expected  save  power  in  lifting  and  slid- 
ing, and  rocklike  steadfastness.  In  all  the  two  hundred 
and  thirty-nine  goats  that  we  saw,  we  observed  nothing 
to  disprove  the  conclusive  evidence  of  that  day  regard- 
ing the  physical  powers  of  the  mountain  goat. 

While  we  watched  the  band  of  mountain  loafers,  still 
another  old  billy  goat,  making  No.  13,  appeared  across 
the  rock  basin  far  to  our  left.  From  the  top  of  the 
northern  ridge,  he  set  out  to  walk  across  the  wide  rock 
wall  that  formed  the  western  face  of  Phillips  Peak. 
From  where  we  were  the  wall  seemed  almost  smooth,  but 


86     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE    CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

to  the  goat  it  must  have  looked  otherwise.  Choosing  a 
narrow,  light-gray  line  of  stratification  that  extended 
across  the  entire  width  of  the  wall,  the  solitary  animal 
set  out  on  its  promenade.  The  distance  to  be  traversed 
to  reach  the  uppermost  point  of  our  sky-pasture  was 
about  fifteen  hundred  feet,  and  the  contour  line  chosen 
was  about  four  hundred  feet  above  our  position.  The 
incident  was  like  a  curtain-raiser  to  a  tragic  play. 

That  goat's  walk  was  a  very  tame  performance.  The 
animal  plodded  steadily  along,  never  faster,  never  slower, 
but  still  with  a  purposeful  air,  like  a  postman  delivering 
mail.  For  a  mountain  goat,  not  pursued  or  frightened, 
it  was  a  rapid  walk,  probably  three  miles  an  hour.  Its 
legs  swung  to  and  fro  with  the  regularity  and  steadiness 
of  four  pendulums,  and  I  think  they  never  once  paused. 
The  animal  held  to  that  one  line  of  stratification,  until 
near  the  end  of  its  promenade.  There  a  great  mass  of 
rock  had  broken  away  from  the  face  of  the  cliff,  and  the 
goat  was  forced  to  climb  down  about  fifty  feet,  then  up 
again,  to  regain  its  chosen  route.  A  few  minutes  later 
its  ledge  ran  out  upon  the  apex  of  the  sky-meadow. 
There  Billy  paused  for  a  moment,  to  look  about  him; 
then  he  picked  out  a  soft  spot,  precisely  where  the  steep 
slope  of  the  meadow  ended  against  the  rocky  peak,  and 
lay  down  to  rest. 

Up  to  that  time,  Mr.  Phillips  and  I  had  killed  only 
one  goat  each,  and  as  we  lay  there  we  had  time  to  de- 
cide upon  the  future.  He  resolved  to  kill  one  fine  goat 
as  a  gift  to  the  Carnegie  Museum,  and  I  wished  two 
more  for  my  own  purposes.    We  decided  that  at  a  total 


A  GREAT  DAY  WITH  GOATS      87 

of  three  goats  each, — two  less  than  our  lawful  right, — 
we  would  draw  the  line,  and  kill  no  more. 

The  first  shot  at  the  pair  of  invisible  goats  was  to  be 
mine;  and  as  already  suggested,  the  circumstances  were 
like  those  surrounding  a  brief  moving  target  in  a  shoot- 
ing-gallery. Before  us  were  two  rocky  crag-points,  and 
behind  the  one  on  the  left,  the  animals  lay  hidden  for 
fully  an  hour.  Between  the  two  crags  the  V-shaped 
spot  of  the  meadow,  across  which  I  knew  my  goat  would 
walk  or  run,  looked  very  small.  If  he  moved  a  yard  too 
far,  the  right-hand  crag  would  hide  him  from  me  until 
he  would  be  three  hundred  yards  away.  I  was  compelled 
to  keep  my  rifle  constantly  ready,  and  one  eye  to  the 
front,  in  order  to  see  my  goat  in  time  to  get  a  shot  at 
him  while  he  crossed  that  forty  feet  of  ground. 

And  after  all,  I  came  ever  so  near  to  making  a  fail- 
ure of  my  vigil.  I  was  so  absorbed  in  watching  that 
unprecedented  band  of  billies  that  before  I  knew  it,  the 
two  goats  were  in  the  centre  of  the  V-shaped  stage,  and 
moving  at  a  good  gait  across  it.     Horrors! 

Hurriedly  I  exclaimed  to  Mr.  Phillips,  "  There  they 
are!"  took  a  hurried  aim  at  the  tallest  goat,  and  just  as 
his  head  was  going  out  of  sight,  let  go.  He  flinched 
upward  at  the  shoulders,  started  forward  at  a  trot,  and 
instantly  disappeared  from  my  view. 

The  instant  my  rifle  cracked,  Mr.  Phillips  said, 
imperatively, 

''  Don't  move!  Don't  make  a  sound,  and  those  goats 
will  stay  right  where  they  are." 

Instantly  we  "  froze."    All  the  goats  sprang  up,  and 


88     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE    CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

stood  at  attention.  All  looked  fixedly  in  our  direction, 
but  the  distant  eleven  were  like  ourselves, — frozen  into 
statues.  In  that  band  not  a  muscle  moved  for  fully  three 
minutes. 

Finally  the  goats  decided  that  the  noise  they  had 
heard  was  nothing  at  which  to  be  alarmed.  One  by  one 
their  heads  began  to  move,  and  in  five  minutes  their 
fright  was  over.  Some  went  on  feeding,  but  three  or 
four  of  the  band  decided  that  they  would  saunter  down 
our  way  and  investigate  that  noise. 

But  what  of  my  goat? 

John  slid  over  to  my  left,  to  look  as  far  as  possible 
behind  the  intercepting  crag.     Finally  he  said, 

"  He's  done  for!    He's  lying  out  there,  dead." 

As  soon  as  possible  I  looked  at  him;  and  sure  enough, 
he  lay  stretched  upon  the  grass,  back  uphill,  and  appar- 
ently very  dead.  The  other  goat  had  gone  on  and  joined 
the  ten. 

The  investigating  committee  came  walking  down 
toward  us  with  a  briskness  which  soon  brought  them 
within  rifle-shot;  and  then  Mr.  Phillips  picked  out  his 
Carnegie  Museum  goat  and  opened  fire,  at  a  range  of 
about  three  hundred  yards.  The  first  shot  went  high, 
but  at  the  next  the  goat  came  down,  hit  behind  the  shoul- 
der. This  greatly  alarmed  all  the  other  goats,  but  they 
were  so  confused  that  three  of  them  came  down  toward 
us  at  a  fast  trot.  At  two  hundred  yards  I  picked  out 
one,  and  fired.  At  my  third  shot,  it  fell,  but  presently 
scrambled  up,  ran  for  the  edge  of  the  precipice  and 
dropped  over  out  of  sight.    It  landed,  mortally  wounded, 


A  GREAT  DAY  WITH  GOATS      89 

on  some  ragged  rocks  about  fifty  feet  down,  and  to  end 
its  troubles  a  shot  from  the  edge  quickly  finished  it. 

Mr.  Phillips  killed  his  first  goat,  and  before  the 
bunch  got  away,  broke  the  leg  of  another.  This  also  got 
over  the  edge  of  the  precipice,  and  had  to  be  finished  up 
from  the  edge. 

But  a  strange  thing  remains  to  be  told. 

By  the  time  Mr.  Phillips  and  I  had  each  fired  about 
two  shots  of  the  last  round,  in  the  course  of  which  we 
ran  well  over  to  the  right  in  order  to  command  the  field, 
to  our  blank  amazement  my  first  goat, — the  dead  one! — 
staggered  to  his  feet,  and  started  off  toward  the  edge  of 
the  precipice.  It  was  most  uncanny  to  see  a  dead  animal 
thus  come  to  life! 

"  Look,  Director,"  cried  Charlie  Smith,  "  your  first 
goat's  come  to  life!  Kill  him  again!  Kill  him  again, 
quick!  " 

I  did  so;  and  after  the  second  killing  he  remained 
dead.  I  regret  to  say  that  in  my  haste  to  get  those  goats 
measured,  skinned,  and  weighed  before  night,  I  was  so 
absorbed  that  I  forgot  to  observe  closely  where  my  first 
shot  struck  the  goat  that  had  to  be  killed  twice.  I  think 
however,  that  it  went  through  his  liver  and  other  organs 
without  touching  the  vital  portions  of  the  lungs. 

My  first  goat  was  the  tallest  one  of  the  six  we  killed 
on  that  trip,  but  not  the  heaviest.  He  was  a  real  patri- 
arch, and  decidedly  on  the  downhill  side  of  life.  He 
was  so  old  that  he  had  but  two  incisor  teeth  remaining, 
and  they  were  so  loose  they  were  almost  useless.  He 
was  thin  in  flesh,  and  his  pelage  was  not  up  to  the  mark 


90     CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

in  length.  But  in  height  he  was  tall,  for  he  stood  forty- 
two  inches  at  the  shoulders,  with  the  foreleg  pushed  up 
where  it  belongs  in  a  standing  animal. 

Mr.  Phillips's  Carnegie  Museum  goat  was  the  heavi- 
est one  shot  on  that  trip,  its  gross  weight  being  two  hun- 
dred and  seventy-six  pounds. 

Charlie  decided  to  roll  the  skinned  carcass  of  my 
goat  down  the  mountain,  if  possible  within  rifle-shot  of 
the  highest  point  of  green  timber,  in  the  hope  that  a 
grizzly  might  find  it,  and  thereby  furnish  a  shot.  He 
cut  of?  the  legs  at  the  knees,  and  started  the  body  rolling 
on  the  sky-pasture,  end  over  end.  It  went  like  a  wheel, 
whirling  down  at  a  terrific  rate,  sometimes  jumping  fifty 
feet.  It  went  fully  a  quarter  of  a  mile  before  it  reached 
a  small  basin,  and  stopped.  The  other  carcass,  also,  was 
rolled  down.  It  went  sidewise,  like  a  bag  of  grain,  and 
did  not  roll  quite  as  far  as  the  other. 

By  the  time  we  had  finished  our  work  on  the  goats, — 
no  trifling  task, — night  was  fast  approaching,  and  leav- 
ing all  the  heads,  skins  and  meat  for  the  morrow,  we 
started  for  our  new  camp,  five  miles  away. 

We  went  down  the  meadow  (thank  goodness!),  and 
soon  struck  the  green  timber;  and  then  we  went  on  down, 
down,  and  still  farther  down,  always  at  thirty  degrees, 
until  it  seemed  to  me  we  never  would  stop  going  down, 
never  reach  the  bottom  and  the  trail.  But  everything 
earthly  has  an  end.  At  the  end  of  a  very  long  stretch  of 
plunging  and  sliding,  we  reached  Avalanche  Creek,  and 
drank  deeply  of  the  icy-cold  water  for  which  we  had  so 
long  been  athirst. 


A  GREAT  DAY  WITH  GOATS      91 

After  three  miles  of  travel  down  the  creek,  over  slide- 
rock,  through  green  timber,  yellow  willows,  more  green 
timber  and  some  down  timber,  we  heard  the  cheerful 
whack  of  Huddleston's  axe,  and  saw  on  tree-trunk  and 
bough  the  ruddy  glow  of  the  new  camp-fire. 

The  new  camp  was  pitched  in  one  of  the  most  fas- 
cinating spots  I  ever  camped  within.  The  three  tents 
stood  at  the  southern  edge  of  a  fine,  open  grove  of  giant 
spruces  that  gave  us  good  shelter  on  rainy  days.  Under- 
neath the  trees  there  was  no  underbrush,  and  the  ground 
was  deeply  carpeted  with  dry  needles.  Grand  moun- 
tains rose  on  either  hand,  practically  from  our  camp- 
fire,  and  for  our  front  view  a  fine  valley  opened  south- 
ward for  six  miles,  until  its  lower  end  was  closed  by  the 
splendid  mass  of  Roth  Mountain  and  Glacier.  Close  at 
hand  was  a  glorious  pool  of  ice-water,  and  firewood  "  to 
burn."  Yes,  there  was  one  other  feature,  of  great  mo- 
ment,— abundant  grass  for  our  horses,  in  the  open 
meadow  in  front  of  the  tents. 

To  crown  all  these  luxuries,  Mr.  Phillips  announced 
that,  according  to  mountain  customs  already  established, 
and  precedents  fully  set,  that  camp  would  then  and  there 
be  named  in  my  honor, — "  Camp  Hornaday."  What 
more  could  any  sportsman  possibly  desire? 


CHAPTER   VIII 

THE  MOUNTAIN  GOAT  AS  WE  SAW  HIM 

A  Mountain  Goat's  Paradise — General  Character  of  the  Animal — Its 
Place  in  Nature — Not  an  "Antelope" — Description — Distribution — 
Food — Sleeping-Places — Accidents  in  Snow-Slides — Swimming — 
Stupid  or  Not  Stupid — Courage — A  Philosophic  Animal — Affection 
— Fighting  Powers — A  Goat  Kills  a  Grizzly — Bear-Shy  Goats — 
The  Tragedy  of  the  Self-Trapped  Goats. 

"  On  dizzy  ledge  of  mountain  wall,  above  the  timber-line, 
I  hear  the  riven  slide-rock  fall  toward  the  stunted  pine. 
Upon  the  paths  I  tread  secure  no  foot  dares  follow  me, 
For  I  am  master  of  the  crags,  and  march  above  the  scree." 

— The  Cragmaster. 

Of  the  thirty  days  spent  by  us  in  the  home  of  the 
mountain  goat,  two  only  were  devoted  to  hunting  goats 
to  shoot  them.  Scarcely  a  day  passed  without  at  least 
one  flock  of  goats  in  sight.  We  saw  two  hundred  and 
thirty-nine  individuals,  challenging  all  repeaters,  and 
carefully  eliminating  those  seen  a  second  or  third  time. 
It  was  because  we  shot  little  that  we  saw  much. 

The   high   country  between   the   Elk   and   the   Bull 

Rivers  is  indeed  a  mountain  goat's  paradise,  and  what  I 

there  saw  of  that  strange  creature  gave  me  an  entirely 

new  set  of  impressions  regarding  its  character  and  habits. 

We  studied   goats   alive,   we   photographed  them,   shot 

92 


THE   MOUNTAIN   GOAT   AS  WE   SAW  HIM     93 

them,  measured,  weighed  and  ate  them.  Finally,  we 
brought  back  with  us  five  living  specimens;  and  as  I 
became  really  acquainted  with  this  creature,  its  stock 
gradually  rose  to  par. 

In  its  form,  the  mountain  goat  is  the  most  pictu- 
resque and  droll-looking  of  all  our  large  game  ani- 
mals. In  some  respects  it  is  the  bravest  and  hardiest  of 
our  hoofed  animals,  and  the  only  one  that  is  practically 
devoid  of  fear. 

I  am  tempted  to  believe  that  of  the  few  men  who 
have  hunted  this  strange  animal,  not  many  have  taken 
time  to  become  thoroughly  acquainted  with  it,  or  to  for- 
mulate a  careful  estimate  of  its  character  as  revealed 
in  its  native  mountains.  Many  writers  have  called  it 
stupid,  and  very  few  have  recognized  it  as  an  unrivalled 
mountaineer. 

It  is  folly  to  attempt  to  compare  any  animal  with 
the  Himalayan  tahr,  the  markhor,  ibex  or  chamois  until 
the  comparer  has  seen  and  studied  them  in  their  homes. 
It  is  my  belief,  however,  that  no  animal,  hoofed  or 
clawed,  can  surpass  the  climbing  feats  of  the  mountain 
goat.  Certainly  there  is  no  American  quadruped,  not 
even  the  bold  and  hardy  mountain  sheep,  which  will 
with  the  utmost  indifference  climb  an  eighty-degree 
precipice,  or  jog  across  the  face  of  a  five-hundred-foot 
wall  on  a  footing  so  narrow  and  uncertain  that  the 
strongest  glass  cannot  detect  it.  I  have  never  seen  a 
mountain  sheep  take  such  desperate  chances  on  the  rocks 
as  any  goat  will  essay  as  serenely  as  a  boulevardier 
promenades  along  a  ten-foot  sidewalk. 


94     CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

Once  while  bear-hunting  at  Lake  Josephine  with 
Charlie  Smith,  we  came  to  a  particularly  high,  long  and 
smooth  precipice.  The  rock  wall  was  nearly  half  a  mile 
long,  and  I  think  at  least  six  hundred  feet  high,  with  a 
hundred  feet  of  very  steep  slide-rock  at  its  foot.  It 
curved  around  a  basin,  like  the  wall  of  a  gigantic  Colos- 
seum. A  big  and  shaggy  billy  goat  elected  to  walk  across 
the  face  of  that  appalling  wall,  about  half-way  from  bot- 
tom to  top,  and  as  we  slowly  marched  past  far  below,  we 
watched  him. 

He  was  so  high  up  that  he  felt  no  fear  of  us,  and  on 
the  dizzy  course  that  he  elected  to  take,  he  looked  like 
a  mechanical  toy  pegging  along.  In  that  clear  air, 
however,  our  glasses  brought  him  down  to  us  exceed- 
ingly well. 

As  is  always  the  case  when  upon  rocks,  the  firmness 
with  which  each  hoof  was  planted, — to  avoid  slips,  and 
to  detect  loose  rocks, — gave  the  animal  a  very  stiflf  gait. 
His  steps  were  long,  as  regular  as  the  tick  of  a  clock, 
and  not  for  one  second  did  the  animal  hesitate  regard- 
ing his  course.  His  gait  was  as  steady  as  if  he  were 
walking  along  a  smooth  road,  and  the  directness  of  his 
course  was  remarkable.  Occasionally  he  paused  to  look 
down  and  scrutinize  us,  but  after  each  inspection  he 
jogged  on  as  indifferently  as  before.  I  am  sure  no 
mountain  sheep,  nor  any  other  American  animal,  ever 
would  attempt  to  go  over  that  appalling  course.  It  was 
a  sight  worth  coming  far  to  see. 

How  could  the  goat  have  known  that  a  practicable 
route  lay  before  him?    There  must  have  been  a  stratum 


THE   MOUNTAIN   GOAT   AS  WE   SAW  HIM     95 

of  rock,  harder  than  that  above  it,  which  had  disinte- 
grated more  slowly  than  the  rest  of  the  wall,  and  left  a 
projecting  rim;  but  if  so,  our  glasses  failed  to  show  it. 
The  spectacle  we  saw  was  of  a  big  goat  briskly  prome- 
nading on  nothing,  straight  across  the  face  of  a  bare  wall. 
We  watched  him  with  bated  breath,  as  one  watches  a 
steeple-jack  who  is  repairing  a  finial;  and  for  my  part, 
I  would  not  have  shot  him  for  a  hundred  dollars.  To 
have  killed  him  as  he  traced  out  that  dizzy  path  would 
have  been  murder,  no  less;  and  think  of  the  unforgetable 
horror  of  his  fall  through  space  upon  that  jagged  slide- 
rock! 

Among  naturalists,  a  good  deal  has  been  said  about 
the  inappropriateness  of  calling  this  animal  a  "  goat." 
Some  have  laid  stress  upon  its  antelope-like  characters, 
and  some  have  seriously  proposed,  and  even  used,  the 
name  "  goat  antelope."  If  the  mountain  goat  has  about 
him  anything  that  is  particularly  like  the  typical  ante- 
lopes, it  must  be  very  deep  down  in  his  anatomy,  for 
thus  far  it  never  has  been  pointed  out.  Think  of  an 
antelope  with  a  form  like  a  pygmy  bison,  carrying  its 
head  lower  than  its  shoulders!  Certainly  the  resem- 
blance alleged  is  not  found  in  his  massive  hoofs,  his  short 
cannon  bone,  his  six-inch  tail,  his  thick  and  postlike 
legs,  or  his  two  humps.  The  strange  glands  behind  his 
horns  are  absolutely  unique.  His  shoulder  hump  is  like 
that  of  the  European  bison,  but  the  hair-hump  on  his 
hindquarters  is  not  reproduced  on  any  other  animal.  His 
hairy  coat  is  as  unlike  that  of  all  antelopes  now  living 
as  could  possibly  be  imagined.     His  huge,  india-rubber 


g6     CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

hoof  resembles  that  of  an  antelope  about  as  much  as  the 
hoof  of  a  cow  resembles  that  of  a  deer,  but  no  more. 
This  creature  may  not  be  a  twin  brother  to  Capra  hircus 
— the  first  known  goat;  but  at  the  same  time,  it  is  at  least 
a  million  years  from  being  an  '^  antelope,"  of  any  sort. 
In  fact,  its  build  is  far  heavier  than  that  of  the  other 
members  of  the  two  subfamilies  of  goats,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  long-necked,  slender-limibed  and  agile  antelopes. 
A  real  crag-climbing  antelope  would  indeed  be  a  zoolog- 
ical novelty. 

It  is  sometimes  said  that  this  animal  is  not  a  "  goat " 
because  it  does  not  belong  to  the  genus  Capra,  a  group 
of  animals  restricted  to  the  Old  World.  But  there  are 
a  number  of  goats  that  do  not  belong  to  that  genus,  just 
as  there  are  many  deer  that  are  not  found  in  the  genus 
Cervus.  The  word  "  goat "  is  a  family  name,  the  same 
as  "  deer."  Shall  we  quarrel  with  the  name  "  deer  "  as 
applied  to  our  mule  deer,  or  white-tailed  deer,  because 
they  are  outside  the  pale  of  Cervus?  And  yet,  such  a 
departure  would  be  quite  as  well  justified  as  are  the 
objections  to  '^  goat "  for  the  white  cragmaster  of  the 
Rockies.  If  there  are  any  writers  who  wish  to  call 
Oreamnos  an  "  antelope,"  let  them  do  so;  but  the  Reader 
is  advised  that  in  adhering  to  the  name  "  mountain  goat " 
he  will  be  sufficiently  correct. 

In  order  to  set  forth  at  a  glance  the  mountain  goat's 
place  in  nature,  and  also  its  nearest  relatives,  this  dia- 
gram is  offered: 


THE   MOUNTAIN   GOAT   AS  WE   SAW  HIM     97 


Q 

M 

o 
o 

w 

K 

I  d 
<'^ 
hS 

o 

M 

Q 

P< 
O 


C 


Q 

O      f« 

5     "u 


(U 

H 


Subfamily 
Caprine: 
The  Long- 
horned  Goats. 


Subfamily 

RUPICAPRIN^: 

The  Short- 
horned  Goats. 


Genus 
First-known  Goats     .        .        .        Capra 
Persia,  Greece,  Palestine,  etc. 
Ibexes  ....  .        .         Capra 

Asia,  Europe,  N-E  Africa. 

Turs Capra 

Spain,  Caucasus  Mountains. 

Markhors Capra 

.  Himalayas,  north-west  of  India. 

Tahrs  (usually  placed  in  Cap- 

rinae)    ....      Hemitragus 

India,  north  and  south;  Arabia. 
Serows,  or  Forest  Goats    .    Nemorhcedus 

North-east  Asia  and  Japan. 
Gorals Cemas 

North  India,  Tibet  and  China. 
Rocky  Mountain  Goat  .  Oreamnos 

North-western  North  America. 
Chamois       ....         Rupicapra 

Southern  Europe. 
Takin   ......  Budorcas 

Southern  China. 


The  classification  of  both  these  subfamilies  was 
founded  upon  the  genus  Capra^  as  first  represented  by 
the  goats  of  Greece,  Persia  and  Asia  Minor.  Later  on, 
to  avoid  the  multiplication  of  genera,  the  ibexes,  mar- 
khors and  others  were  taken  into  that  genus.  The  goats 
of  the  Subfamily  CapriruB  are  partly  distinguished  by 
flattened  horns  of  considerable  length,  which  sometimes 
curve  upward  in  remarkable  lines.  From  all  these  forms 
the  Rocky  Mountain  goat  differs  materially,  just  as  the 
prong-horned  antelope  differs  from  African  antelopes. 

The  members  of  the  Subfamily  CaprincB  are  so  much 
alike  that  they  stand  in  one  group,  like  a  three-peaked 
island  rising  out  of  a  sea.    In  the  Subfamily  RupicapriruB 


98     CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

there  are  six  solitary  islets,  one  each  for  the  tahrs,  serows, 
gorals,  mountain  goat,  chamois  and  takin, — all  of  them 
short-horned  goats,  no  more,  no  less. 

In  its  physical  aspect  the  mountain  goat  is  both  strik- 
ing and  peculiar.  In  September  it  is  brilliantly  white, 
and  its  coat  is  as  immaculate  as  a  new  fur  cloak  fresh 
from  the  hands  of  the  furrier.  From  nose  to  tail,  it  is 
newly  combed,  and  without  spot  or  stain.  It  seems  as 
white  as  newly  fallen  snow,  but  in  direct  comparison 
with  snow  there  is  a  faint,  cream-like  tint.  It  is  the  only 
wild  hoofed  animal  in  the  world  (s.  f.  a.  k.)  which  is 
pure  white  all  the  year  round;  for  in  spring  and  summer 
the  white  mountain  sheep  stains  his  coat  very  badly. 

The  pelage  of  the  mountain  goat  is  the  finest  and 
softest,  and  also  the  warmest,  to  be  found  on  any  North 
American  hoofed  animal  except  the  musk-ox.  To  wind, 
dry  cold  and  snow  it  is  seemingly  impervious,  but  there 
are  times  and  seasons  when  the  rain-coat  is  imperfect,  and 
too  short  to  shed  rain.  In  September,  the  rain-coat  is 
not  fully  developed,  and  the  fine  pelage  which  covers 
the  sides  is  almost  as  soft  as  down.  As  winter  approaches, 
the  fine  hair  of  the  under  coat  seems  to  stop  growing, 
but  the  coarser  and  straighter  hair  of  the  rain-coat  keeps 
on  until  it  has  attained  such  luxuriant  length  that  the 
animal  takes  on  a  shaggy  appearance.  Late  in  Novem- 
ber this  reaches  its  full  length.  Even  in  September,  the 
beard  and  knee-breeches  are  of  good  length,  and  these, 
with  the  queerly  rounded  crests,  on  the  shoulders  and  on 
the  hindquarters,  contain  the  only  hair  of  the  whole  coat 
that  is  coarse  and  harsh. 


Front   Foot   of  a    Mountain   Goat 


Hind   Foot   of  a    Mountain   Goat 


Tlie   Function   ot   a    Mountain    Goat's    Rear   Dew-Claws 

They  are  used  as  a  brake  in  descending  inclines  that  are  very  steep  and  smooth.       Drawn  as  seen  in  use,  in 

the  Zoological   Park,   New  York. 


THE   MOUNTAIN   GOAT   AS  WE   SAW  HIM     ^c) 

About  six  goats  out  of  every  seven  are  pure  white, 
but  the  coat  of  the  seventh  contains  in  its  tail,  and  along 
the  pelvic  crest,  a  few  scattering,  dark-brown  hairs.  This 
is  noticeable  on  kids  in  their  first  year,  as  well  as  on 
adult  animals.  Occasionally  the  tail  of  a  goat  contains 
so  many  dark  hairs  that  the  normal  color  is  really 
changed;  but  it  should  be  remembered  that  these  occa- 
sional occurrences  of  brown  hairs  do  not  indicate  any 
specific  differences. 

The  goat  is  very  stockily  built, — for  stability  and 
strength  rather  than  for  agility  and  speed.  The  long 
spinal  processes  of  his  dorsal  vertebrae  give  him  a  hump 
somewhat  like  that  of  a  bison;  and  like  a  bison  he  carries 
his  head  low,  and  has  short,  thick  legs,  terminating  in 
big  hoofs.  His  body  is  big  and  full,  and  his  sides  stick 
out  with  plenty.  He  can  carry  his  head  above  the  line  of 
his  neck  and  shoulders,  but  he  seldom  does  so  save  when 
frightened,  or  looking  up. 

His  horns  are  jet  black,  round,  very  smooth  for  the 
terminal  half,  and  sharp  as  skewers.  When  the  goat 
fights,  he  gets  close  up  to  his  assailant's  forequarters,  and 
with  a  powerful  thrust  diagonally  upward,  punctures  his 
enemy's  abdomen.  In  attacking,  the  movements  of  the 
goat  are  exceedingly  jerky  and  spasmodic,  advancing  and 
whirling  away  again  with  the  quick  jumps  of  the  mod- 
ern prize-fighter.  The  horns  are  not  long,  usually  rang- 
ing in  length  from  9  to  ii  inches  by  5%  inches  in  basal 
circumference.  The  longest  pair  on  record  is  owned  by 
Mr.  Clive  Phillips-Wolley,  of  Victoria,  B.  C,  and  its 
length  is  eleven  and  one-half  inches. 


loo  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

The  gland  behind  the  horn  of  the  mountain  goat 
is  largest  during  September  and  October,  and  subsides 
somewhat  after  the  close  of  the  mating  season.  If  it 
serves  any  useful  purpose,  that  purpose  is  as  yet  un- 
known. On  September  nth,  each  gland  is  about  the 
size  of  a  small  black-walnut,  flattened  on  the  naked  sur- 
face which  touches  the  horn,  and  round  within  the  skin. 
Instead  of  lying  flat  upon  the  skull,  as  shown  by  many 
taxidermists,  the  naked  surface  stands  upon  its  edge.  It 
is  decidedly  concave  at  the  centre,  black  in  color,  smooth, 
and  practically  odorless.  It  fits  up  closely  against  the 
base  of  the  horn,  and  of  the  naked  portion  only  a  narrow 
edge  is  visible.  We  found  no  oil,  nor  even  moisture, 
exuding.  When  cut  into  sections,  the  interior  appears 
to  be  calloused  flesh,  like  the  palm  of  the  human  hand. 
On  the  date  mentioned  above,  the  naked  portion  of  the 
gland  of  a  large  male  goat  was  one  and  one-half  inches 
in  diameter,  and  at  the  centre  there  was  a  pronounced 
depression.  Of  the  six  goats  killed  by  us,  the  horns  of 
none  showed  evidence  of  any  disintegrating  action  from 
these  glands.  Yet  one  of  my  specimens  was  very  old. 
The  female  goat  possesses  these  glands,  but  they  are  pro- 
portionately smaller  than  those  of  males  of  the  same  age. 
On  the  living  animal  they  are  not  conspicuous. 

The  eyes  of  the  adult  goat  are  not  "  jet  black."  The 
iris  is  straw-color,  a  little  darker  than  Naples  yellow, 
and  the  pupil  is  a  broad,  blunt-ended  ellipse.  J.  Kanof- 
sky,  of  New  York,  makes  them  correctly.  The  edge  of 
the  eyelid,  and  the  naked  portions  of  the  nostrils  and  lips, 
are  black.     The  eyes  of  a  young  kid  are  so  dark  they 


THE   MOUNTAIN   GOAT   AS  WE   SAW  HIM   loi 

appear  to  be  all  black,  but  when  nine  months  old  the  iris 
assumes  its  true  color. 

The  hoofs  are  like  big,  twin  masses  of  india-rubber, 
— a  ball  of  soft  rubber,  encased  in  a  strong  shell  of  hard 
rubber.  It  is  chiefly  the  soft  rubber  which  enables  this 
strange  animal  to  climb  as  it  does.  The  shell  of  hard 
rubber  is  thin,  and  around  the  front  half  of  the  hoof  it 
forms  an  edge  which  may  be  sharp  or  blunt,  according 
to  the  wear  upon  it.  On  the  front  hoofs,  this  edge  always 
is  more  worn  than  on  the  rear  hoofs,  because  the  former 
do  the  hardest  work.  The  bottom  of  a  goat's  hoof  is 
very  different  from  that  of  a  mountain  sheep,  the  former 
being  concave  near  the  toe,  and  convex  at  the  heel,  while 
that  of  the  sheep  is  a  hollow  cup,  with  sharp  edges. 

I  was  rather  pleased  at  finding  out  the  trick  by 
which  a  goat  descends  a  dangerously  steep  incline.  Over 
smooth  rock  that  stands  at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees, 
— on  which  no  man  can  stand,  much  less  move  about, — 
a  mountain  sheep  goes  down  pell-mell,  slipping,  sliding 
and  plunging  almost  helplessly  until  it  reaches  some  kind 
of  a  stopping-place. 

Not  so  the  goat.  I  once  induced  a  captive  goat  to 
descend  a  plank  inclined  at  forty-five  degrees,  and  he 
tobogganed  on  his  rear  hoofs,  with  his  monstrous  dew- 
claws  pressed  hard  upon  the  wood,  and  his  hindlegs  held 
quite  stiff.  His  hocks  were  within  three  inches  of  the 
wood  and  his  rubber-like  dew-claws  acted  as  first-class 
brakes.  His  front  hoofs  guided  his  course,  and  took 
advantage  of  every  rough  spot,  but  the  animal  did  not 
slide  upon  them,  as  he  did  upon  the  posterior  pair. 


I02  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

The  front  feet  possess  a  surprising  amount  of  grasp- 
ing power.  It  is  natural  for  a  goat  leaping  high  up  to 
hook  his  front  feet  over  any  available  edge,  and  hold  fast 
until  his  rear  hoofs  can  find  a  hold,  and  push  up.  In' 
the  Zoological  Park,  one  of  our  goats  had  a  great  fancy 
for  climbing  a  tree-box  that  protected  a  small  red-cedar 
tree,  and  perching  for  minutes  upon  the  tops  of  the  four 
posts,  seven  feet  from  the  ground.  The  posts  were  cov- 
ered with  wire  netting  of  half-inch  mesh.  The  goat 
leaped  upon  the  side  of  this,  dug  the  points  of  his  hoofs 
against  the  rough  surface,  and  kept  digging  until  he 
could  reach  the  top  of  a  post  with  one  foot,  and  hook  it 
over.  After  that  the  rest  was  easy,  and  it  was  always  a 
droll  sight  to  see  that  creature  so  poised,  calmly  survey- 
ing the  landscape. 

The  long,  straight  beard  of  a  male  goat  always  im- 
parts to  the  animal  an  uncanny,  and  even  human-like 
appearance.  When  he  sits  down,  dog-fashion,  and  turns 
his  head  first  one  way  and  then  the  other  while  he  gazes 
admiringly  upon  the  scenery  before  him,  his  appearance 
is  strongly  suggestive  of  patriarchal  humanity. 

Although  the  true  abiding-place  of  the  mountain 
goat  is  from  timber-line  to  the  tops  of  the  summit 
divides,  and  the  precipices  which  buttress  the  peaks,  it 
wanders  elsewhere  with  a  degree  of  erratic  freedom  that 
in  a  cliff-dweller  is  remarkable.  It  seems  very  strange 
for  white  goats  to  range  far  down  into  the  timber,  and 
remain  there,  but  they  often  do  so.  In  1904  a  large 
band  of  goats,  reported  at  thirty  or  more,  came  down  to 
Sparwood   station   on   the    railway   a   few   miles   below 


Bottom   of  a  Mountain   Goat's   Foot  Bottom   of  a   Sheep's    Foot 


Skeleton   of   an   Adult    Male    Mountain    Goat 

By  courtesy  of  the  Field  Columbian  Museum,  Chicago.      F.  J.  V.  Skiff,  Director. 


THE   MOUNTAIN   GOAT   AS  WE   SAW  HIM   103 

Michel,  to  visit  a  salt-lick.  At  Skaguay,  Alaska,  goats 
have  been  killed  in  the  suburbs  of  the  town,  only  a  few 
feet  above  tide-water.  Mr.  W.  H.  Wright  says  that  until 
very  recently  goats  descended  every  fall  from  the  main 
range  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  in  north-western  Mon- 
tana, and  crossed  the  level  Flathead  Valley,  a  distance 
of  about  fifteen  miles,  to  the  Mission  Mountains,  return- 
ing in  the  spring. 

The  known  range  of  the  mountain  goat  extends  from 
the  Teton  Mountains  of  Wyoming  (1892)  northward 
along  the  main  range  of  the  Rockies  to  the  latitude  of 
Ft.  Simpson,  62°.  Northward  of  that  point,  we  lack  in- 
formation, but  it  is  very  probable  that  on  the  main  Rocky 
Mountain  range  only,  but  not  westward  thereof,  it  will  be 
found  much  farther  north  than  the  sixty-second  parallel. 

Along  the  Pacific  coast,  from  Vancouver  northward 
to  Cook  Inlet,  the  range  of  this  animal  in  the  coast 
mountains  is  almost  continuous.  From  the  great  inte- 
rior area  of  Yukon  Territory,  from  the  main  chain  of  the 
Rockies  to  the  coast  mountains,  the  species  is  totally  absent. 

Regarding  the  eastern  limit  of  the  mountain  goat,  a 
surprising  record  has  come  from  Mr.  M.  P.  Dunham, 
of  Ovando,  Montana,  a  guide  and  hunter  of  forty  years' 
experience  on  the  trail,  who  knows  this  animal  very  well. 
He  states  that  in  1882  or  1883,  he  killed  two  mountain 
goats  in  the  Chalk  Buttes  on  Box  Elder  Creek,  a  tribu- 
tary of  the  Little  Missouri,  in  western  North  Dakota. 
At  first  the  great  distance  of  this  locality  (about  four 
hundred  miles)  from  the  main  range  of  the  Rockies 
made  this  report  seem  almost  incredible,  but  the  record 


I04  CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

comes  to  me  directly  from  Mr.  Dunham,  and  his  stand- 
ing fairly  compels  belief.  Between  the  Little  Missouri 
and  the  Rockies  the  great  plains  are  broken  by  only  a 
few  small  and  widely  separated  groups  of  mountains,  all 
of  which  rise  like  islands  out  of  a  sea.  Mr.  George  Bird 
Grinnell  once  received  a  report  of  goats  having  been 
killed  by  Indians  in  the  Little  Snowy  mountains,  a  group 
well  out  on  the  Montana  plains. 

The  map  accompanying  these  notes  shows  only  actual 
occurrences  of  Oreamnos  during  the  past  fifteen  years. 
Along  the  Coast  of  British  Columbia  and  Alaska,  and 
the  Stickine  and  Skeena  Rivers,  the  occurrences  reported 
were  so  numerous  that  the  lines  are  really  continuous. 
Beyond  doubt,  the  goat  occurs  in  many  localities  not 
marked  on  the  map ;  but  it  seems  best  to  be  exact,  and 
stop  short  of  uncertainties. 

We  endeavored  to  learn  something  regarding  the 
food  habits  of  the  goat  as  displayed  on  the  mountain 
summits  of  south-eastern  British  Columbia.  To  this  end, 
I  took  a  sample  of  the  contents  of  the  stomach  of  my 
first  goat,  panned  it  out,  and  permanently  preserved  a 
series  of  specimens. 

First  of  all,  we  found  that  on  those  mountains,  in  Sep- 
tember, Oreamnos  is  not  a  grazing  animal.  Of  grass  we 
found  only  a  few  blades.  It  would  seem  however,  that  this 
was  due  to  an  autumn  caprice,  for  surely  in  other  seasons, 
and  in  other  localities,  this  animal  must  feed  upon  grass. 

The  stomach  contained  no  woody  fibre,  and  nothing 
to  indicate  a  browsing  habit,  save  a  few  leaves  of  the 
yellow  willow,  which  grows  in  the  sunshine  of  open  val- 


THE   MOUNTAIN   GOAT   AS  WE   SAW  HIM   105 

leys,  or  upon  slide-ways.  In  that  locality  at  least,  the 
goat  is  not  a  September  browser.  During  our  whole 
thirty  days  on  his  home  range,  we  saw  not  one  twig,  nor 
a  piece  of  bark,  that  had  been  bitten  off  by  goat  or  sheep. 

In  September,  the  British  Columbian  goat  is  a  crop- 
per. He  lives  by  cropping  the  thick  leaves,  and  stems 
also,  of  a  number  of  large  weedlike  plants  which  grow 
abundantly  up  to  timber-line.  Our  first  two  goats  were 
shot  while  feeding  upon  a  lace-leaved  anemone  or  pasque 
flower,  called  Pulsatilla  occidentalis.  Its  leaves  are  finely 
cut  and  lacelike,  and  one  plant  furnishes  several  good 
mouthfuls.  It  was  quite  abundant,  and  the  goats  were 
fond  of  it.  We  found  it  in  fruit,  with  the  peduncle 
elongated  into  an  upright  stalk  from  eight  to  ten  inches 
high,  crowned  by  a  head  of  silky  achenes,  with  long, 
plumose  styles,  very  suggestive  of  a  ripe  dandelion. 

Here  is  the  whole  array  of  species  that  we  found  in 
my  goat's  stomach,  and  matched  by  plants  found  grow- 
ing around  our  camp.  The  entire  mass  would  have  filled 
a  peck  measure,  and  it  was  so  slightly  masticated  that  we 
had  no  great  difficulty  in  recognizing  its  principal  in- 
gredients. My  specimens  were  identified  by  Dr.  D.  T. 
MacDougal,  as  follows: 

Lace-Leaved  Anemone Pulsatilla  occidentalis 

Mountain  Sorrel Otyria  dtgyna. 

Wild  Valerian Valeriana. 

Yellow  Willow Salix. 

Squaw- Weed Senecio  triangularis. 

"Goat-Weed,"  with  flower  like  candytuft    .        .  Unidentified. 

Mountain-Timothy Phleiim  alpinum. 

"Wild  Pea" Hedysarum. 

Wild  Strawberry Unidentifiable. 


RANGE   OF  THE  WHITE   MOUNTAIN  GOAT,  AS  IT  IS  IN  1906, 
EXCEPTING  THE  TETON  MOUNTAINS 


UNITED    STATES 


Teton  Mountains,  1892 W.  H.  Wright 

Big  Hole  Country,  1899 Samuel  C.  Pirie 

Granite   Country;  Mission    Range,    Flathead 

Reservation W.  H.  Wright 

St.  Mary's  Lakes  region,  1902  .        .        .        .  A.  P.  Proctor 

Bitter  Root  Mountains W.  H.  Wright 

Washington:  Silverton,  Cascade  Mountains,  1892          .        .  A.  P.  Proctor 
Conconally,     1884;    Slocan     Mountains     and 

Lake  Chelan W.  H.  Wright 


JVyomtng: 
Montana: 


Idaho: 


BRITISH    COLUMBIA 


H.  W.  Herchmer 

John  M.  Phillips 

T.  Van  Nostrand 

Madison  Grant 

F.  Soues 

W.  Stephenson 

James  McKern 


Fernie:    1904         . 

Elk  River:  1905 

Bull  River:  1905 B 

Sfillamachene  River:  Golden,  1904 

Clinton:   1905 

Quesnel  Forks:   1905 

Bakerville  (north-east):  1905 

Slocan  Lake,  east,  1888;  Similkameen  River,  1888;  Coqui- 
halla  River,  1888;  Harrison  Lake;  Pitt  Lake, 
north;  Princess  Louise  Inlet;  Bridge  River; 
Wauchope  (Brewer  Creek);  Yellowhead 
Pass;  Canoe  River,  1885;  Head  of  Fraser 
River;  Peace  River,  longitude  125°,  latitude 
56°;  Knight  Inlet,  latitude  51°;  Bute  Inlet; 
Dean  Channel;  Gardiner  Canal;  Kitimat 
Arm;  Skeena  River  (from  Port  Essington 
200  miles  up);  Nass  River;  Stickine;  Iscoot; 
McDame  Creek  (Dease  River);  Scheslay 
River;  Francis  Lake. 

"The  Goat  is  the  most  widely  distributed 
animal  in  British  Columbia,  and  except  the 
black  bear  is  the  only  animal  found  through- 
out the  length  and  breadth  of  the  province. 
Apparently  it  is  equally  at  home  in  the  dry 
belt,  and  the  wet  coast  belt  lying  east  and 
west  of  the  Cascade  Mountains." — Letter 
and  map,  dated  March  12,  1906. 

Big-Horn  Hills:  Head  of  Athabasca  River,  1902         .        .  G.  O.  Shields 

(Eastern  slope  of  Rockies.) 
106 


Warburton  Pike 


RANGE   OF   WHITE   MOUNTAIN   GOAT.— Continued. 


Ashanola:  Similkameen;  West  Kootenay;  Bridge  River^ 
Empire  Valley;  Chilcotin;  Knight's  Inlet; 
Stickine  River,  "and  a  dozen  other  places 
between  Lagan  and  Wrangel.     It  is  not 
found  on  Vancouver  Island.     I  believe  it 
occurs  almost  everywhere  else.," — 1906.    , 
Tidewater    Inlets  :    Jervis  ;     Bute  ;    Knight's  ;    Kingcome; 
Khutze  and  Gardiner,  etc.  to  60°  north 
latitude.    Not  on  Vancouver  Island  or 
other  islands. 

Atlin:  1906 J.  Williams 

South  Fork  of  Stickine  River:  1905 Samuel  C.  Pirie 

"Skeena    and  Nass  Rivers,  for  200  miles  up,"  from  Port 

Essington A.  G.  Hains 

Goat  River  Mountains:  Isaac's  Lake  (Barkerville)        .        .       James  McKern 


Clive  Phillips-Wolley 


'Francis  Kermode 


J.  B.  Tyrrell 


YUKON   TERRITORY 

Not  found  north  of  McMillan  River 

Not  found  north  of  the  summit  of  White   Pass,  nor  near 

Lake  Bennett W.  C.  McKenzie  (Skaguay) 

Main  range  of  Rocky  Mountains,  from  Peace  River  to  lati- 
tude of  Fort  Simpson W.  J.  McLean 

Lake  Francis:  (eastward;  latitude  61°  30',  longitude  129°; 
1906).  "There  are  no  goats  in  the  Yukon 
Territory  on  the  western  slopes  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  or  other  interior  ranges. 
I  know  nothing  about  the  eastern  slopes. 
Goats  occur  on  the  eastern  slopes  of  the 
coast  ranges,  and  some  of  the  spurs.  The 
same  statement  will  apply  to  Alaska."        J 


^  Charles  Sheldon 


ALASKA 

"Almost  anywhere  near  sea-coast  from  Washington  tol 
Kenai  Peninsula."  But  "rarely  found  beyond  Coast  [ 
Range  "  (eastward),  1906.  j 

Skaguay:  Glacier  Station ■{ 

Juneau,  within  30  miles 

Chilkat  River,  45  miles  up,  1905 

Kluane  Lake,  1905 

Copper  River,  1900,  "mountains  near  mouth" 

Wrangel  Mountains,  1900  (Gerdine);  Mt.  St.  Elias  range, 
near  Yakutat,  1899;  Controller 
Bay  region;  between  Tanana  and 
White  Rivers,  1898. 

Knick  River,  1 90 1 

Kenat  Peninsula,  1903 

107 


John  W.  Worden 

A.  L.  Andrews 

W.  C.   McKenzie 

I.  N.  Stephenson 

R.  A.  Gunnison 

W.  L.  Breeze 

D.  G.  Elliot 


Alfred  H.  Brooks 


J.  Alden  Loring 
James  H.  Kidder 


io8   CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

This  is  the  greatest  array  of  species  that  I  ever  found 
in  the  stomach  of  one  animal.  It  shows  that  in  choosing 
his  food  the  goat  is  a  broad-minded  creature,  with  a 
versatile  and  vigorous  appetite.  No  wonder  his  sides  are 
round.  It  is  probable  that  in  spring  the  goat's  bill  of 
fare  includes  many  species  of  plants  not  in  the  above 
list,  and  that  throughout  the  year  it  varies  greatly.  In 
spring  the  flesh  of  this  animal  is  so  strongly  flavored  by 
the  wild  onion,  then  greedily  fed  upon,  that  it  is  quite 
unpalatable;  but  by  September  that  flavor  has  totally 
disappeared,  and  goat's  flesh,  cooked  and  seasoned  with 
a  modicum  of  intelligence,  is  then  as  good  as  venison  of 
the  same  age. 

In  winter,  goats  sometimes, — but  not  frequently — 
browse  upon  the  twigs  of  coniferous  trees.  Mr.  Phillips 
has  seen  evergreen  twigs  that  have  been  bitten  off  for 
food,  when  the  snow  lay  deep  on  the  mountains;  and  he 
says  that  in  winter  the  goats  go  down  into  the  green 
timber  to  look  for  food. 

Judging  by  what  we  saw  in  the  Elk  River  mountains, 
the  mountain  goat  avoids  the  drifting  snows  of  winter 
by  choosing  for  its  sleeping-places  the  knifelike  edges 
of  high  "  hogbacks  "  between  mountain  peaks.  And  yet, 
over  those  ridges  the  wind  sweeps  with  a  fierceness  and 
frigidity  which  it  seems  no  living  creature  could  long 
withstand.  It  is  doubtful  if  the  big-horn  ever  lies  down 
to  rest  and  to  sleep  on  a  hogback  over  which  the  wind  is 
blowing  seventy  miles  an  hour,  with  a  temperature  of 
forty  degrees  below  zero;  but  the  goat  does  this  very 
thing.    We  saw  a  dozen  ridge  summits,  paved  with  their 


THE   MOUNTAIN   GOAT  AS  WE   SAW  HIM   109 

droppings,  which  Norboe  and  Smith  assured  us  were  the 
winter  sleeping-places  of  goats.  In  winter  goats  also 
seek  food  upon  the  bleak  ridges  from  which  the  snow  is 
continually  swept  clean  by  the  wind. 

Up  to  the  time  we  left  the  mountains  (September 
30)  the  rutting  season  had  not  begun.  Our  guides  say 
it  does  not  begin  until  December  i.  The  old  male  goats 
were  living  quite  apart  from  the  herds  of  females  and 
young  males,  and  there  was  not  the  slightest  sign  of 
sexual  excitement.  The  herds  were  quiet,  to  the  point 
of  dulness.  The  open  pastures  between  timber-line  and 
the  naked  rocks  of  the  summits  were  covered  with  food, 
and  once  below  his  beloved  rocks  a  goat  had  only  to 
stoop  and  take.  Often  we  saw  goats  lie  on  their  pastures, 
motionless  for  hours,  unable  to  eat  more.  They  loved  to 
lie  on  southern  slopes,  bathing  themselves  in  the  glorious 
sunshine,  and  blinking  away  the  hours.  Whenever  a 
herd  was  sighted  at  rest,  it  was  safe  to  count  upon  its 
remaining  there  for  an  hour  or  two,  unless  disturbed  by 
a  hunter. 

Everywhere  we  went,  I  watched  the  slides  for  evi- 
dences of  accidents  to  goats  through  being  overwhelmed 
by  spring  avalanches,  but  saw  none.  I  closely  questioned 
Charlie  Smith  and  the  Norboe  brothers,  but  none  of 
them  could  recall  a  single  instance  of  a  dead  goat  in  a 
snow-slide.  They  said  the  goats  are  too  wary  to  be 
caught.  But  there  are  exceptions.  Mr.  W.  Stephen- 
son writes  me  from  Quesnel  Forks,  central  British 
Columbia,  of  a  goat  which  was  killed  in  a  snow- 
slide    in    May,    1905,    in    the    mountains    east    of    that 


no  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE    CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

town.  This  is  the  only  record  of  the  kind  that  ever 
has  come  to  me,  but  there  is  one  other  of  a  fearfully 
injured  goat,  which  I  fully  believe  was  hurt  in  an 
avalanche. 

Late  in  the  spring  of  1902,  when  Mr.  G.  O.  Shields 
was  taking  photographs  in  the  Rocky  Mountains  of 
British  Columbia,  he  found  on  a  small  mountain-pasture 
a  goat  which  for  several  days  remained  in  one  spot.  At 
last  his  curiosity  was  aroused,  and  on  procuring  a  par- 
ticularly good  view  of  the  animal  through  a  powerful 
field-glass,  he  found  that  it  had  been  seriously  injured 
by  some  accident.  "  Its  face  was  badly  cut  and  torn," 
says  Mr.  Shields,  "  and  a  section  of  its  nose  some  six 
inches  long,  extending  from  about  the  eyes  to  the  tip  of 
the  nose,  was  an  open  sore.  There  was  also  a  wound  in 
one  shoulder.  I  told  Mr.  Wright,  the  guide,  that  I 
thought  it  would  be  best  to  go  up  and  see  what  the 
trouble  was  with  this  animal. 

"  He  went,  and  Coleman  with  him.  They  easily  got 
within  fifty  yards  of  the  goat,  and  found  that  the  entire 
upper  portion  of  its  face  [muzzle]  had  been  torn  oH, 
and  that  the  nostrils  were  exposed  and  bleeding.  They 
naturally  concluded  that  as  soon  as  warm  weather  and 
flies  came,  the  goat  would  die  from  the  effects  of  its  mis- 
fortune. Accordingly  they  crawled  up,  made  several 
photographs  of  the  goat  in  various  positions,  then  killed 
it,  in  order  to  put  it  out  of  its  misery." 

Mr.  Shields  believes  that  the  carrying  away  of  the 
goat's  face  was  done  in  some  manner  by  a  snow-slide,  in 
which  the  goat's  head  was  held  very  firmly  while  either 


THE   MOUNTAIN   GOAT   AS  WE   SAW  HIM   in 

a  sharp-edged  rock  of  large  size,  or  a  log,  passed  over  it, 
grinding  away  skin  and  bone,  and  laying  bare  the  bottom 
of  the  nasal  passage. 

It  seems  that  when  occasion  demands  it,  the  moun- 
tain goat  can  swim  very  well,  and  does  not  hesitate  to 
do  so.  I  have  already  mentioned  the  spring  and  fall 
migrations  of  goats  across  the  valley  of  the  Flathead,  as 
observed  by  Mr.  W.  H.  Wright.  In  making  that  jour- 
ney the  animals  always  had  to  swim  the  Flathead  River. 
Farther  north,  in  Athabasca,  Mr.  Wright  and  Mr. 
Shields  saw  the  trails  of  goats  that  had  crossed  one  of 
the  branches  of  Athabasca  River,  by  swimming.  Beyond 
doubt  it  would  be  possible  to  learn  of  many  instances  of 
river-swimming  by  goats. 

Many  authors  have  written  of  the  "  stupidity  "  of  the 
mountain  goat;  and  on  that  subject  I  may  as  well  record 
here  the  conclusions  of  Mr.  Phillips,  our  guides  and  the 
writer. 

First,  however,  let  me  correct, — for  British  Colum- 
bia at  least, — a  trifling  error  that  is  rather  common  in 
recipes  for  stalking  the  mountain  goat.  Some  writers 
say,  "  first  get  above  him,"  etc.  We  say,  spare  yourself 
that  trouble;  for  it  is  quite  unnecessary.  While  it  is  pos- 
sible to  scale  all  sorts  of  peaks,  and  climb  above  the  goat, 
he  who  does  so  (in  British  Columbia)  will  find  his  hunt- 
ing seriously  handicapped  by  impassable  slopes  of  rock 
that  keep  him  away  from  the  very  points  from  which  he 
would  fain  look  below.  The  best  way  to  hunt  goats  is 
to  stalk  them  on  the  level,  and  shoot  them  on  the  square. 
Mr.  Phillips  says  that  in  all  the  goat-hunting  of  which 


112  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

he  personally  knows,  only  two  goats  have  been  shot  from 
above. 

Personally  I  know  not  how  wary  goats  are  in  coun- 
tries wherein  they  have  been  much  hunted;  for  the  goats 
of  Elk  River  actually  did  not  know  the  significance  of 
the  report  of  fire-arms!  This  is  not  necessarily  stupidity. 
Even  wolves  are  "  tame  "  in  the  far  north,  where  C.  J. 
Jones  fought  them,  and  take  risks  which  any  southern 
wolf  would  regard  as  suicidal.  It  takes  a  little  time  for 
a  wild  species  to  learn  what  it  is  to  be  shot,  and  to  flee 
quickly  and  far  from  the  presence  of  man. 

I  regard  the  primitive  mountain  goat  as  an  animal 
to  whom  fear  is  almost  an  unknown  sensation.  He  is 
serenely  indifferent  to  the  dangers  of  crag-climbing  and 
ledge-walking,  and  to  him  a  five-hundred-foot  precipice 
is  no  more  than  a  sidewalk  to  a  domestic  goat.  So  long 
as  he  has  six  inches  of  rough  points  on  which  to  plant 
his  rubber-like  hoofs,  he  considers  the  route  practicable. 
Why,  then,  he  would  say,  should  he  be  timid  about  a 
few  strange  animals  which  walk  upright,  but  never  dare 
to  meet  him  face  to  face  on  the  walls?  Why  should  he 
jump  and  tremble  because  he  hears  a  loud  noise,  like 
the  bang  of  a  big  rock  falling  a  hijndred  feet  and  ex- 
ploding on  the  slide-rock?  Among  men,  the  peace- 
fully minded  gentleman  naturally  assumes  that  no 
one  will  wantonly  insult  or  attack  him;  therefore 
he  regards  his  fellows  with  calmness  and  serenity,  un- 
armed. The  mountain  goat  has  practically  no  enemies 
save  men  and  eagles.  The  grizzly  bear  knows  that 
Oreamnos  is  not  for  him,   and  for  good  and  sufficient 


THE   MOUNTAIN   GOAT  AS  WE   SAW  HIM   113 

reasons  the  mountain  lion  and  wolf  do  their  hunting  far 
below  him. 

Truly,  the  goats  we  saw  at  home  were  unacquainted 
with  fear.  They  have  no  nerves!  With  dogs  and  men 
you  can  corner  a  goat  on  a  ledge,  and  hold  him  there 
for  an  hour  or  two.  He  will  get  very  angry,  and  grit 
his  teeth,  and  perhaps  kill  several  of  your  dogs,  but  he 
will  not  get  "  rattled,"  and  he  will  neither  fall  ofif  nor 
leap  off  to  certain  death,  as  any  deer  surely  will  do  under 
such  circumstances.  There  are  some  men,  and  also  some 
animals,  who  do  not  become  panic-stricken,  even  when 
they  are  being  killed;  and  of  the  latter  I  think  the 
mountain  goat  is  one. 

We  like  a  "  nervy  "  man,  or  a  nervy  animal, — which 
in  common  parlance  means  an  individual  without  nerves! 

Fifty  years  ago  the  grizzly  bear  was  an  animal  which 
knew  not  fear  of  any  living  thing;  and  then  he  was  Great. 
To-day  the  grizzly  is  a  quitter.  In  nine  cases  out  of 
every  ten,  the  moment  he  sees  a  man,  he  runs  from  him, 
frantically.  A  cotton-tail  rabbit  does  not  turn  tail  more 
quickly  or  more  thoroughly  than  he.  He  is  wiser  than 
he  was;  but  we  don't  respect  him  as  much  as  we  did 
fifty  years  ago. 

The  mountain  goat  seems  to  have  rather  dull  visual 
powers.  We  think  so  because  he  does  not  seem  to  see 
us  as  soon  as  we  discover  him,  or  at  least  does  not  mani- 
fest fear  by  running  from  us.  But  it  may  be  that  he 
does  see  us,  as  quickly  as  a  deer  or  sheep,  or  bear;  but 
having  only  a  fraction  of  their  suspicion  of  man,  he  does 
not  move  off  until  he  feels  really  forced  to  do  so.    Small 


114  CAMP-FIRES  IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

as  its  eyes  are,  a  grizzly  is  very  keen-sighted;  and  I  can 
see  no  reason  for  believing  that  the  goat  is  of  dull  vision 
simply  because  he  is  not  ever  ready  to  run  at  the  slight- 
est alarm. 

More  than  once  we  had  positive  proof  that  the 
mountain  goat  does  not  take  alarm  and  run  from  man 
the  moment  his  presence  is  detected.  On  the  day  I 
killed  my  grizzly  bear,  Charlie  Smith  and  I  rode  to 
Goat  Pass  to  inspect  our  cache  of  provisions  and  other 
things,  half  in  the  hope  of  finding  a  silver-tip  in  the  act 
of  robbing  us.  Besides  ourselves  and  our  two  horses,  the 
dog  was  with  us,  and  between  men,  horses  and  dog  there 
certainly  was  a  variety  of  what  Mr.  Seton  aptly  calls 
"  man  scent." 

When  we  reached  our  cache,  from  which  we  over- 
looked the  head  gorge  of  Goat  Creek,  we  saw  a  billy 
goat  feeding  on  the  fearfully  steep  declivity  which  comes 
down  from  Phillips  Peak. 

"  That  would  be  our  goat,  if  we  wanted  him, 
Charlie." 

"  You  could  surely  knock  him  from  here,"  said 
Charlie.    *'  I  wonder  if  he  ain't  ever  going  to  go!  " 

"  Can  it  be  that  he  don't  see  us?  " 

"  If  he  ain't  blind  he  must  see  us;  and  unless  he's 
got  an  awful  cold  in  his  head,  he  must  smell  us,  too." 

For  fully  five  minutes,  I  should  think,  that  goat  kept 
on  feeding.  At  last,  however,  as  we  were  mounting  to 
ride  on,  he  left  off,  and  started  to  climb  on  up  the  slope, 
— not  exactly  in  alarm,  but  in  a  state  of  what  judges  call 
"  reasonable  doubt." 


THE   MOUNTAIN   GOAT   AS  WE   SAW  HIM   115 

As  might  be  expected  of  an  animal  that  is  born  and 
reared  amid  appalling  dangers  of  many  kinds,  the  moun- 
tain goat  is  a  creature  of  philosophic  mind.  Through 
sheer  necessity,  he  is  much  given  to  original  thinking; 
and  like  all  thoughtful  animals,  his  mental  processes  and 
his  moods  and  tenses  are  highly  interesting.  Watch  him 
closely,  day  after  day,  and  you  will  soon  conclude  that 
the  term  *'  stupid  "  does  not  apply  to  him.  Let  us  see 
whether,  with  our  slight  knowledge  of  him,  we  can  in  a 
small  measure  put  ourselves  in  his  mental  place. 

In  the  first  place,  Oreamnos  has  chosen  the  rugged 
crags  at  and  above  timber-line  as  the  ground  best  calcu- 
lated to  enable  him  to  escape  from  his  wild-animal  ene- 
mies,— the  bears,  pumas  and  wolves.  From  these  his 
rugged  heights  render  him  measurably  secure.  When 
danger  threatens,  and  he  climbs  up  or  down  to  the  shel- 
tering arms  of  the  steepest  precipice  he  can  find,  no  wild 
creature  without  wings  dares  to  follow  him.  Unfortu- 
nately, however,  his  evolution  did  not  take  into  account 
the  necessity  of  adequate  provisions  for  safety  from  the 
modern  rifleman.  And  how  could  it?  There  is  no  such 
thing  as  safety  for  any  wild  creature,  save  under  man's 
own  laws. 

In  times  of  danger  the  elk,  the  moose  and  deer  gen- 
erally stampede  wildly  over  the  face  of  Nature,  without 
much  thought.  Usually  they  are  able  to  run  straight 
away  from  the  hunter.  To  them  the  great  desideratum 
is  speed  for  the  first  mile.  But  not  so  the  goat.  He 
must  find  a  retreat  accessible  to  him,  but  inaccessible  to 
his  pursuer.     He  must  disappear  as  quickly  as  possible, 


ii6  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

but  he  must  also  avoid  getting  into  a  cul-de-sac  from 
which  he  cannot  escape. 

All  these  requirements  make  a  goat  think.  He  must 
look  ahead,  and  plan  out  his  line  of  retreat,  or  come  to 
grief.  A  deer  has  the  quick  dash  and  elan  of  a  cavalry- 
man; but  the  goat  figures  things  out  carefully,  on  scien- 
tific principles,  like  a  general  of  artillery. 

Some  hunters  of  wild  goats  have  called  the  goat  a 
stupid  animal,  because  he  does  not  quickly  comprehend 
the  deadliness  of  man.  But  is  that  proof  that  he  really 
is  stupid?    Let  us  see. 

No  mountain  hunter  will  call  the  mountain  sheep  a 
stupid  animal.  In  regions  wherein  the  sheep  have  been 
shot  at,  and  have  learned  that  a  "  bang  "  means  a  rifle, 
and  a  rifle  means  a  hunter,  the  big-horn  is  a  very  alert 
and  wary  animal.  In  such  regions  the  successful  chase 
of  the  mountain  sheep  demands  the  qualities  that  make 
up  a  first-class  sportsman, — endurance,  judgment,  and 
skill  with  the  rifle.  But  how  is  it  in  countries  wherein 
the  wild  sheep  have  not  been  hunted  by  man,  and  know 
nothing  of  white  hunters  and  fire-arms?  Ask  Mr.  Charles 
Sheldon,  Mr.  Carl  Rungius,  Mr.  James  H.  Kidder  and 
Mr.  Thomas  D.  Leonard  about  the  sheep  which  they 
found  so  abundant  in  the  Kenai  Peninsula,  in  the  Yukon 
Territory  and  on  the  Stickine  River.  They  will  tell  you 
that  the  sheep  which  they  hunted  did  not  know  the 
meaning  of  a  rifle-shot;  that  they  only  partially  realized 
the  deadliness  of  man;  that  when  a  flock  was  fired  at, 
the  sheep  threw  up  their  heads,  and  gazed  and  hesi- 
tated, until  often  five  shots  could  be  fired  at  a  bunch 


THE   MOUNTAIN   GOAT   AS  WE   SAW  HIM   117 

before  it  finally  realized  the  danger,  and  ran  out  of 
range. 

That  was  not  due  to  dulness  of  mind,  or  stupidity. 
It  was  due  to  a  lack  of  information^ — ignorance  of  exist- 
ing facts. 

Take  the  record  of  our  four  days  on  Goat  Pass, 
where  we  camped  literally  on  the  goat's  highway  be- 
tween two  groups  of  mountains.  The  first  day  we  saw 
forty-seven  goats,  all  of  which  saw  us;  and  three  of  them 
ran  through  our  camp.  On  the  third  day  we  saw  forty- 
two  goats,  and  were  seen  by  all  of  them.  We  did  not 
fire  a  shot  on  those  mountains  until  the  third  day,  when 
we  killed  two  goats.  On  the  fourth  day  it  was  remarked 
with  surprise  that  all  the  goats  had  '*  left  the  country!  " 
This  was  literally  true.  Word  had  been  passed  around 
among  the  ten  or  twelve  flocks  originally  living  there, 
that  there  was  danger  afoot;  and  as  if  by  magic,  one 
hundred  and  ten  of  the  one  hundred  and  fifteen  goats 
we  had  seen  simply  vanished!  The  only  bunch  that  re- 
mained was  a  flock  of  five  nannies  and  kids  which  were 
isolated  on  a  rugged  mountain  that  ran  ofif  due  west- 
ward from  the  main  chain  of  peaks  on  which  we  were. 
Evidently  they  did  not  get  the  word  which  alarmed  all 
the  rest.  We  had  fired  our  rifles  in  one  spot  only,  which 
was  at  the  extreme  northern  end  of  that  goat-infested 
area.  Our  guides  remarked,  "  We've  got  to  get  out  of 
here,  and  look  for  goats  somewhere  else,  if  we  want  to 
find  any  more." 

Mr.  F.  B.  Wellman,  of  Banff,  a  very  observing  guide, 
who  has  seen  much  of  goat  and  sheep  hunting,  does  not 


ii8   CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

regard  the  sheep  as  any  more  wary  and  keen-sighted  than 
the  goat.  He  has  seen  large  herds  of  goats  post  sentinels 
who  watched  for  danger  so  keenly  and  intelligently  that 
the  approach  of  a  hunter  within  shooting-distance  was 
quite  impossible.  The  sentries  watch  in  every  direction. 
Mr.  Wellman  advanced  the  theory  that  the  goat  seems 
easier  to  stalk  than  the  sheep  because  the  coat  of  the  for- 
mer is  so  conspicuous  that  the  hunter  can  see  it  long 
before  it  sees  him;  and  it  is  also  easy  to  keep  it  in  view 
while  stalking.  On  the  other  hand,  all  the  colors  of  the 
big-horn  match  so  well  with  his  surroundings  that  he  is 
difficult  to  locate,  and  thereby  often  is  enabled  to  see  the 
hunter  before  the  hunter  sees  him!  I  think  this  conclu- 
sion is  very  reasonable,  and  entirely  correct. 

In  my  opinion,  no  animal  which  can  live  all  the  year 
round,  and  prosper,  above  timber-line  in  the  British  Co- 
lumbian Rockies,  can  rightly  be  called  stupid.  If  the 
mountain  goat  were  not  a  good  observer,  a  good  rea- 
soner,  and  at  all  times  cool  and  level-headed,  he  would 
continually  be  coming  to  grief.  He  would  be  drowned 
by  freshets,  or  carried  down  by  snow-combs  and  ava- 
lanches, or  blown  off  precipices,  or  caught  napping  by 
grizzly  bears.  But  none  of  those  unpleasant  things  hap- 
pen unto  him. 

Excepting  the  musk-ox,  the  mountain  goat  is  the 
only  North  American  hoofed  animal  which  does  not 
lose  its  head  when  brought  to  bay  by  dogs  or  men.  If 
you  round  up  a  deer,  elk,  moose  or  caribou  on  a  narrow 
ledge,  or  on  the  edge  of  a  precipice,  it  will  cheerfully 
leap  off  into  eternity  in  order  to  escape  the  terrors  of  man 


THE   MOUNTAIN   GOAT   AS  WE   SAW  HIM   119 

and  dog.  Mr.  Wellman  says  that  sometimes  a  wounded 
sheep  on  the  edge  of  a  cliff  will  throw  itself  over,  but 
that  no  goat  will  do  this.  The  latter  believes  that  one 
goat  on  a  ledge  is  worth  two  in  mid-air.  With  mar- 
vellous coolness  he  stands  fast,  and  waits  for  something 
favorable  to  turn  up.  If  he  can  charge  the  dogs  that 
annoy  him,  and  gore  them  to  death,  or  toss  them  off  into 
space,  he  will  gladly  do  so;  but  if  he  cannot,  he  "  stands 
pat "  on  his  ledge,  grits  his  teeth  and  stamps  with  vexa- 
tion, and  says,  "  Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about 
it?  "  Among  white  hunters,  it  is  not  considered  either 
fair  or  sportsman-like  to  shoot  a  goat  or  sheep  that  has 
been  "  cornered  "  on  a  ledge,  unless  it  is  wounded. 

The  action  of  a  female  goat  photographed  in  August, 
1905,  on  Ptarmigan  Mountain,  B.  C,  by  Professor 
Henry  F.  Osborn,  reveals  much  of  goat  character,  bear- 
ing especially  upon  courage  and  affection.  On  the  edge 
of  a  ragged  precipice,  which  with  great  care  was  prac- 
ticable for  goats,  the  old  nanny  and  her  four-months-old 
kid  were  overtaken,  and  brought  to  bay.  The  way  down 
to  safety  was  so  steep  and  dangerous  that  it  could  be 
taken  only  with  caution  and  judgment;  but  if  the  mother 
had  disregarded  her  offspring,  she  could  instantly  have 
found  safety  for  herself  by  going  down  where  no  dog 
could  follow  her. 

With  the  dog  so  close  at  hand,  the  mother  decided 
that  she  could  not  lead  the  way  down,  for  fear  her  off- 
spring would  be  seized  before  it  left  the  summit.  She 
therefore  faced  the  dog,  with  the  kid  behind  her,  and 
several  times  attempted  to  charge  her  tormentor.     But 


I20  CAMP-FIRES  IN   THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

the  dog  was  alert,  and  easily  kept  out  of  the  way.  As 
long  as  the  dog  bayed  the  pair,  the  mother  goat  deter- 
minedly but  patiently  stood  her  ground.  This  lasted  for 
some  minutes.  Finally  Professor  Osborn  called  ofif  the 
dog,  whereupon  the  mother-goat  lost  no  time  in  climb- 
ing down  the  precipice,  with  her  offspring  following 
close  behind.* 

Excepting  the  musk-ox  and  female  grizzly  bear, 
what  other  American  animal  would  have  taken  such 
risks  for  its  young,  or  would  have  acted  so  bravely  and 
so  sensibly? 

Of  course  it  is  to  be  expected  that  any  wild  animal 
will  to  the  best  of  its  ability  defend  its  young  against 
the  attacks  of  other  animals.  In  the  spring  of  1905,  Mr. 
Charles  L.  Smith  saw  a  female  goat  successfully  defend 
her  kid  from  a  golden  eagle  which  sought  to  seize  it. 
The  goat  stood  close  beside  her  young,  and  whenever  the 
eagle  swooped,  and  sought  to  seize  the  kid,  the  mother 
reared  on  her  hindlegs,  and  with  her  horns  made  thrust 
after  thrust  at  the  eagle.  In  a  short  time  the  eagle  aban- 
doned its  attempt. 

The  mountain  goat  is  not  only  sublimely  courageous 
in  climbing,  and  in  traversing  precipices,  but  as  occasion 
requires,  it  is  also  a  bold  and  effective  fighter.  Those 
who  know  the  limit  of  its  temper  can  judge  of  the  risks 
of  life  and  limb  which  Mr.  Phillips  ran  when  he  faced 

*  A  full  account  of  this  remarkable  experience,  written  by  Professor 
Osborn,  and  fully  illustrated,  will  be  found  in  the  Tenth  Annual  Report  of 
the  New  York  Zoological  Society.  The  Ninth  Annual  Report,  of  the  same 
series,  contains  an  admirable  illustrated  paper  on  "  The  Mountain  Goat,"  by 
Mr.  Madison  Grant. 


THE   MOUNTAIN   GOAT   AS  WE   SAW  HIM   121 

an  angry  "  billy  "  on  a  two-foot  ledge,  at  a  distance  of 
six  feet  or  less,  in  taking  a  series  of  photographs  of  the 
animal.  One  determined  charge,  and  one  fierce  upward 
thrust  of  those  sharp  horns,  would  have  thrown  the  dar- 
ing photographer  of¥  the  ledge  to  instant  death. 

The  fighting  qualities  of  this  remarkable  animal  are 
best  illustrated  by  the  records  of  actual  occurrences. 
For  a  number  of  years  Mr.  Arthur  B.  Fenwick  has  main- 
tained a  large  ranch  about  fourteen  miles  north  of  Fort 
Steele,  British  Columbia.  Being  an  ardent  sportsman 
and  nature-lover  he  has  seen  much  of  the  mountain 
goats,  sheep,  bears  and  other  animals  that  literally  sur- 
round him.  In  response  to  an  inquiry,  Mr.  Fenwick 
wrote  me  as  follows : 

"  As  to  the  fighting  capacity  of  a  full-grown  billy 
goat,  he  will,  with  a  little  luck,  kill  almost  anything. 
The  story  I  told  Mr.  Van  Nostrand  related  to  an  occur- 
rence on  Joseph's  Prairie,  where  Cranbrook  now  stands. 
A  full-grown  billy  goat  happened  to  stray  out  there,  and 
old  Chief  Isadore,  who  was  camped  there,  saw  it.  He 
and  two  other  Indians  thought  that  with  horses,  dogs 
and  ropes  they  could  catch  the  animal,  alive.  I  think 
fifteen  dogs  left  the  camp  for  the  goat.  A  little  later  a 
squaw  saw  that  they  were  having  a  bad  mix-up,  and  ran 
out  to  the  Indians  with  a  rifle.  One  of  them  shot  the 
goat.  All  but  two  of  the  dogs  were  killed  on  the  spot, 
or  died  very  shortly.  It  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty 
that  the  Indians  saved  their  horses  from  getting  punct- 
ured by  those  terrible  little  horns. 

"  I  will  tell  you  another  fact,  which  without  the  ex- 


122  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

planation  you  would  not  believe.  A  goat  will  sometimes 
kill  a  full-grown  silver-tip  bear!  I  once  found  a  big 
goat,  dead,  which  evidently  had  been  killed  by  a  silver- 
tip,  as  there  were  lots  of  tracks  all  around,  and  the  goat's 
back  was  broken.  I  thought  it  queer  that  the  bear  had 
not  taken  the  goat  away  and  buried  it,  as  usual,  so  I 
looked  around.  I  found  a  large  silver-tip  bear,  dead, 
and  all  bloated  up ;  and  when  I  examined  him  I  found 
that  the  goat  had  punched  him  twice,  just  back  of  the 
heart.  He  had  been  able  to  kill  the  goat,  and  had  then 
gone  ofif  and  died." 

In  the  spring  of  1905,  when  Messrs.  Chapman  and 
White,  of  Fort  Steele,  caught  for  us  the  five  goat  kids 
received  by  me  at  Fort  Steele  in  October,  two  of  their 
best  dogs  were  killed  by  goats.  Mr.  B.  T.  Van  Nostrand, 
of  Brooklyn,  described  the  occurrence,  as  follows: 

"  They  started  after  the  goats  with  ten  dogs.  The 
larger  dogs  ran  up  to  the  old  goats,  and  tried  to  seize 
them  by  their  heads.  Before  the  dogs  could  be  called 
off,  the  first  two  were  instantly  gored,  and  hurled  over 
a  precipice.  White  said  the  goats  stood  their  ground, 
and  tossed  the  dogs  so  quickly  they  could  hardly  realize 
what  had  happened  until  they  saw  the  dogs  in  the  air, 
bleeding  from  the  wounds  made  by  the  horns  of  the 
goats.  When  White  and  Chapman  appeared,  the  goats 
moved  off.  The  remaining  dogs  were  able  to  separate 
the  kids  from  the  rest  of  the  band,  and  finally  they 
caught  five." 

It  seems  that  sometimes  goats  kill  each  other. 

"  Four  years  ago,"  continued  Mr.  Van  Nostrand,  "  I 


THE   MOUNTAIN   GOAT   AS  WE   SAW  HIM   123 

was  shooting  in  about  the  same  locality  as  that  in  which 
your  goats  were  caught,  and  there  I  witnessed  the  finish 
of  a  fight  between  two  large  billies.  I  had  shot  at  a 
mountain  sheep  ram  on  the  sky-line,  and  to  find  out  the 
effect  of  my  shot  I  climbed  to  the  summit.  At  the  top 
I  sat  down  to  rest,  and  look  for  the  ram,  and  enjoy  the 
grandeur  of  the  view.  As  I  sat  there  motionless,  two 
goats  came  around  a  corner  of  rock  only  about  fifty  yards 
away  from  me.  They  were  walking  rather  fast,  and 
whenever  the  goat  in  the  rear  caught  up  with  the  one 
before  him,  he  gave  it  a  blow  with  his  head.  It  did  not 
seem  to  be  a  vigorous  butt,  and  at  first  I  thought  it  was 
play.  They  were  making  a  low,  peculiar  sound,  such 
as  I  cannot  describe  in  words. 

"  In  a  very  short  time,  one  of  the  goats  lay  down 
behind  a  large  rock,  so  that  I  could  see  only  its  head. 
The  other  goat  stood,  and  looked  at  the  one  lying  down. 
Just  then  they  saw  me,  and  this  seemed  to  stop  the  fight, 
for  the  standing  goat  began  to  move  away.  I  fired  and 
killed  him;  but  to  my  surprise  the  other  goat  lay  still. 
I  could  not  hit  him  from  where  I  was  without  spoiling 
his  head,  so  I  climbed  around  to  get  a  better  shot. 
Finally  I  got  quite  close,  and  had  a  good  general  view 
of  him.  Then  he  stood  up,  took  one  or  two  steps,  and 
stood  still.  I  then  saw  that  he  was  bleeding  around  his 
neck,  that  one  flank  was  badly  torn,  and  that  some  of 
his  intestines  were  hanging  out  until  they  almost  touched 
the  ground!  He  was  so  far  gone  he  could  scarcely  stand, 
and  to  end  his  troubles  quickly,  I  shot  him. 

"  That  was  the  only  fight  to  the  death  that  I  ever 


124  CAMP-FIRES  IN   THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

saw  among  wild  animals,  and  it  was  done  quite  differ- 
ently from  what  I  expected.  There  was  no  pawing  of 
the  ground,  and  no  frenzied  charging.  One  goat  quietly 
walked  up  to  the  other,  and  gave  him  a  fierce  thrust. 
The  victorious  goat  was  not  even  scratched.  I  presume 
his  first  thrust  was  fatal  to  the  victim." 

But  there  are  times  when  even  the  icy-nerved  goat 
becomes  thoroughly  frightened.  In  questioning  Mr. 
Phillips  on  this  point  he  related  the  following  incident: 

"  The  only  time  I  ever  saw  a  goat  really  frightened, 
and  show  fear,  was  when  Charlie  Smith  and  I  were 
hunting  on  the  head  of  Wilson  Creek.  We  had  sighted 
a  grizzly  bear,  and  were  following  him  up  the  side  of  a 
mountain  and  over  the  summit.  It  took  us  two  hours  to 
climb  a  distance  that  he  covered  in  one.  Near  the  sum- 
mit the  bear's  trail  led  us  through  a  little  notch,  and  past 
the  base  of  a  pinnacle  of  bare  rock,  about  two  hundred 
feet  high,  that  ran  up  very  much  like  a  cathedral  spire. 

"  Now  it  happened  that  as  the  bear  passed  through 
the  little  notch  he  frightened  an  old,  long-bearded  billy 
goat,  who  immediately  started  up  the  pinnacle  as  hard 
as  he  could  go,  and  climbed  clear  to  its  summit.  And 
there  the  old  fellow  stood,  or  rather  hung,  in  a  most 
ridiculous  attitude.  His  front  feet  were  hooked  over  the 
eastern  edge  of  the  point,  like  a  man  looking  over  the 
peak  of  a  steep  house-roof,  and  holding  on  by  his  hands. 
His  body  and  hindlegs  were  well  down  on  the  other 
side  of  the  pinnacle,  and  completely  overhung  a  fright- 
ful precipice. 

"  He  was  so  interested  in  the  bear  that  he  paid  no 


THE   MOUNTAIN   GOAT  AS  WE   SAW  HIM   125 

attention  to  us.  We  talked  to  him,  and  tried  to  attract 
his  attention,  but  he  would  not  even  look  at  us.  He  had 
the  most  beautiful  set  of  whiskers  that  I  ever  saw  on  a 
goat,  and  as  the  wind  blew  through  them  they  waved  in 
the  breeze.  Evidently,  the  old  fellow  could  see  the 
bear, — below  him,  and  in  front.  He  moved  his  head  in 
various  directions,  peering  about,  twisting  his  head  and 
squinting  like  a  near-sighted  man  at  a  variety  show. 
Four  other  goats  had  taken  to  the  high  rocks  on  account 
of  that  same  bear." 

Mr.  Phillips  has  seen  goats  climb,  without  being 
frightened,  to  the  very  summits  of  lofty  peaks,  and  far 
above  their  food  supply,  apparently  for  amusement  only. 
He  has  also  seen  flocks  of  goats  lie  on  solitary  patches  of 
snow  in  preference  to  bare  earth  and  rocks. 

Among  hunters  and  guides  who  live  in  the  mountain 
goat's  country,  it  is  a  common  belief  that  goats  (like 
men)  sometimes  lose  their  lives  through  going  upon  pre- 
cipitous ledges  from  which  they  cannot  escape.  It  is 
difficult  to  understand  how  a  goat  can  reach  a  point  on 
the  face  of  a  cliff  without  carefully  climbing  to  it,  either 
up  or  down,  or  how  it  can  become  impossible  for  him 
to  retrace  his  steps.  That  such  things  are  possible,  how- 
ever, is  proven  by  a  tragedy  actually  witnessed  by  Mr. 
James  Brewster,  of  Banff. 

Mr.  Brewster  relates  that  quite  recently,  while  out 
with  a  hunting-party  in  the  mountains  north-west  of 
Banff,  they  climbed  to  the  top  of  a  rugged  mountain, 
and  chased  a  band  of  goats  around  its  summit.  The 
goats  went  down  over  the  edge  of  a  rock  wall  which 


126  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE    CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

overhung  so  much  that  the  animals  could  not  be  seen 
from  above.  Later  on,  when  they  descended  to  their 
camp  in  the  valley,  and  looked  up  at  the  mountain  wall, 
they  saw  their  lost  goats,  five  in  number,  perched  far 
aloft,  on  a  narrow  ledge.  When  night  descended,  the 
goats  were  still  there. 

The  next  morning,  the  hunters  were  surprised  at 
finding  that  during  the  night  the  animals  had  not  moved; 
nor  did  they  move  during  that  entire  day.  Then  Mr. 
Brewster  and  his  companions  became  convinced  that  the 
goats  had  trapped  themselves,  and  were  unable  either  to 
go  on  or  retreat.  The  band  consisted  of  two  adult  goats 
and  three  young  ones.  Naturally  it  was  the  older  ani- 
mals that  led  the  way  into  the  danger,  and  it  was  the 
belief  of  the  party  that  the  adult  goats  could  not  retreat 
the  way  they  came  because  the  young  ones  blocked  the 
way,  and  were  unable  to  go  back.  It  was  thought  that 
the  ledge  was  so  narrow  the  goats  could  not  turn  upon 
it,  and  the  kids  were  unable  to  back  out.  We  know  that 
a  young  goat  can  easily  turn  on  a  twelve-inch  ledge,  pro- 
vided the  wall  does  not  overhang;  but  an  overhanging 
wall  can  make  turning  impossible. 

Mr.  Brewster  and  his  party  became  so  Interested  in 
the  fate  of  the  trapped  goats  that  they  remained  in  that 
camp  long  enough  to  witness  the  end  of  the  tragedy. 
One  by  one,  those  poor  goats  fell  from  their  ledge,  and 
were  dashed  to  death  on  the  slide-rock,  hundreds  of  feet 
below.  The  hunters  saw  one  of  them  fall;  but  the  most 
of  them  fell  at  night.  The  last  one  fell  on  the  tenth  day 
after  they  took  refuge  on  the  fatal  shelf. 


CHAPTER    IX 

TIMBER-LINE  AND  SUMMIT 

One-Eyed  Men  in  the  Mountains — A  Mountain  Savant — A  Climb  in 
False  Notch — Foot  and  Nerve  Exhaustion — A  Daring  Goat — Ex- 
periments— The  Component  Parts  of  Mountain-Sides — Tempera- 
ture Record  of  a  Climber — A  Great  Basin  and  a  Bull  Elk — A  Tree 
Scarred  by  a  Mountain  Ram. 

"Here  in  this  workshop  of  the  Sun, 

Where  Nature  hews,  and  chips  recoil. 
Note  well  the  work  designed,  or  done  ; 
Behold  the  Mountains  at  their  toil!" 

— The  Sun's  Workshop. 

The  world  is  full  of  one-eyed  travellers.  One  of  the 
strange  things  about  such  mountains  as  those  of  British 
Columbia  is  the  wide  variation  between  the  impressions 
which  they  produce  upon  different  people.  I  know  a 
miner  and  prospector  to  whom  the  finest  mountain-range 
is  merely  a  place  in  which  to  look  for  signs  of  ore. 
There  are  sportsmen  who  see  nothing  in  mountains  save 
what  appears  over  the  sights  of  their  rifles.  There  are 
photographers  who  see  nature  only  as  it  is  revealed  in 
their  "  finder,"  "  stopped  down  to  aperture  No.  32,  one- 
twenty-fifth  of  a  second  exposure." 

Before  me  at  this  moment  there  lies  a  book  about 
mountains;  but  it  is  only  a  book  of  heights  and  depths, 

scaled  or  to  be  scaled.    Its  author  was  blind  to  the  glories 

1Z7 


128   CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

of  mountain  vegetation,  and  to  the  ever-interesting  mam- 
mal and  bird  fauna  of  the  steeps.  The  works  and  ways 
of  Nature  at  timber-line  held  absolutely  nothing  of  spe- 
cial interest  to  him,  save  as  they  furnished  things  to 
climb  over.  He  was  interested  in  forests  only  as  they 
burned,  and  their  smoke  obscured  the  view  of  summits 
to  be  climbed.  In  a  volume  of  more  than  four  hundred 
pages  the  author  devotes  half  a  page  to  the  flora  of  a 
magnificent  domain  of  mountains,  and  three  pages  to 
their  animal  life!    Really,  is  it  not  strange? 

Often  when  in  the  tropics  I  lamented  my  lack  of 
botanical  knowledge,  but  not  half  so  much  as  I  deplored 
it  in  the  Columbian  Rockies.  To  pass  over  twice  in  one 
day  the  uppermost  limits  of  perhaps  fifty  species  of 
plants  and  trees,  and  know  of  them  so  very  little,  was  at 
times  really  depressing.  Each  of  the  few  species  which 
I  did  recognize  was  as  welcome  as  the  face  of  a  friend 
at  a  crowded  reception. 

To  me,  Charlie  Smith  was  truly  a  guide,  philosophei 
and  friend,  and  at  all  times  a  source  of  intellectual  com- 
fort. He  loves  the  mountains  so  well  that  no  money 
consideration  can  tempt  him  to  leave  them.  He  loves 
them  in  storm  or  in  calm,  amid  the  terrors  of  winter  as 
well  as  the  delights  of  spring,  summer  and  fall.  Once 
while  resting  on  a  lofty  summit,  with  a  magnificent  pano- 
rama spread  out  at  our  feet,  and  stretching  away  to  the 
Continental  Divide,  he  said  to  me: 

"  I  have  had  chances  to  go  into  business,  and  in  some 
of  them  I  am  sure  I  could  have  made  money.  Possibly 
I  could  have  become  moderately  rich.    But  what  would 


TIMBER-LINE    AND   SUMMIT  129 

all  the  money  of  a  millionaire  be  to  me  if  it  took  me 
away  from  the  mountains  that  I  love?  No  amount  of 
money  in  a  business  office  could  make  up  to  me  what  I 
would  lose  in  giving  up  this  country.  No  rich  man 
can  get  out  of  his  money  more  satisfaction  in  life  than 
I  find  in  these  mountains;  and  here  I  mean  to  stay  until 
I  die." 

Charlie  is  a  strange,  and  even  remarkable,  combina- 
tion. He  loves  steep  mountains  like  another  Whymper, 
and  is  a  very  bold  and  level-headed  climber.  He  loves 
all  animal  life,  and  is  not  only  a  keen  observer,  but  his 
accuracy  in  observing  is  grateful  and  comforting.  He 
loves  tree-life  and  plant-life  with  the  taste  of  a  born 
botanist.  He  is  a  fine  hunter  and  trapper,  brave,  but 
sensibly  cautious  on  the  trail,  and  completely  free  from 
the  boastful  and  intolerant  vein  which  spoils  many  a 
good  woodsman.  Like  most  of  the  mountain  men  whom 
I  have  known  intimately,  he  is  clean-minded  and  high- 
minded,  and  as  a  narrator  and  describer  I  have  never 
among  frontiersmen  known  his  equal.  When  he  tells  a 
story,  he  makes  you  see  it  as  in  a  moving  picture;  and 
he  writes  with  wonderful  ease. 

I  urged  Charlie  to  write  out  the  fascinating  stories 
of  adventure  and  chapters  of  wild-animal  lore  that  he 
gradually  unfolded  to  me,  and  offer  them  to  the  maga- 
zines which  are  always  on  the  lookout  to  discover  new 
and  fresh  springs  of  literary  refreshment.  At  first  he 
felt  that  he  "could  not  write  well  enough";  but  as  a 
matter  of  conscience  and  duty,  both  to  him  and  the  pub- 
lic, I  urged  him  until  he  took  courage,  and  decided  to  try. 


I  {o  CAMP-KIRI'IS    IN     llllv    CANADIAN    KOC  KlllS 

'Vhc  fort'i^oing  ^' apprt'i'iation  "  is  in  no  sense  a  di- 
gression, lor  C'harlie  Smith  was  lai  more  interesting 
ami  notewoithy  tluin  any  ol  tlie  mountains  up  whieh  lie 
leil  me. 

Every  sp(U  tsm. in  knows  (l\al  the  oiiasions  where  h)ur 
men  i  an  piolit.ihlv  luuit  toiuthei  aie  lew  anil  lar  he- 
tween.  Mr.  Thillips  usually  went  out  with  Maek  Nor- 
boe.  |ohn  Niuhoe  maiie  \.iiu>us  speeial  scoutmg  trips 
lor  the  general  wellare,  and  Charlie  Smith  and  I  worked 
together.  After  the  great  day  with  goats,  on  Thillips 
I'eak,  we  devoteii  (Uir  energies  to  liunting  lor  gii//ly 
bears;  and  ui  ijuest  ol  tiiem  we  went  into  all  sorts  of 
plaees.  Inuueiliatelv  alter  e.unpini:;  in  Avalanehe  Val- 
ley, our  liist  laii-  was  to  hunt  ilow  n  the  valley,  thiough 
the  ribbt)n  ol  green  tunhii,  si\  miles  or  so  straight  aw^ay 
to  the  base  ol  Koth  Mount. lin;  .uu!  .dthough  we  louiul 
.d>out  a  do/en  or  lilteen  rubbing-trees,  where  bears  had 
stooil  up  to  seiatih  their  baeks,  we  saw  no  bears. 

Continuously  we  watehed  the  open  grounii  of  the 
'' slules  "  lor  be. lis  feeding;  ami  as  often  as  we  eould 
manage  it,  wi-  (limbed  to  some  new  sununit,  in  onler  to 
view  a  new  b.isin,  new  loek  walls,  more  slides,  and  more 
lu'w  (.■ountiy  l.ii  Iu'mmuI.  In  sueh  .i  region  as  that  is,  to 
hunt  is  to  iluub;  .uul  to  iluub  is  usually  to  go  above 
timber  line  beh>re  you  stop. 

I  was  tu-iiui'iuly  suipiiseii  by  tlie  ditlereiices  between 
mountain  sides  and  summits  that  one  wouKi  naturally 
e\peet  to  linil  alike.  Take  I'alse  Noteh,  for  instanee, 
about  two  nules  above  Camp  Hornaday,  whieh  eame 
about  through  mv  initiative. 


Timber-Line   in   Winter 

Mr.    Phillips  and  Guide  Smith  un  snow-shoes,  carrying  their  entire  outfit. 


TIMBER-LINE    AND   SUMMIT  131 

One  afternoon  as  Charlie  and  I  were  returning  from 
several  hours  of  climbing  to  look  at  the  goat  remains  on 
Phillips  Peak,  the  trail  led  across  some  slide-rock  which 
gave  us  an  open  view  upward  toward  the  west.  In  an 
evil  moment,  I  saw  to  the  westward  a  ridge  that  was 
heavily  timbered  quite  to  its  summit;  and  seeing  no  land 
higher  up,  I  rashly  concluded  it  was  a  low  pass.  So 
I  said, 

''  Charlie,  it  doesn't  look  far  up  to  the  top  of  that 
divide.  Suppose  we  climb  up,  and  take  a  look  over  the 
other  side,  toward  Bull  River." 

Charlie  hesitated  two  or  three  seconds,  looked  at  the 
sun,  then  quietly  answered, 

"  All  right.  .  .  .  We'll  strike  up  on  the  right  of  this 
slide,  and  have  easy  going." 

We  struck  up,  and  the  climb  through  the  green  tim- 
ber was  all  right.  But  when  we  reached  what  I  had 
thought  was  the  summit  of  the  divide,  behold!  we  stood 
at  the  mouth  of  a  big,  bare  basin  between  the  two  peaks, 
beyond  which  there  rose  a  roof  of  the  steepest  and  most 
difficult  slide-rock  that  I  found  on  that  trip.  We  were  at 
timber-line,  and  exactly  half-way  up  to  the  real  summit! 
I  felt  as  if  that  notch  had  deliberately  deceived  me. 

After  a  brief  rest,  we  crossed  the  bottom  of  the  basin, 
chose  the  best  line  of  ascent,  and  started  up.  Never 
shall  I  forget  that  climb.  The  mountain  was  frightfully 
steep,  and  from  basin-bottom  to  summit,  the  slope  was 
covered  with  slide-rock  of  the  best  possible  size  to  roll 
under  a  climber's  foot,  and  throw  him  down. 

"  Be  very  careful  of  your  footing  here,"  said  Charlie, 


132  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

very  quietly.  "  Don't  make  a  misstep.  A  roll  down  here 
might  be  pretty  serious." 

There  was  no  doubt  about  it.  A  genuine  fall  on  that 
treacherous  stuff,  either  backward  or  sidewise,  might 
easily  send  a  man  plunging  downward  so  swiftly  that 
there  would  be  no  stopping  short  of  the  bottom.  The 
slide-rock  was  mostly  in  angular  chunks  about  the  size 
of  furnace  coal,  and  almost  as  hard  as  flint.  It  reminded 
me  of  the  inch-and-a-half  broken  trap-rock  that  we  use 
in  the  Zoological  Park  in  surfacing  our  roads.  Imagine 
the  steepest  house-roof  you  ever  saw  bestrewn  with  that 
stuff,  ready  to  roll  at  the  touch  of  a  foot,  and  you  will 
know  what  that  slope  was  like  as  a  place  to  climb. 

In  taking  a  step  upward,  the  foot  had  to  win  a  firm 
resting-place  on  the  loose  rock  before  the  body's  weight 
was  thrown  upon  it;  for  each  step  had  to  be  a  success. 
The  strain  on  the  ankles  was  really  very  severe, — and  on 
the  mind  it  was  equally  so.  In  a  party  like  ours,  no  one 
wants  to  be  a  spoil-sport,  and  get  hurt,  tie  up  the  whole 
hunt,  and  possibly  be  carried  out  in  a  package  strapped 
to  a  horse's  back.    Accidents  are  forbidden  luxuries! 

I  suppose  that  slope  was  about  six  hundred  feet  long. 
Charlie  kindly  offered  to  carry  my  rifle  for  me,  and  even 
insisted  upon  it;  but  up  to  that  time  I  had  carried  my 
rifle  every  step  of  my  hunting  ways,  and  I  elected  to  stay 
with  it,  up  or  down. 

As  we  neared  the  summit,  we  saw  that  we  were  ap- 
proaching a  "  knife-edge."  It  was  not  a  level  knife- 
edge,  either,  but  sloped  sharply,  and  at  one  place  broke 
down  very  abruptly  for  several  feet.     It  was  then  clear 


TIMBER-LINE    AND   SUMMIT  133 

that  the  narrow  sky-line  was  the  edge  of  a  precipice, 
that  there  was  no  such  thing  as  hunting  beyond,  and  it 
looked  as  if  no  one  could  walk  on  the  knife-edge  for 
more  than  a  hundred  yards  or  so. 

Feeling  that  I  had  been  grossly  deceived  by  that 
notch,  I  decided  to  expend  no  further  energy  upon  it, 
unless  something  more  than  the  summit  were  to  be 
gained  by  it.  Twenty-five  years  ago  I  would  have  fol- 
lowed Charlie  to  the  last  gasp;  but  as  it  was,  I  shame- 
lessly allowed  him  to  climb  on  up  to  the  top,  alone.  The 
mental  and  physical  exertion  of  placing  my  feet  about 
six  hundred  times  in  that  loose  stuff,  each  time  so  care- 
fully that  my  foot  would  hold  without  the  possibility  of 
a  slide  or  a  roll,  had  so  completely  exhausted  both  my 
nerves  and  my  ankles  that  I  had  neither  patience  nor 
strength  for  another  useless  fifty  feet.  I  learned  that  a 
man  who  is  reasonably  fresh  can  do  climbing  that  is 
almost  impossible  to  him  when  his  feet  and  his  nerves 
are  equally  exhausted.  It  is  very  trying  to  climb  for  an 
hour  with  a  feeling  that  one  false  step,  one  turned  ankle 
or  one  treacherous  rock  will  lead  swiftly  to  a  battered 
body  and  broken  bones. 

Charlie  climbed  on  up  with  the  sang-froid  of  a  moun- 
tain goat,  and  soon  stood  on  the  sky-line,  looking  over. 

"  How  wide  is  it  up  there?  " 

"  Well,  in  some  places  it's  three  feet;  but  in  one  place 
it's  nearly  twenty." 

"  Anything  to  do  on  the  other  side?  " 

"No;  I  guess  not.  No  good  ground,  no  game  in 
sight.    There's  no  use  in  your  coming  up  here." 


134  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

Climbing  down  seemed  quite  as  dangerous  as  climb- 
ing up.  In  descending  dangerous  slopes  over  loose  rock, 
I  always  found  myself  looking  forward  to  a  point  of 
altitude  low  enough  that  a  fall  from  it  would  not  quite 
kill  a  man;  then  to  the  point  that  meant  not  more  than 
two  broken  limbs;  then  to  the  one-limb  point;  to  bat- 
tered knees  only,  and  so  on  to  the  bottom.  With  shoe- 
soles  less  wooden  in  their  stififness,  and  with  better  nails 
in  the  bottom,  I  would  have  felt  very  differently  in  those 
mountains. 

Perhaps  I  should  note  here  a  few  facts  regarding  the 
best  clothing  for  a  mountain-climber.  Naturally,  a  ten- 
derfoot needs  to  have  all  conditions  in  his  favor,  but  it 
is  likely  that  few  succeed  in  securing  a  perfect  outfit. 
The  shoes  should  be  high,  to  protect  and  support  the 
ankles,  but  the  soles  should  not  be  too  thick,  or  inflex- 
ible. The  soles  should  yield  somewhat  to  the  rocks;  and 
they  must  be  well  studded  with  sharp-pointed  hobnails, 
screwed  into  the  leather.  In  rough  work  and  plenty  of 
it,  two  pairs  of  good  shoes  will  last  but  little  more  than 
a  month. 

The  trousers  should  be  knickerbockers  of  gray  mack- 
inaw  (wool),  and  the  openings  at  the  knee  should  be 
six  inches  long,  with  buttons,  in  order  that  in  severe 
climbing  they  can  be  opened  wide.  With  these,  woollen 
stockings  are  necessary.  Suspenders  are  absolutely  neces- 
sary^ for  the  belt  must  be  worn  loose.  The  outer  shirt, 
of  gray  flannel,  should  be  of  medium  weight.  The  neck 
demands  a  large  silk  handkerchief,  of  some  dark,  neu- 
tral color. 


TIMBER-LINE    AND   SUMMIT  135 

As  we  climbed  down,  a  solitary  billy  goat  came  over 
the  peak  in  front  of  us,  beyond  the  basin,  and  treated  us 
to  a  wonderful  performance.  From  the  side  of  the  peak 
a  thin  shoulder  ran  out  toward  the  Avalanche  Valley.  It 
was  about  three  hundred  feet  high.  The  "  formation  " 
stood  on  edge,  quite  perpendicular,  and  there  was  a  band 
of  shaly  stratification  which  had  weathered  a  trifle  below 
the  general  surface  of  the  shoulder.  I  saw  a  goat  appear 
on  the  crest  of  it,  and  start  down  what  looked  like  a 
pathway  of  smooth  and  perpendicular  rock. 

^'  Charlie,  just  see  what  that  goat  is  doing!  " 

We  settled  back  against  the  slide-rock,  and  adjusted 
our  glasses. 

"Well!"  exclaimed  the  guide.  "  He  might  as  well 
be  standing  on  his  head!  " 

Coolly  and  deliberately,  without  any  show  either  of 
haste  or  hesitation,  that  goat  walked  down  the  place  that 
looked  perpendicular.  Not  even  once  did  he  make  a 
false  step,  or  hesitate. 

Over  the  worst  places  he  came  down  two  feet  at  a 
time.  He  reached  down  with  his  forefeet,  planted  them 
far  apart,  then  slid  his  hindfeet  down  between  them 
until  they  too  secured  a  good  hold.  It  looked  as  if  his 
hindquarters  rubbed  against  the  cliff;  and  beyond  ques- 
tion, his  rear  dew-claws  and  the  lowest  joints  of  his  hind- 
legs  did  so. 

Over  the  lower  third  of  the  descent,  where  the  grade 
was  less  steep,  and  the  pathway  offered  rougher  footing, 
the  goat  calmly  walked  down  to  the  bottom,  crossed  the 
slide-rock  and  turned  off  up  the  basin,  toward  a  patch 


136  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

of  grazing-ground.  Very  soon  it  passed  behind  a  point 
that  jutted  out  from  our  ridge,  and  for  a  moment  dis- 
appeared. 

Cautiously  we  descended  a  short  distance,  and  again 
sighted  the  animal.  It  was  quietly  grazing,  and  not  more 
than  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  away.  We  sat  down, 
and  watched  him  until  we  were  tired;  and  then  I  decided 
to  test  his  ears,  his  eyesight  and  his  courage.  Although 
we  were  in  plain  view  of  him,  he  paid  no  attention  to  us. 

I  whistled,  faintly  at  first;  but  he  took  no  notice.  I 
whistled  again,  loud  enough  to  have  startled  any  deer 
feeding  at  the  same  distance,  and  sent  it  flying;  but  still 
no  notice.  Then  I  gave  three  or  four  very  shrill  blasts, 
in  a  manner  specially  developed  in  my  boyhood.  The 
goat  raised  his  head,  and  looked  about  with  an  air  of 
curiosity,  but  stirred  not  from  his  position,  and  mani- 
fested no  alarm.  I  presume  he  thought  that  a  whistling 
marmot  had  found  out  how  to  whistle  with  two  fingers 
in  his  mouth. 

So  long  as  we  remained  motionless,  the  goat  was 
quite  indifferent  to  our  presence.  When  I  left  ofl  whist- 
ling, he  went  on  feeding.  At  last  we  rose  quietly,  and 
moved  on  down;  and  then  he  decided  to  be  going.  I 
said  "  Hello,"  rather  loudly,  but  he  merely  went  on  at 
a  moderately  fast  walk.  When  I  shouted,  he  hastened 
perceptibly;  and  finally,  when  I  yelled  at  him,  he  really 
took  alarm.  But  even  then  he  did  not  leap,  and  stam- 
pede in  a  panicky  way,  as  a  deer  does.  He  simply  trotted 
away  as  fast  as  he  could,  climbed  the  divide  before  him 
at  its  lowest  point,  and  disappeared  over  its  crest. 


TIMBER-LINE    AND   SUMMIT  137 

When  Charlie  and  I  reached  the  bottom  of  the  basin, 
we  examined  the  goat's  pathway,  and,  as  we  expected, 
found  it  not  so  nearly  perpendicular  as  it  looked  from  in 
front.  The  angle  of  it  seemed  to  be  about  forty-five  de- 
grees from  perpendicular.  The  wonder  was  not  that  the 
goat  managed  to  descend  in  safety  over  a  course  on  which 
a  man  could  not  have  travelled  ten  feet,  but  that  it  came 
down  with  such  contemptuous  indifference  and  ease. 

I  am  tempted  to  make  note  of  one  other  climb  that 
Charlie  Smith  and  I  enjoyed  together,  still  in  quest  of 
new  grounds  and  grizzly  bears.  To  me  the  wonders  of 
it,  and  the  weirdness  of  it,  never  will  be  forgotten  while 
I  live. 

Around  the  head  of  Avalanche  Creek  there  was  a 
regular  nest  of  "  notches  "  and  "  divides,"  and  "  passes  " 
by  courtesy  so  called.  We  explored  each  one  of  them, 
always  climbing,  and  although  we  found  little  killable 
big  game,  we  were  so  royally  entertained  by  that  grand 
picture-book  of  Nature  that  we  felt  richly  repaid.  From 
first  to  last  I  climbed  about  fifteen  mountains  in  that 
country,  and  next  to  the  grandeur  of  the  scenery,  its  most 
striking  feature  was  the  marvellous  diversity  of  Nature's 
handiwork.  On  no  two  mountains  did  we  find  the  vege- 
tation, the  ground  and  the  rocks  really  alike;  and  this 
diversification  continued  to  the  very  last  hour  of  the 
trip. 

Bear  with  me  a  moment,  and  I  will  set  down,  as  in 
a  catalogue,  the  salient  features  of  interest  that  one 
passes  through,  or  over,  in  the  course  of  one  day's  climb 
in  that  Wonderland.    I  take  them  all  from  the  notes  of 


ijS   CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

the  day  wherein  Charlie  and  I  climbed  into  the  second 
big  notch  south  of  Phillips  Peak. 

(i)  First  came  the  luxuriant,  balsamy,  sweet-smell- 
ing "  green  timber  "  of  the  valley,  which  climbed  half  a 
mile  or  more  up  the  steep  slope.  In  this  the  rich  earth 
is  smooth,  and  covered  deeply  with  the  dry  needles  of 
Canadian  white  spruce,  jack  pine,  and  balsam.  The  fine- 
leafed,  columnar  larches  are  turning  the  color  of  old 
gold,  and  the  leaves  of  the  quaking  asp  tell  their  name 
by  their  incessant  quivering.  Just  then  the  frost  was 
busily  painting  them  Indian  red. 

(2)  Above  the  heavy  green  timber  comes  the  dwarf 
spruces, — which  I  think  must  be  of  a  species  different 
from  the  great  tree, — and  the  patches  of  yellow-willow 
brush. 

(3)  There  are  patches  of  hard,  bare  earth,  usually 
shaly,  and  often  so  hard  and  smooth  they  are  not  only 
uncomfortable,  but  even  dangerous.  In  freezing  weather 
they  must  be  carefully  avoided ;  for  they  give  no  foothold. 

(4)  The  deep  gullies  that  so  often  score  the  moun- 
tain-sides, cut  down  through  decomposing  shale,  are  a 
prominent  feature,  and  in  traversing  the  side  of  a  steep 
mountain  in  freezing  weather  they  must  be  crossed  with 
the  utmost  care.  At  such  times,  our  guides  regard  them 
as  decidedly  dangerous. 

(5)  Above  the  brush-belt,  often  comes  the  mossy 
pasture-grounds,  in  steps,  like  great  stairs  that  have  been 
covered  with  a  mosslike  carpet  of  Dryas  octopitala 
three  inches  thick. 

(6)  The  "  slides,"  or  avalanche  tracks,   are  every- 


TIMBER-LINE    AND    SUMMIT  139 

where  present,  sometimes  bare  of  trees  and  bushes,  and 
nicely  set  in  grass,  and  again  thinly  covered  with  young 
trees. 

(7)  In  places  are  found  large  patches  of  fine,  loose 
earth,  perfectly  bare. 

(8)  Slide-rock  is  always  to  be  expected,  sometimes 
coming  from  sources  that  are  visible,  and  again  de- 
scended from  goodness  knows  where.  High  up,  it  is 
usually  more  finely  broken  than  lower  down.  Near  the 
top  of  a  steep  divide,  or  "  pass,"  it  is  common  to  find  a 
wide  belt  of  bad  slide-rock  (called  "  scree  "  by  the  pro- 
fessional mountain-climbers,  and  "  talus  "  by  geologists), 
and  often  the  top  also  is  completely  capped  with  it. 

(9)  Occasionally  the  climber  strikes  a  stretch  of 
small  stones,  or,  better  still,  an  acre  or  two  of  loose  shale, 
which  is  very  safe  and  comfortable  while  it  lasts.  Down 
a  good  stretch  of  this  one  can  plough  along  fast  and 
fearlessly,  as  one  descends  the  ashy  side  of  Vesuvius, 
covering  two  yards  at  a  stride. 

(10)  When  it  comes  to  snow,  and  ice, — that  is  an- 
other story,  and  a  long  one. 

It  was  through  a  bewildering  succession  of  such  feat- 
ures as  the  above  that  Charlie  and  I  made  a  long  and 
arduous,  though  nowise  dangerous  climb,  to  the  top  of 
a  pass  that  looked  over  into  the  Elk  River  water-shed. 
It  was  a  cold  day,  and  the  changes  of  temperature  that  a 
climber  experiences  in  one  day  were  absurdly  numerous. 

I  started  up  wearing  my  elk-skin  hunting-shirt,  a  silk 
muffler  around  my  neck,  and  two  suits  of  underclothing. 
At  the  head  of  the  creek  we  took  our  last  drink  of 


I40  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

water,  and  began  to  climb  upward  through  the  green 
timber.  There  being  no  wind  to  speak  of,  the  exercise 
warmed  us. 

At  500  feet  up,  my  gloves  came  ofif,  were  labelled 
"  not  wanted,"  and  stowed  away  in  the  hold. 

At  700  feet,  ofif  came  my  silk  muffler. 

At  1,000  feet,  my  hunting-shirt  was  voted  a  superflu- 
ous luxury,  taken  ofif,  and  strapped  upon  my  back. 

At  1,500  feet,  my  shirt-sleeves  were  turned  up  as  high 
as  they  could  go. 

At  1,800  feet,  all  my  shirts  were  opened  wide  at 
the  neck,  and  we  had  to  wait  for  more  air  to  blow 
along. 

At  2,000  feet  an  icy-cold  wind  struck  us  hard,  and  the 
mercury  began  to  fall.  Collars  were  hurriedly  closed, 
and  sleeves  unreefed  and  made  snug.  To  take  ofif  one's 
cap  to  mop  away  perspiration  was  like  thrusting  one's 
head  into  a  pail  of  ice-water. 

At  about  2,300  feet  above  Avalanche  Creek,  we 
reached  the  summit.  It  was  as  cold  as  Cape  Sabine,  and 
the  icy  wind  blew  half  a  gale.  The  rapid  evaporation 
of  the  perspiration  in  my  clothing  made  my  body  feel 
like  the  cylinder  of  an  ice-cream  freezer.  With  all 
haste,  we  flung  on  our  outer  garments,  put  on  our  gloves, 
and  hurried  over  the  sky-line  to  get  out  of  the  wind. 

A  short  distance  down  the  eastern  side  we  found  an 
old  goat-bed,  in  a  little  depression.  In  this  we  crouched, 
to  scan  the  magnificent  landscape  below,  and  if  possible 
to  get  less  cold.  The  grandeur  of  what  we  saw  instantly 
made  us  forget  the  icy  wind. 


TUVTBER-LINE    and   summit  141 

The  summit  behind  us  was  not  wider  than  a  city  lot, 
and  in  one  magnificent  sweep  of  half  a  mile,  without  a 
big  rock  or  a  tree,  it  swept  down,  down,  down  to  the  bot- 
tom of  a  huge,  green  basin  in  which  a  grand  army  could 
have  encamped. 

On  our  right,  and  close  at  hand,  there  rose  high  above 
us, — and  also  dropped  far  below, — the  most  awful  wall 
of  rock  that  I  saw  in  British  Columbia.  From  bottom 
to  top  its  perpendicular  face  was,  I  am  sure,  not  less 
than  a  thousand  feet.  From  it,  there  was  an  almost  con- 
tinuous rattle  of  falling  rock.  Even  had  we  seen  a  sheep 
on  the  face  of  it,  we  would  not  have  had  the  heart  to 
shoot  the  animal  and  see  it  fall  off. 

The  impressive  height  of  that  grim  wall  was  strongly 
emphasized  by  the  softer  details  of  the  great  basin  far 
below.  It  was  fitting  that  the  grandest  precipice  should 
rise  from  the  grandest  basin  in  those  mountains,  and 
cradle  at  its  foot  a  tiny  lake  that  was  like  a  big  emerald. 

The  world  below  us  was  unrolled  like  a  map.  The 
outlines  of  the  dark-green  timber,  as  yet  untouched  by 
fire,  and  the  intervening  patches  of  light  yellow-green 
grass,  hemmed  in  on  two  sides  by  frowning  walls  of  dark- 
gray  rock  and  bounded  in  the  distance  by  a  succession  of 
mountains  running  thirty  miles  away  to  the  snowy  peaks 
on  the  Continental  Divide,  made  a  grand  and  impressive 
picture. 

For  half  an  hour  we  sat  with  our  backs  against  the 
mountain-side,  absorbing  the  magnificent  panorama  into 
our  systems.  We  spoke  little.  All  at  once  I  saw  some- 
thing new,  and  looked  quickly  at  Charlie.    At  the  same 


142  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

instant  his  face  lighted  up  with  a  gleam  of  intelligence, 
and  he  looked  sharply  at  me. 

"An  elk,  Charlie?" 

After  a  little  pause,  with  his  glass  at  his  eyes,  he 
answered, 

"Yes;  a  full-grown  bull.  .  .  .  That's  the  fellow 
whose  trail  we  found  yesterday  in  False  Notch." 

Far  down  in  the  bottom  of  the  basin,  where  the  green 
timber  halted  at  the  foot  of  our  slope,  an  elk  had  walked 
out  into  the  middle  of  a  little  grass-plat,  as  if  to  give  us 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  him.  He  carried  a  good  pair  of 
antlers,  and  he  looked  big  and  beautiful.  It  was  indeed 
a  keen  pleasure  to  see  a  living,  wild,  adult  bull  elk  in 
British  Columbia,  and  to  know  for  fair  that  even  there 
the  species  is  not  yet  extinct. 

For  about  five  minutes  the  majestic  animal  grazed 
on  the  grass-plat,  then  marched  to  the  edge  of  his  little 
glade,  and  browsed  on  some  of  the  green  branches  that 
he  found  there.  Finally,  like  a  dissolving  view  he  van- 
ished in  the  thick  green  timber,  and  we  saw  him  no  more. 
It  was  the  only  elk  that  was  seen  on  that  trip. 

There  was  no  other  game  visible  in  the  great  basin; 
and  we  voted  unanimously  that  it  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion to  descend  that  long  eastward  slope,  hunt  through 
the  basin,  and  recross  the  mountain  to  camp,  all  in  one 
afternoon. 

We  decided  to  hunt  back  home  by  skirting  the  east- 
ern mountain-side  of  Avalanche  Creek,  at  timber-line, 
and  thereby  have  a  good  look  for  both  bear  and  sheep. 

First  we  went  to  look  at  the  carcasses  of  the  four 


A    Big-Horn    Ram's   Signature 


Goat   Lick,    on   the   Southern   Slope   of  Cvclorama    Ridge 

See  page  239. 


TIMBER-LINE    AND   SUMMIT  143 

goats  killed  on  Phillips  Peak,  and  finding  no  bear-signs 
about  them,  we  swung  off  on  our  long  mountain-side 
tramp. 

By  that  time,  the  day  had  grown  stormy.  The  west 
wind  had  borne  up  a  mass  of  leaden  clouds  that  com- 
pletely obscured  the  sun;  but  fortunately  they  flew  well 
above  us.  It  was  evident  that  snow  was  on  the  wings 
of  the  wind.  Whenever  we  crossed  a  wedge  of  green 
timber  we  went  at  a  swift  pace,  but  at  every  basin,  and 
every  open  pathway  of  an  avalanche,  we  hunted  very 
cautiously. 

Before  our  progress,  that  mountain-side  unrolled  like 
a  panorama,  in  an  endless  chain  of  timbered  ridges,  hol- 
low basins,  steep  slopes,  ridges  of  slide-rock,  and  frown- 
ing cliffs  looming  up  into  the  flying  clouds. 

Once  we  passed  a  very  curious  feature.  From  the 
side  of  a  cliff,  half  way  from  basin-bottom  to  summit, 
there  came  out  a  huge  mass  of  slide-rock  that  looked  like 
an  enormous  dump  from  a  mountain  mine.  The  level 
top  ran  back  to  the  face  of  the  rock  wall,  and  it  looked 
as  if  cars  had  run  out  of  the  bowels  of  the  mountain,  and 
dumped  there  ten  million  tons  of  broken  limestone,  in 
slide-rock  sizes.  The  resemblance  was  perfect,  and  I 
told  Charlie  to  enter  the  name  of  that  feature  as  "  The 
Dump." 

That  was  an  awe-inspiring  scramble. 

Even  a  sensible  dog  would  have  been  impressed  by 
the  majesty  of  the  rugged  rock  walls  towering  heaven- 
ward; the  rugged  terrors  of  the  acres  and  acres  of  cruel 
slide-rock;  the  weird,  squawking  cries  of  the  Clark's 


144  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

crows  and  Canada  jays  that  circled  about  us,  or  perched 
briefly  on  the  tips  of  the  dead  and  ragged  spruces;  the 
whistling  of  the  cold,  raw  wind  through  the  pines,  and 
over  all  the  dull  gray  clouds  flying  swiftly  and  silently 
across  the  tops  of  the  peaks. 

We  climbed  on  and  on,  seeing  much  but  saying  little. 
In  a  patch  of  green  timber,  we  found  a  nut-pine  tree 
that  had  been  butted  and  badly  scarred,  by  a  mountain 
sheep  ram.  Its  stem  was  about  ten  inches  in  diameter, 
and  about  three  feet  from  the  ground  the  horns  of  a  lusty 
sheep  had  battered  the  bark  off,  quite  down  to  the  wood. 
Two  long,  elliptical  scars  were  left,  with  a  narrow  strip 
of  living  bark  between  them,  as  a  record  of  the  time 
when  a  well-fed  ram  passed  that  way,  and  was  seized 
by  the  boy-like  impulse  to  carve  his  name  in  the  bark  of 
a  tree.  This  is  a  favorite  pastime  of  mountain  sheep 
rams  during  the  months  of  September  and  October,  when 
they  are  so  full  of  grass  and  energy  that  the  mountains 
seem  scarcely  big  enough  to  contain  them. 

To  scramble  for  several  hours  along  a  steep  mountain- 
side, going  always  in  the  same  direction,  is  very  wearing 
upon  the  ankles,  and  tends  to  make  one  leg  shorter  than 
it  really  ought  to  be.  At  the  "  psychological  moment," 
— whatever  that  may  be, — Charlie  changed  our  course, 
and  bore  diagonally  downward  until  we  struck  the  bot- 
tom of  Avalanche  Valley  close  to  the  circle  of  light  that 
radiated  from  the  blazing  logs  of  our  royal  camp-fire. 

And  then  it  began  to  snow. 


CHAPTER   X 

ALONE  ON  A  MOUNTAIN 

Getting  Next  to  Nature — Waterfall  Notch — The  Pika  at  Home — 
Ground  -  Squirrels  and  Grizzly  Bears  —  Temptation  Goats  — 
Variations  between  Summits — Fool-Hens  and  Ptarmigan — Dwarf 
Spruces — Bull  River — Mule-Deer  Grounds — Berries  of  the  Moun- 
tains— Charlie  Smith  Finds  Grizzly-Bear  Signs. 

*'0,  puny  Man,  wouldst  thou  atone 
For  years  of  swelling  ego  heart, 
Go,  tread  the  mountain-top  alone. 
And  learn  how  very  small  thou  art!" 

— The  Spell  of  the  Mountains. 

If  you  would  get  next  the  soul  of  Nature,  go  to  meet 
her  as  you  call  upon  your  sweetheart, — alone.  There 
are  times  when  the  presence  of  one's  dearest  friend  is  a 
distraction.  If  you  would  feel  the  mystic  Spell  of  the 
Mountains,  go  into  them  as  Moses  did  when  he  met  God 
and  received  The  Law, — alone.  If  you  would  know 
what  it  is  to  feel  so  awed  by  the  panorama  of  the  world 
that  you  lose  half  your  desire  to  find  killable  game,  and 
for  a  few  hours  cease  to  be  a  predatory  animal,  climb  a 
fine  mountain  all  alone.  In  that  way  one  sees  things  and 
feels  things  that  are  veiled  by  the  presence  of  any  other 
human  being.  The  moral  uplift  that  one  feels  when 
alone  on  a  wild  prairie  is  magnified  five  times  on  a  first- 
class  mountain. 

>45 


146  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

Quite  aside  from  the  animal  life,  the  strange  vegeta- 
tion of  the  mountain  heights  near  timber-line  is  enough 
to  tempt  any  one  upward.  It  is  far  more  interesting, 
yard  for  yard,  than  anything  one  finds  in  the  tropics. 
On  a  high  mountain,  at  timber-line  one  finds  only  the 
bravest  and  the  hardiest  of  Nature's  trees,  and  flowers, 
and  animals.  Wherever  vegetation  climbs  up  in  genu- 
ine luxuriance  to  six  thousand  feet,  and  is  suddenly  and 
rudely  stopped  short  at  seven  thousand  feet,  the  finish  is 
as  keenly  interesting  as  finishes  generally  are.  It  is  good 
to  climb  up  through  a  living  exposition  of  the  survival 
of  the  fittest,  both  in  plant  life  and  animal  life. 

Two  days  after  our  goat-hunt  on  Phillips  Peak,  an 
incident  occurred  which  caused  our  little  party  to  scat- 
ter, for  two  days.  Just  before  sunset,  we  saw  far  aloft, 
on  the  sky-line  of  the  mountain  range  that  ran  along 
the  eastern  side  of  Avalanche  Creek,  a  band  of  twelve 
mountain  sheep,  all  rams.  Naturally  this  exhibit  caused 
quite  a  sensation  in  camp,  and  eventually  it  produced 
several  important  results.  Mr.  Phillips  wished  to  kill 
a  big  ram  for  the  Carnegie  Museum,  but  having  had 
my  chance  at  sheep,  in  Wyoming,  I  had  vowed  to  hunt 
sheep  no  more. 

Accordingly,  on  the  following  morning,  Mr.  Phil- 
lips and  the  Norboes  took  packs  on  their  backs,  with 
three  days'  rations,  and  departed  on  a  hunt  for  the  rams 
of  the  previous  day.  Charlie  Smith  went  off  on  a  long 
tramp  to  look  for  grizzly-bear  signs,  for  my  special  bene- 
fit.    Instead  of  going  with  him  as  usual,  on  that  day  I 


o  - 


o      - 


ALONE    ON    A    MOUNTAIN  147 

decided  to  climb  to  a  certain  summit  west  of  camp,  on 
which  I  had  noted  from  Phillips  Peak  (opposite),  some 
excellent  grounds  for  mule  deer.  I  felt  that  I  would 
like  to  explore  those  summits  all  alone,  and  have  a  good 
think,  game  or  no  game. 

As  a  matter  of  ordinary  precaution,  I  told  Charlie 
and  Huddleston  where  I  intended  to  go,  and  asked  for 
any  directions  that  might  be  helpful.  Charlie  told  me 
that  an  old  game-trail  led  around  the  waterfall  I  in- 
tended to  strike,  and  that  if  I  went  hither  and  yon,  and 
thus  and  so,  I  would  probably  strike  it.  His  directions 
were  clear  enough,  but  somehow  I  have  before  now 
found  it  difficult  to  make  the  ground-plan  of  a  wild 
western  landscape  fit  the  specifications  of  it.  This  time, 
however,  I  resolved  to  try  to  do  better  in  that  respect. 

Seldom  have  I  seen  in  any  land  a  finer  day.  The 
sun  shone  bravely,  but  at  intervals  it  was  partly  obscured 
by  fleecy  white  clouds  that  briskly  drifted  up  from  the 
west,  then  passed  on  over.  The  air  was  wondrous  clear, 
and  just  cold  enough  to  be  invigorating. 

Charlie's  one  direction  which  I  had  so  firmly  spiked 
down  that  it  failed  to  escape,  was  that  I  would  do  well 
to  go  as  far  as  possible  up  the  bed  of  the  little  creek  that 
came  down  from  my  Waterfall  Notch.  This  I  did.  At 
first  I  found  it  absolutely  dry,  and  the  going  over  the 
small,  smooth  dornicks  was  rather  easy.  But  in  a  short 
time,  the  dense  green  timber  that  filled  the  valley  threw 
so  many  tree-trunks  across  the  stream's  course  that  I  was 
obliged  to  scramble  out  and  take  to  the  easier  bank. 

At  that  point  Charlie's  directions  were  lost  in  the 


148  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

shuffle,  like  a  creek  running  under  slide-rock;  biit  I 
hoped  they  would,  streamlike,  come  to  the  surface  far- 
ther on.  From  moment  to  moment  I  chose  the  least  dif- 
ficult route,  as  does  a  wild  man  or  a  wild  beast  in  mark- 
ing out  a  trail  for  the  first  time.  On  the  north  side  of 
the  creek  I  scrambled  through  some  very  much  tangled 
"  down  timber  "  amid  the  "  green  timber,"  always  going 
up,  of  course,  and  presently  emerged  upon  a  five-acre 
tract  of  very  coarse  and  cruelly  sharp  slide-rock.  Over 
that  toilsome  stretch  I  went  with  the  attention  which  such 
treacherous  and  dangerous  stuff  demands,  and  finally  I 
reached  the  upper  limit  of  that  also. 

Looking  ahead,  I  saw  my  waterfall,  hard  at  work 
pouring  a  collection  of  two-inch  streams  over  a  fifty-foot 
precipice, — all  of  which  promptly  vanished  from  sight 
under  the  slide-rock  that  had  been  carried  across  the 
stream-bed.  At  that  time,  the  fall  was  not  very  impres- 
sive, because  the  volume  of  water  was  too  small  for 
grandeur.  Still,  a  natural  waterfall  in  a  mountain  land- 
scape is  always  grateful  to  the  eye,  and  companionable. 

As  I  picked  my  way  upward  over  the  slide-rock,  the 
plaintive,  whistling  cry  of  the  pika,  or  little  chief  "  hare," 
came  to  me  from  a  chaos  of  large  rocks  piled  near  the 
edge  of  a  half-acre  of  weeds.  The  cry  sounds  like  the 
word  cheap,  pitched  very  high  and  much  prolonged. 
The  cry  of  this  creature  is  so  elusive  one  seldom  can 
locate  it  with  precision,  so  making  as  good  a  guess  as 
possible,  I  sat  down  to  wait  for  the  little  brother  of  the 
rocks  to  appear. 

I  sat  motionless  for  perhaps  ten  minutes,  and  then 


ALONE    ON    A    MOUNTAIN  149 

my  small  neighbor  appeared.  Like  a  modest  little  gray 
shadow  it  seemed  to  slide  out  from  nowhere  to  the  level 
top  of  a  chunk  of  stone,  and  there  halted  to  observe  the 
world.  Except  for  his  short  round  ears,  he  looked  like 
a  half-grown  gray  rabbit.  I  waited  for  him  to  go  to  work 
at  cutting  his  winter's  supply  of  hay,  but  he  was  too  delib- 
erate, and  before  he  began  his  day's  work  I  was  obliged 
to  move  on. 

Let  it  be  remembered  at  this  point  that  this  little 
creature,  so  long  called  the  little  chief  "  hare,"  or  crying 
"  hare,"  is  not  a  hare,  nor  is  it  even  a  member  of  the 
Hare  and  Rabbit  Family  (Leporid^e).  It  is  so  odd  that 
it  stands  alone,  in  a  Family  limited  to  its  own  small  self, 
containing  only  the  pikas.  But,  small  and  lonesome 
though  he  be,  the  pika  is  wise.  Neither  marten,  wol- 
verine nor  grizzly  can  dig  him  out  of  his  slide-rock,  and 
we  never  once  saw  a  place  where  a  bear  had  even  tried 
to  do  so.  But  the  nearest  neighbor  of  the  pika  has  far 
less  wisdom. 

In  many  localities  around  Phillips  Peak  we  found 
big  holes  in  the  ground  that  had  been  dug  by  grizzly 
bears  in  quest  of  Columbia  River  ground-squirrels.* 
Indeed,  we  saw  more  holes  than  ground-squirrels.  This 
animal  looks  like  a  long-bodied  Carolina  gray  squirrel 
with  a  half-sized  tail.  Usually  it  is  found  in  the  moun- 
tain basins,  and  in  other  open  situations  below  timber- 
line  where  the  earth  is  right  for  burrowing. 

We  saw  between  forty  and  fifty  holes,  from  two  to 
three  feet  deep,  and  usually  three  feet  in  surface  diam- 

*  Citellus  columhianus. 


I50  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

eter,  each  of  which  marked  a  tragedy.  Unfortunately, 
the  silly  ground-squirrel  has  not  yet  learned,  either  by 
inheritance  or  in  the  "school  of  the  woods  "(!),  that  a 
three-foot  burrow  is  the  same  as  a  pantry  shelf  to  a  hun- 
gry grizzly,  and  that  no  Citellus  is  safe  who  stops  his 
burrow  anywhere  above  a  vertical  depth  of  six  feet. 
With  plenty  of  time,  and  no  end  of  earth,  the  foolish 
ground-squirrel  (here  called  the  "  gopher"),  rests  from 
his  digging  just  under  the  frost-line.  In  October  the 
grizzly  joyously  rips  out  half  a  cubic  yard  of  earth, 
thrusts  his  deadly  hooks  on  down  to  the  end  of  the  bur- 
row, and  Citellus  quickly  is  converted  into  half  an  ounce 
of  bear-oil. 

Between  the  grizzlies  underground,  and  the  greedy 
marten  above  ground,  the  mountains  of  British  Columbia 
will  not  be  overrun  by  ground-squirrels,  chipmunks,  nor 
other  small  mammals  until  the  fangs  and  claws  decrease. 

But  this  is  a  digression. 

I  soon  saw  that  the  way  around  the  north  side  of  the 
fall  was  very  rugged  and  precipitous,  and  far  too  diffi- 
cult to  be  chosen  voluntarily.  Accordingly  I  crossed  the 
dry  stream-bed,  and  started  to  climb,  by  hand  and  foot, 
up  the  extremely  steep  southern  side,  which  happened 
to  be  covered  with  a  good  growth  of  green  timber.  I 
had  not  gone  more  than  a  hundred  yards  when  I  struck 
the  old  trail  that  Charlie  had  mentioned.  Feeling  very 
complacent  over  the  finding  of  the  right  course  by  plain 
animal  instinct,  I  blithely  swung  on  up,  and  soon  stood 
on  level  ground  above  the  falls. 

And  then  I  noted  how  very  different  the  ground  be- 


The   Little   Haymaker   of  the   Slide- Rock 

Pika,   or   Little  Chief   "  Hare." 


The   Grizzly's  Lawful   Prey — The   Columbia   River   Ground-Squirrel 

F.very  year  thousands  of  these  are  dug  out  of  their  burrows  and  eaten   by  the  grizzlies. 


ALONE    ON    A    MOUNTAIN  151 

yond  the  fall  really  was  from  what  it  had  looked  to  be, 
as  I  saw  it  from  the  other  side  of  Avalanche  Valley.  At 
a  distance  of  two  miles,  and  a  higher  elevation,  it  had 
seemed  that  from  the  waterfall  a  long,  gently  sloping 
ridge  ran  back  for  a  considerable  distance.  In  actuality, 
behind  the  waterfall,  I  found  an  eight-acre  meadow, 
nearly  level,  and  covered  with  rank  grass.  Beyond  that, 
a  steep  mountain  divide  climbs  on  up.  On  the  north 
rose  an  easy  peak,  and  on  the  south,  close  at  hand,  there 
towered  aloft  a  massive  dome  of  naked  rock.  On  get- 
ting clear  of  that,  one  looks  far  southward  into  another 
big  basin,  half  encircled  by  a  lofty  wall  of  rock  that 
rises  sheer  to  the  sky-line.  Upon  a  ledge  of  that  wall, 
about  four  hundred  yards  distant,  I  saw  two  billy  goats 
of  shootable  size,  basking  in  the  glorious  beams  of  the 
morning  sun. 

When  I  realized  how  comparatively  easy  it  would  be 
to  climb  up,  south-westerly,  swing  around  under  the  sky- 
line and  fetch  up  within  easy  range  of  those  goats,  it 
gave  me  a  disturbed  and  anxious  feeling.  I  knew  I 
ought  not  kill  any  more  goats,  having  three; — but  a  head 
is  a  head,  and  my  friends  are  many.  Would  I  be  strong 
enough  to  resist  that  temptation  throughout  a  whole 
sunny  day,  with  twenty  cartridges  grinning  in  my  belt 
like  the  teeth  of  a  wild  animal,  and  those  two  old  billies 
mine  by  act  of  parliament,  if  I  chose  to  take  them? 

After  a  long  survey  of  the  animals,  I  said,  "  Get  thee 
behind  me,  Satan!  "  Resolutely  I  turned  my  back  upon 
them,  and  decided  to  climb  to  the  summit  by  way  of  the 
gulch  that  came  down  farthest  away  from  them,  north- 


152  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

erly.  By  walking  rapidly  I  would  soon  be  so  far  away 
that  it  would  be  too  much  of  a  task  to  return  for  just 
one  or  two  old  goats. 

My  little  gulch  came  down  very  steeply,  in  a  course 
that  was  almost  due  south.  In  each  direction  from  its 
bed  there  stretched  upward,  at  the  comfortable  angle  of 
about  thirty  degrees,  a  wide,  smooth  sweep  of  ridge-side 
that  suggested  Dream  Mountains.  The  hand  of  Nature 
had  smoothed  those  slopes,  and  planted  them,  to  afford  a 
soothing  and  restful  contrast  with  all  the  mountains  sur- 
rounding them.  Think  of  the  horrible  rock-pile,  a  mile 
farther  north,  which  Charlie  and  I  climbed  two  days 
previously,  in  False  Notch.  Here  there  were  no  stretches 
of  grinning  slide-rock,  no  rock  walls,  no  timber,  either 
down  or  green,  no  neck-breakers  of  any  kind.  All  was 
balmy  peace.  To  save  the  face  of  the  slopes  from  hav- 
ing an  air  of  desolation,  each  was  planted  very  evenly 
with  stunted  spruces  and  junipers,  set  eight  feet  apart. 
They  grew  with  wonderful  regularity,  and  so  nicely  scat- 
tered that  walking  was  not  at  all  impeded  by  them. 

I  chose  the  slope  of  the  western  hill,  because  the  sun 
shone  full  upon  it,  and  went  up  on  a  line  about  a  hun- 
dred feet  above  the  bottom  of  the  little  naked  gulch. 
The  opposite  mountain  side  was  so  queer,  and  so  beauti- 
ful in  the  nursery-like  regularity  of  its  planting,  that  I 
frequently  sat  down  to  rest  and  enjoy  the  sight  of  it.  It 
looked  for  all  the  world  like  an  immense  relief-map, 
such  as  I  have  made  before  now,  set  with  toy  evergreens, 
and  tilted  up  on  edge  to  enable  one  to  look  down  upon 
it.     I  never  before  saw  so  odd  a  picture  of  mountain 


ALONE    ON   A    MOUNTAIN  153 

verdure.  I  could  have  counted  every  one  of  the  toy 
trees  on  that  whole  mountain  side  without  moving  from 
my  seat.    It  represented  timber-line,  for  fair. 

But  even  there,  in  the  Dream  Mountains,  the  serpent 
reared  its  head.  When  I  sat  down  to  enjoy  the  sceneries, 
I  saw  those  goats,  ever  so  plainly;  and  the  tempter  whis- 
pered, "  It  would  be  quite  a  feat  to  kill  those  goats,  alone 
and  guideless,  and  carry  in  the  heads  of  both.  .  .  .  Per- 
haps one  of  them  is  larger  than  any  one  of  the  dead  six! 
.  .  .  You  have  come  far  to  reach  this  country,  and  with- 
out a  grizzly  bear, — which  assuredly  you  will  not  get, — 
you  will  have  only  goats  to  show.  A  successful  stalk, 
under  the  rim  of  that  mountain,  would  be  very  interest- 
mg;  and  it  would  properly  round  out  a  glorious  day." 

I  listened  to  such  as  this  until  the  iteration  of  it 
became  irritating,  then  I  sprang  up  and  climbed  on  in 
the  opposite  direction.  And  then  Vishnu,  the  goddess 
of  Preservation,  brought  me  to  a  bunch  of  sooty  grouse. 
When  the  first  bird  exploded  into  the  air,  close  beside 
me,  I  was  well  startled.  The  bird  flew  about  fifty  feet 
and  alighted  near  its  mates,  thus  giving  me  a  good  oppor- 
tunity to  see  them  on  the  ground,  and  note  their  actions. 

The  story  of  a  flock  of  fool-hens  is  like  the  annals  of 
the  poor, — short  and  simple.  Each  bird  stalks  about 
stiffly,  with  head  well  up,  gazing  and  gazing  at  the 
intruder,  in  stupid  wonder  that  is  wondrously  stupid. 
With  a  shot-gun,  there  would  be  about  as  much  excite- 
ment in  shooting  one  as  there  would  be  in  killing  a  sloth 
on  the  run.  To  a  marksman  who  wants  the  birds  for 
food,  there  is  some  interest  in  shooting  them  through  the 


154  CAMP-FIRES  IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

head  with  a  .22-calibre  pistol;  but  with  a  good  rifle  or 
shot-gun,  it  is  plain  murder  in  the  first  degree.  In  flight 
this  bird  strongly  resembles  the  pinnated  grouse,  or 
prairie-chicken,  except  that  the  flight  of  the  latter  is 
stronger. 

On  the  summit  of  the  divide,  and  beyond  the  last  of 
the  stunted  spruces,  I  found  some  willow  ptarmigan. 
Their  snow-white  wings  and  tails,  in  full  winter  plu- 
mage, contrasted  sharply  with  the  brown  summer  plu- 
mage which  still  clothed  their  bodies.  As  usual,  these 
birds  slowly  stalked  about  over  the  sky  meadow,  quite 
willing  that  I  should  approach  within  ten  feet  of  them. 
At  last,  however,  they  rose,  saying  "  cluck-cluck-cluck," 
and  flew  down  the  mountain  a  quarter  of  a  mile. 

Above  the  point  where  my  friendly  little  gulch  starts 
down,  a  view  from  the  summit  reveals  a  sudden  drop 
toward  Bull  River,  and  a  great  basin  below.  Turning 
southward,  I  followed  the  sky-line  of  the  summit  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  thoroughly  inspect  every  outcrop  of 
sheep  rocks,  and  every  patch  of  open  timber.  The  for- 
mer might  contain  mule  deer,  and  either  might  harbor  a 
band  of  sheep. 

At  one  point  on  the  summit  I  found  a  very  interest- 
ing growth  of  stunted  spruces.  They  grew  in  family 
clumps,  about  as  far  apart  as  the  trees  in  an  orchard, 
and  the  curious  thing  about  them  was  that  they  were  so 
stunted  by  the  warfare  of  the  elements  that  they  were 
really  pygmy  trees.  Their  large  trunks,  low  stature, — 
seldom  exceeding  five  feet, — and  dwarfed  limbs  remind 
one  of  the  strange  dwarf  trees  produced  by  the  tie-back 


ALONE    ON    A    MOUNTAIN  155 

process  of  the  Japanese.  On  a  commanding  point,  I 
found  a  clump  which  was  crescent-shaped,  with  its  con- 
vex side  toward  the  west  wind,  and  in  its  embrace  I 
halted  for  half  an  hour  to  gaze  over  the  top  of  the 
evergreen  barricade.  The  encircled  ground  had  been 
tramped  bare,  and  it  was  evident  that  many  a  goat  and 
sheep  had  recently  sheltered  there. 

The  mountain  slope  that  swept  down  to  Bull  River 
was  a  gray  and  melancholy  waste.  From  a  short  distance 
below  the  summit,  fire  had  devastated  the  mountain  side, 
killing  every  tree,  and  exposing  all  the  outcroppings  of 
rugged  rock  and  cliff.  Near  by,  the  tall  gray  tree- 
trunks,  shorn  of  their  branches,  were  like  untrimmed 
telegraph-poles;  farther  on,  we  saw  what  seemed  to  be 
a  forest  of  hop-poles,  and  beyond  that  appeared  a  thin 
mantle  of  gray  quills,  like  the  covering  of  a  hedgehog. 

Two  miles  away,  the  east  fork  of  Bull  River  mean- 
dered through  a  narrow  valley  of  dead  timber,  and  on  its 
farther  side,  narrow  valleys  climbed  up  westward,  until 
they  stopped  abruptly  in  regulation  rock  basins,  bounded 
by  precipitous  cliffs.  And  even  as  I  looked  across,  and 
wondered  what  big  game  might  be  therein,  I  heard  the 
unmistakable  "  Ser-/^m!"  of  a  hunter's  rifle.  Some  one 
was  hunting  in  the  rugged  valley  directly  opposite  my 
eyrie,  and  had  found  game.  Who  could  it  be,  in  that 
wild  place?  Surely  it  was  no  one  from  the  Elk  River 
Valley. 

In  the  course  of  an  hour,  I  heard  about  twelve  shots; 
but  two  months  elapsed  ere  I  learned  that  the  hunters 
were  from  Fort  Steele,  and  were  in  quest  of  mule  deer. 


156  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

The  western  side  of  my  slope  seemed  specially  favor- 
able for  mule  deer,  and  in  the  hope  of  finding  either 
deer  in  the  green  timber  or  sheep  near  the  cliifs,  I  hunted 
far  down.  It  was  good  to  get  on  ground  that  was  not 
rocky,  and  to  hunt  through  real  "  mule-deer  country." 
Find  it  where  you  may,  in  bad-lands,  foot-hills  or  moun- 
tains, the  home  of  the  mule  deer  is  always  a  beautiful 
hunting-ground. 

But  I  found  no  big  game;  and  at  one  o'clock  I 
selected  a  lovely  spot,  in  a  clump  of  sturdy  spruces, 
chose  a  soft  resting-place  on  a  bed  of  dry  needles,  and 
sat  down  to  rest  and  eat  my  luncheon  of  Fry's  sweet 
chocolate. 

"  As  I  settled  myself,  I  noticed  that  I  was  on  the  bor-' 
der  of  an  extensive  bed  of  tiny  huckleberry  bushes.  The 
shrubs  were  only  about  six  inches  high,  but  were  hang- 
ing thick  with  very  small,  pink  huckleberries,  the  size  of 
No.  6  shot.  That  species  is  very  common  throughout 
those  mountains.  Usually  the  bushes  grow  so  thinly  it 
does  not  pay  to  pick  such  small  berries;  but  these  bore  so 
abundantly  that  I  combed  the  fruit  oflf  the  almost  leafless 
stems,  by  the  handful,  winnowed  it  to  clear  away  the 
debris^  and  ate  until  my  fruit-hunger  cried,  "  Enough!  " 

An  appreciable  supply  of  wild  fruit  or  nuts  gives 
one  a  very  friendly  feeling  toward  the  land  that  pro- 
duces it.  In  the  tropics,  you  can  starve,  at  almost  any 
time  or  place,  with  rank  vegetation  all  about  you,  be- 
cause there  is  so  very  little  that  is  edible.  After  nearly 
five  years  spent  in  tropical  jungles,  I  can  count  on  the 
fingers  of  one  hand  the  occasions  wherein  I  was  able  to 


ALONE    ON   A    MOUNTAIN  157 

satisfy  my  hunger  with  wild  fruits  found  in  the  forest; 
and  as  for  nuts,  I  never  found  one. 

But  in  the  temperate  zone, — dear  me!  Think  of  the 
delicious  plums,  the  berries  of  a  dozen  kinds,  the 
wild  grapes,  pawpaws,  persimmons,  crab-apples,  haws 
red  and  haws  black,  and  nuts  without  end! 

Here  in  these  mountains,  we  found  in  September  the 
following  berries,  ripe  and  edible: 

Huckleberries;  five  species,  widely  scattered;  abun- 
dant in  places. 

Black  Currants;  very  common,  dead  ripe;  quite  bitter, 
but  good  to  quench  thirst. 

Saskatoon,  or  Service-Berry;  favorite  food  for  griz- 
zly bears  in  September. 

Elderberry;  in  clumps  in  many  valleys;  plentiful. 

Soap-Berry;  two  species,  red  and  yellow;  like  cur- 
rants, very  bitter. 

Red  Raspberry;  but  we  found  only  one  patch. 

Thimbleberry;  grows  solitary,  in  green  timber  only. 

Strawberry;  a  few  found,  high  on  the  mountains. 

In  addition  to  the  above,  which  we  saw,  there  is  the 
Sarsaparilla-Berry,  of  the  large  river  valleys;  the  Red 
Cahoosh;  and  the  Bear-Berry,  which  is  a  strong  cathartic. 

The  very  desirable  bull-berry  of  Montana  and  Wy- 
oming does  not  grow  in  the  mountains  of  British  Colum- 
bia. In  the  green  timber  we  found  a  beautiful  scarlet 
berry,  shaped  like  a  long,  thin,  Boston  baked  bean,  which 
no  one  could  name  or  vouch  for. 

When  my  mid-day  rest  was  finished,  I  went  on  hunt- 
ing.   Striking  a  much-used  game-trail  on  the  summit,  I 


158  CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

followed  it  southward  until  it  ran  up  the  southern  peak 
far  above  timber-line,  and  led  me  quite  near  those  temp- 
tation goats.  Always  those  goats!  I  felt  quite  put  out 
with  them  because  they  had  fed  toward  me  instead  of 
away  from  me. 

For  half  an  hour  I  amused  myself  with  watching 
them,  and  testing  their  senses  by  whistling  to  them,  say- 
ing, "Ah!"  in  various  tones,  and  mystifying  them  gen- 
erally, until  at  last  they  took  alarm  on  general  prin- 
ciples, and  concluded  to  leave.  Then  in  some  haste  they 
climbed  over  the  summit.  As  they  disappeared  I  turned 
and  strode  down  the  eastern  slope,  campward,  after  as 
soul-filling  a  day  as  I  ever  spent  in  the  lap  of  Nature, 
but  without  having  fired  a  shot.  I  reached  camp  about 
half  an  hour  before  sunset,  and  found  that  the  reward 
for  my  abstemiousness  on  those  temptation  goats  was  all 
ready.  Charlie  Smith  had  just  arrived,  after  a  weari- 
some tramp  of  twenty-four  miles,  and  reported  that  he 
had  visited  all  the  goat  carcasses.  At  those  of  our  first 
two  goats  he  found  two  wolverines,  and  took  a  long  shot 
at  one  of  them.  There  were  fresh  grizzly-hear  signs  all 
about! 

"  And  to-morrow.  Director,"  said  Charlie  in  conclu- 
sion, "  you're  going  to  have  a  chance  at  a  silver-tip!  " 

Outwardly,  I  received  this  assurance  with  brisk  ap- 
preciation, but  inwardly  I  felt  that  the  chances  against 
me  were  as  nine  to  one. 


CHAPTER    XI 

MY  GRIZZLY-BEAR  DAY 

Rubbing-Trees  of  Bears — Fresh  Grizzly  "Signs"  Reported — A  Trip 
to  the  Goat  Remains — A  Silver-Tip  at  Work — Her  Death — The 
Autopsy — Amateur  Photography  and  its  Results — The  Bear's 
Cache — Wolverines  Observed — A  Jollification  in  Camp. 

When  one  can  start  out  from  camp,  and  in  a  walk 
of  two  hours  find  at  least  a  dozen  rubbing-trees  of  grizzly 
bears,  each  one  with  bear  hair  clinging  to  its  bark,  then 
may  one  say,  "This  is  bear  country!"  That  was  what 
we  found  in  the  green  timber  of  Avalanche  Valley,  be- 
tween our  camp  and  Roth  Mountain,  six  miles  below. 
All  the  rubbing-trees  we  saw  were  from  eight  to  twelve 
inches  in  diameter,  as  if  small  ones  had  been  specially 
chosen.  I  suppose  this  is  because  there  are  no  large 
spur  roots  to  interfere  with  the  "Standing  bear;  besides 
which,  a  small  tree  offers  a  sharper  edge. 

On  those  trees  we  saw  where  several  of  the  rubbing 
bears  had  bitten  the  trunk,  high  up,  tearing  the  bark 
open  crosswise.  We  also  found,  on  some,  raking  claw- 
marks  across  the  bark.  Charlie  Smith  said  that  the 
tooth-marks  are  always  made  by  grizzlies  and  the  claw- 
marks  by  black  bears. 

As  before  remarked,  Mr.  Phillips  and  Charlie  Smith 
were  very  desirous  that  I  should  find  and  kill  a  grizzly, 
but  for  several  reasons  I  had  little  hope  that  it  would 

»59 


i6o  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

come  to  pass.  September  is  not  a  good  month  in  which 
to  find  a  bear  of  any  species  on  those  summits;  nor  is  a 
short  hunting-trip  conducive  to  the  development  of  bear- 
episodes,  anywhere.  In  spite  of  Charlie's  hopefulness, 
I  did  not  take  the  prospect  seriously,  even  though  in  the 
Michel  store  Mack  had  called  for  twine  with  which  to 
stretch  bear-hides!  But  in  bear-hunting,  "  it  is  better  to 
be  born  lucky  than  rich." 

When  Charlie  came  in  on  the  evening  of  the  19th  of 
September  and  reported  a  bear  at  the  carcass  of  my  first 
goat,  it  really  seemed  time  to  hope  for  at  least  a  distant 
view  of  Old  Ephraim.  Believing  that  one  good  way  to 
reveal  certain  phases  of  wild-animal  life  is  in  showing 
how  animals  are  actually  found  in  their  haunts,  I  am 
tempted  to  set  forth  a  statement  of  the  events  of  Sep- 
tember 20th.  It  may  be  that  others  wonder,  as  I  often 
have,  just  how  it  feels  to  hunt  a  grizzly  bear, — the  most 
dangerous  American  animal — and  find  him,  at  timber- 
line.  The  really  bold  hunters  may  scofif  at  the  courage 
and  ferocity  of  the  grizzly  as  he  is  to-day;  but  Charlie 
Smith  openly  declares  that  the  one  particular  thing 
which  he  never  does,  and  never  will  do,  is  to  fire  his  last 
cartridge  when  away  from  camp. 

It  was  the  third  day  of  Mr.  Phillips's  hunt  for  moun- 
tain sheep,  and  he  was  still  absent.  Charlie  and  I  took 
two  saddle-horses  and  set  out  before  sunrise,  intending 
to  visit  all  the  goat  carcasses  before  returning.  We 
pushed  briskly  up  to  the  head  of  Avalanche  Creek, 
climbed  to  the  top  of  the  pass,  then  dropped  down  into 
the  basin  on  the  north.    I  dreaded  a  long  climb  on  foot 


MY    GRIZZLY-BEAR    DAY  i6i 

from  that  point  up  to  our  old  camp  on  Goat  Pass,  but 
was  happily  disappointed.  Thanks  to  the  good  engineer- 
ing of  some  Indian  trail-maker,  the  trail  led  from  the 
head  of  the  basin,  on  an  easy  gradient,  up  through  the 
green  timber  of  the  mountain  side,  quite  to  our  old  camp. 

We  found  fresh  grizzly-bear  tracks  within  fifty  feet 
of  the  ashes  of  our  camp-fire;  but  our  goat-skins  in  the 
big  spruce,  and  our  cache  of  provisions  near  it,  had  not 
been  touched.  It  was  here  that  we  saw  a  solitary  goat 
feeding  on  the  precipitous  slope  beneath  the  glacier  on 
Phillips  Peak,  as  noted  elsewhere.  And  here  we  were 
reminded  of  Mr.  Phillips's  uneasiness  about  the  dead 
trees  that  stood  near  our  tents,  and  which  he  had  feared 
might  blow  down  upon  us.  A  large  dead  tree  had  fallen 
upon  our  camp-ground,  squarely  across  the  green  bed  of 
spruce  boughs  on  which  Charlie  and  Mack  Norboe  had 
slept  four  nightsl  Had  it  fallen  upon  them  as  they 
slept,  both  would  have  been  instantly  killed. 

With  only  a  few  minutes  delay,  we  mounted  once 
more  and  rode  on  northward  toward  the  scene  of  the 
first  goat-kill.  As  we  rode  up  the  ridge  of  Bald  Moun- 
tain, a  biting  cold  wind,  blowing  sixty  miles  an  hour, 
struck  us  with  its  full  force.  It  went  through  our  cloth- 
ing like  cold  water,  and  penetrated  to  the  marrow  in  our 
bones.  At  one  point  it  seemed  determined  to  blow  the 
hair  off  Kaiser's  back.  While  struggling  to  hold  myself 
together,  I  saw  the  dog  suddenly  whirl  head  on  to  the 
fierce  blast,  crouch  low,  and  fiercely  grip  the  turf  with 
his  claws,  to  keep  from  being  blown  away.  It  was  all 
that  our  horses  could  do  to  hold  a  straight  course,  and 


1 62  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

keep  from  drifting  down  to  the  very  edge  of  the  preci- 
pice that  yawned  only  twenty-five  feet  to  leeward.  We 
were  glad  to  get  under  the  lee  of  Bald  Mountain,  where 
the  fierce  blast  that  concentrated  on  that  bleak  pass  could 
not  strike  us  with  its  full  force. 

At  last  we  reached  the  lake  we  named  in  honor  of 
Kaiser.  Dismounting  in  a  grassy  hollow  that  was  shel- 
tered from  the  wind,  we  quickly  stripped  the  saddles  from 
our  horses  and  picketed  the  animals  so  that  they  could 
graze.  Then,  catching  up  our  rifles,  cameras,  and  a  very 
slim  parcel  of  luncheon,  we  set  out  past  the  lake  for  the 
ridge  that  rises  beyond  it. 

The  timber  on  the  ridge  was  very  thin,  and  we  could 
see  through  it  for  a  hundred  yards  or  more.  As  we 
climbed,  we  looked  sharply  all  about,  for  it  seemed  very 
probable  that  a  grizzly  might  be  lying  beside  a  log  in 
the  fitful  sunshine  that  struck  the  southern  face  of  the 
hill.  Of  course,  as  prudent  hunters,  we  were  prepared 
to  see  a  grizzly  that  was  above  us,  and  big,  and  danger- 
ous,— three  conditions  that  guarantee  an  interesting  ses- 
sion whenever  they  come  together. 

Dog  Kaiser  was  peremptorily  ordered  to  follow  us, 
which  he  did  with  a  degree  of  intelligent  obedience  that 
would  have  shamed  many  a  man.  He  is  what  is  called 
a  "  slow  trailer,"  which  means  that  in  following  big  game 
he  either  keeps  close  behind  his  master,  or  else  goes 
ahead  so  slowly  that  it  is  possible  for  the  latter  to  keep 
up  with  him,  and  see  the  game  before  the  dog  disturbs  it. 

We  reached  the  crest  of  the  ridge,  without  having 
seen  a  bear,  and  with  the  utmost  caution  stalked  on  down 


MY    GRIZZLY-BEAR    DAY  163 

the  northern  side,  toward  the  spot  where  the  two  goat 
carcasses  lay  on  the  slide-rock.  The  noise  we  made  was 
reduced  to  an  irreducible  minimum. 

We  trod  and  straddled  like  men  burglarizing  Nat- 
ure's sky-parlor.  We  broke  no  dead  twigs,  we  scraped 
against  no  dead  branches,  we  slid  over  no  fallen  logs. 
Step  by  step  we  stole  down  the  hillside,  as  cautiously  as 
if  we  had  known  that  a  bear  was  really  at  the  foot  of  it. 
At  no  time  would  it  have  surprised  us  to  have  seen  Old 
Ephraim  spring  up  from  behind  a  bush  or  a  fallen  log, 
within  twenty  feet  of  us. 

At  last  the  gray  slide-rock  began  to  rise  into  view. 
At  last  we  paused,  breathing  softly  and  seldom,  behind 
a  little  clump  of  spruces.  Charlie,  who  was  a  step  in 
advance,  stretched  his  neck  to  its  limit,  and  looked  on 
beyond  the  edge  of  the  hill,  to  the  very  spot  where  lay 
the  remains  of  my  first  mountain  goat.  My  view  was 
cut  ofif  by  green  branches  and  Charlie. 

He  turned  to  me,  and  whispered  in  a  perfectly  color- 
less way, 

"  He's  lying  right  on  the  carcass! " 

"  What?  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  a  bear  is  really 
there}  ^^  I  asked,  in  astonishment. 

"Yes I  Stand  here,  and  you  can  see  him, — just  over 
the  edge." 

I  stepped  forward  and  looked.  Far  down,  fully 
one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  from  where  we  were, 
there  lay  a  silvery-gray  animal,  head  up,  front  paws  out- 
stretched. It  was  indeed  a  silver-tip;  but  it  looked 
awfully  small  and  far  away.     He  was  out  on  the  clean, 


i64  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

light-gray  stipple  of  slide-rock,  beside  the  scanty  remains 
of  my  goat. 

Even  as  I  took  my  first  look,  the  animal  rose  on  his 
haunches,  and  for  a  moment  looked  intently  toward  the 
north,  away  from  us.  The  wind  waved  his  long  hair, 
one  wave  after  another.  It  was  a  fine  chance  for  a  line 
shot  at  the  spinal  column;  and  at  once  I  made  ready 
to  fire. 

"  Do  you  think  you  can  kill  him  from  here}  "  asked 
Charlie,  anxiously.  "  You  can  get  nearer  to  him  if  you 
like." 

"Yes;  I  think  I  can  hit  him  from  here  all  right." 
(I  had  carefully  fixed  the  sights  of  my  rifle,  several  days 
previously.) 

"  Well,  if  you  don't  hit  him,  I'll  kick  you  down  this 
ridge!"  said  Charlie,  solemn  as  a  church  owl,  with  an 
on-your-head-be-it  air.  To  me,  it  was  clearly  a  moment 
of  great  peril. 

I  greatly  desired  to  watch  that  animal  for  half  an 
hour;  but  when  a  bear-hunter  finds  a  grizzly  bear,  the 
thing  for  him  to  do  is  to  kill  it  first,  and  watch  it  after- 
ward. I  realized  that  no  amount  of  bear  observations 
ever^ould  explain  to  John  Phillips  the  loss  of  that  bear. 

As  I  raised  my  .303  Savage,  the  grizzly  rose  in  a 
business-like  way,  and  started  to  walk  up  the  slide-rock, 
due  south,  and  a  little  quartering  from  us.  This  was  not 
half  so  good  for  me  as  when  he  was  sitting  down.  Aim- 
ing to  hit  his  heart  and  lungs,  close  behind  his  foreleg, 
and  allowing  a  foot  for  his  walking,  I  let  go. 

A  second  or  two  after  the  "  whang  "  the  bear  reared 


MY    GRIZZLY-BEAR    DAY  165 

slightly,  and  sharply  wheeled  toward  his  right,  away 
from  us;  and  just  then  Charlie's  rifle  roared, — close  be- 
side my  ear!  Without  losing  an  instant,  the  grizzly 
started  on  a  mad  gallop,  down  the  slide-rock  and  down 
the  canyon,  running  squarely  across  our  front. 

"  Heavens!  "  I  thought,  aghast.  "  Have  I  missed 
him?  " 

Quickly  I  threw  in  another  cartridge,  and  fired 
again ;  and  "  whang  "  went  Charlie,  as  before.  The  bear 
fairly  flew,  reaching  far  out  with  its  front  feet,  its  long 
hair  rolling  in  great  waves  from  head  to  tail.  Even  at 
that  distance,  its  silver-tipped  fur  proclaimed  the  species. 

Bushes  now  hid  my  view,  and  I  ran  down  a  few 
yards,  to  get  a  fair  show.  At  last  my  chance  came.  As 
the  bear  raced  across  an  opening  in  my  view,  I  aimed 
three  feet  ahead  of  his  nose,  and  fired  my  third  shot. 

Instantly  the  animal  pitched  forward  on  his  head, 
like  a  stricken  rabbit,  and  lay  very  still. 

"Ye  fetched  him  that  time!"  yelled  Charlie,  trium- 
phantly. "He's  down!  He's  down!  Go  for  him, 
Kaiser!    Go  for  him!  " 

The  dog  was  ready  to  burst  with  superheated  eager- 
ness. With  two  or  three  whining  yelps  he  dashed  away 
down  the  ridge,  and  out  of  sight.  By  this  time  Charlie 
was  well  below  me,  and  I  ran  down  to  where  he  stood, 
beaming  up. 

"  You've  fixed  him.  Director!    He's  down  for  keeps." 

"Where  is  he?" 

"  Lying  right  on  that  patch  of  yellow  grass,  and  dead 
as  a  wedge.    Shake!  " 


1 66  CAMP-FIRES  IN   THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

We  shook.  It  would  have  been  conceited  folly  to 
have  done  otherwise.  To  come  twelve  miles,  find  our 
long-lost  silver-tip,  and  down  him  by  eleven  o'clock, 
made  us  feel  that  we  were  each  of  us  entitled  to  a  few 
gloats  over  the  result. 

"Woo,  yow-yow!"  said  Kaiser  far  below, — about 
ten  seconds  after  he  had  disappeared;  and  there  he  was, 
looking  very  small,  and  joyously  biting  the  hams  of  the 
dead  grizzly.  Instead  of  sitting  astride  a  killed  animal, 
and  being  photographed  with  one  hand  upon  it,  Kaiser 
gloats  over  his  dead  game  by  biting  its  hams. 

As  quickly  as  possible,  we  descended  the  slope  and 
soon  stood  beside  the  dead  grizzly.  Then,  as  often  hap- 
pens, its  sex  changed  very  suddenly.  Every  grizzly  is  a 
"  he,"  until  shot!  This  one  was  a  fat  young  female,  not 
as  big  as  we  had  hoped,  but  in  beautiful  pelage  for  Sep- 
tember. In  remarking  upon  the  length  and  immaculate- 
ness  of  the  furry  coat,  which  still  waved  in  the  wind, 
Charlie  remarked,  that  at  this  season  the  female  grizzlies 
have  longer  hair  than  the  males.  I  was  sorry  we  could 
not  weigh  the  animal,  but  at  that  moment  my  scales  were 
twenty  miles  away,  with  the  sheep-hunters. 

The  next  thing  was  to  photograph  the  game;  and  in 
view  of  the  wild  and  romantic  scenery  that  hemmed  us 
in,  and  stretched  away  before  us,  plunging  down  Goat 
Creek,  I  sincerely  regretted  the  absence  of  Mr.  Phillips 
and  his  splendid  stereo  camera.  But  Charlie  Smith  had 
his  small  camera  and  four  "  fillims,"  and  surely  he  could 
do  something  to  save  the  situation.  In  these  kodak  days, 
a  grizzly-bear  hunter  might  as  well  return  without  the 


MY    GRIZZLY-BEAR    DAY  167 

hide  of  his  grizzly  as  without  a  photograph  of  the  dead 
animal. 

I  said  to  Charlie  that  we  must  take  the  case  seriously, 
and  do  our  best  as  long  as  the  films  held  out. 

Now,  on  the  trail  and  in  camp  the  writer  is  neither 
photographer  nor  cook.  He  has  troubles  enough  in  the 
departments  of  taxidermy  and  osteology.  This  time, 
however,  I  had  a  borrowed  pocket-kodak  and  three  rolls 
of  films,  but  no  skill  in  the  taking  of  pictures.  While 
I  knew  how  to  "  compose  "  a  picture,  I  knew  nothing 
about  time-exposures;  and  besides  this,  I  had  great  dif- 
ficulty in  finding  things  in  a  small  finder. 

But  that  bear  had  to  be  photographed,  and  we  went 
at  it  seriously.  Charlie  used  up  his  films,  and  then  I 
took  my  turn,  as  if,  like  Winkelreid,  on  my  sole  arm 
hung  victory. 

In  the  middle  distance,  behind  the  bear,  I  found  a 
very  tall,  columnar  spruce  that  rose  like  a  monument 
high  above  its  neighbors;  and  that  I  adopted  as  the 
key  to  the  situation.  I  photographed  with  bright  light, 
and  again  with  gray,  as  solemnly  as  if  valuable  results 
were  about  to  be  secured;  but  it  was  a  great  strain  on 
Faith. 

A  month  later,  when  Mr.  E.  F.  Keller  developed  my 
films,  and  sent  me  some  prints  from  them,  I  laughed 
long.  So  did  Mr.  Phillips  when  I  showed  him  one  of 
the  best  of  my  results.    Then  he  was  mystified. 

"  How  on  earth  did  a  photographic  incompetent  like 
you  ever  make  such  a  picture  as  that}  "  he  demanded. 

I   replied  that  in  photography  an   ideal  picture   is 


i68  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

solely  a  matter  of  technical  knowledge  and  artistic  skill! 
My  best  picture  is  reproduced  herewith. 

We  made  a  careful  autopsy  of  the  bear,  and  were 
able  to  determine  to  a  certainty  the  details  of  our  shoot- 
ing, and  its  results.  By  good  luck,  my  first  shot  went 
true  to  the  mark  aimed  for, — the  heart  region,  immedi- 
ately behind  the  foreleg.  But  it  did  not  go  through  the 
heart.  The  animal  was  quartering  to  me,  sufficiently 
that  my  ball  passed  close  behind  the  heart,  tore  the  lungs 
and  liver  to  bits,  and  passed  out  at  the  middle  of  the 
right  side,  low  down.  We  thrust  a  small  stick  through, 
in  the  track  of  the  ball,  and  left  it  there. 

Charlie  Smith  fired  as  the  bear  was  turning  to  the 
right.  His  bullet  entered  the  left  thigh,  tore  a  great  hole 
through  the  flesh  between  the  skin  and  the  femur,  passed 
through  the  entrails,  and  lodged  against  the  skin  of  the 
right  side,  well  back.  His  bullets  were  of  a  larger 
calibre  than  mine,  and  this  one  was  fully  identified. 
We  marked  the  course  of  that  bullet,  also,  with  a  stick. 
After  receiving  those  two  bullets,  the  bear  ran  as  if  un- 
harmed for  about  a  hundred  yards,  when  my  third  shot 
broke  its  neck,  and  brought  it  down  in  a  heap,  too  dead 
to  struggle.  It  was  not  touched  by  any  other  bullets 
than  the  three  described.  The  distance,  as  nearly  as  we 
could  estimate,  was  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards,  good 
measure. 

My  first  shot  was  of  course  absolutely  fatal,  and  had 
I  but  known  it,  I  need  not  have  fired  again.  It  was 
marvellous  that  the  animal  did  not  fall  at  the  first  fire, 
and  equally  so  that  with  its  lungs  torn  to  pieces,  it  was 


MY    GRIZZLY-BEAR    DAY  169 

able  to  run  a  hundred  yards  at  top  speed.  How  much 
farther  could  it  have  gone,  had  no  other  shots  been 
fired?  Not  far,  surely,  for  as  it  ran,  it  spattered  the 
clean  gray  rocks  with  an  awful  outpouring  of  blood. 

After  our  photographic  labors  we  ate  our  frugal 
luncheon,  rested,  then  skinned  the  bear.  That  accom- 
plished we  set  out  to  examine  the  work  done  by  our 
animal,  with  and  unto  the  carcasses  of  the  two  goats. 
The  result  proved  most  interesting. 

First  we  sought  the  carcass  of  Mr.  Phillips's  goat, 
which  was  rolled  over  the  cliflf,  and  fell  immediately 
above  the  spot  where  our  silver-tip  gave  up  her  ghost. 
On  seeking  it,  we  found  a  grizzly-bear's  cache  of  a  most 
elaborate  and  artistic  character.  On  the  steep  hillside  a 
shallow  hole  had  been  dug,  the  whole  carcass  rolled  into 
it,  and  then  upon  it  had  been  piled  nearly  a  wagon-load 
of  fresh  earth,  moss  and  green  plants  that  had  been  torn 
up  by  the  roots.  Over  the  highest  point  of  the  carcass 
the  mass  was  twenty-four  inches  deep.  On  the  ground 
the  cache  was  elliptical  in  shape,  about  seven  by  nine 
feet.  On  the  lower  side  it  was  four  feet  high,  and  on 
the  upper  side  two  feet.  The  pyramid  was  built  around 
two  small  larch  saplings,  as  if  to  secure  their  support. 

On  the  uphill  side  of  the  cache,  the  ground  was  torn 
up  in  a  space  shaped  like  a  half-moon,  twenty-eight  feet 
long  by  nineteen  feet  wide.  From  this  space  every  green 
thing  had  been  torn  up,  and  piled  on  the  pyramid.  The 
outer  surface  of  the  cone  was  a  mass  of  curly,  fibrous 
roots  and  fresh  earth. 

In  her  own  clumsy  way,  the  bear  had  done  her  best 


lyo  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

to  provide  for  a  rainy  day.  Her  labors  would  indeed 
have  protected  her  prize  from  the  eagles,  but  at  that  two 
feet  of  soft  stuff  a  wolverine  would  have  laughed  in 
ghoulish  glee  while  he  laid  bare  the  contents  of  that 
cache  with  about  six  rakes  of  his  rascally  paws. 

As  already  mentioned,  on  the  previous  day,  Charlie 
Smith  did  see  two  wolverines  in  the  vicinity  of  these 
goat  remains,  and  fired  at  one  of  them,  without  effect. 
Both  ran  away  across  the  slide-rock,  often  halting  and 
defiantly  looking  backward,  with  short,  stubby  tail-wisp 
held  stiffly  erect. 

The  bear  had  been  feeding  on  the  body  of  my  goat, 
which  lay  far  out  on  the  slide-rock,  and  she  had  eaten 
all  that  her  stomach  could  contain.  There  being  still  a 
good  quantity  of  pickings  remaining,  she  had  decided  to 
bury  it,  but  from  much  feeding  was  very  lazy  in  carry- 
ing out  this  intention.  She  had,  however,  torn  up  and 
carried  out  about  twenty  mouthfuls  of  moss,  earth  and 
plant-roots,  and  dropped  them,  together  with  half  a 
dozen  sticks,  upon  the  remains.  It  was  in  an  interval  of 
rest  from  this  arduous  labor  that  we  first  sighted  the  ani- 
mal; and  she  was  starting  up  to  fetch  down  more  mate- 
rial when  I  first  fired  at  her.  I  photographed  the  bear's 
cache,  but  on  the  films  the  cache  failed  to  appear. 

At  last  we  finished  our  work,  packed  the  bear-skin 
and  some  of  the  best  of  the  meat  upon  one  of  our  horses, 
and  started  for  camp,  riding  turn  about.  We  rolled  in 
just  before  sunset,  tired,  but  pufifed  up.  Mr.  Phillips 
was  there;  and  when  he  was  finally  convinced  that  we 
really  had  seen  a  silver-tip,  and  shot  at  it,  and  brought 


The  Scene  ot  Two  Actions — Goats  and  Grizzly 

Where  we  fired  from,  at  the  goats. 
What  Mr.   Phillips's  goat  did. 
What  the  author's  goat  did. 
Where  the  grizzly  was. 

5.  Where  we  were. 

6.  Where  the  grizzly  died. 
The  grizzly's  cache. 


MY    GRIZZLY-BEAR    DAY  171 

back  its  skin  and  skull,  his  surprise  and  delight  were  not 
to  be  restrained.  We  danced  around  the  camp-fire,  and 
"  Ki-yi-yied,"  in  a  wild-Indian  fashion  that  in  grown 
men  is  most  undignified  and  reprehensible,  anywhere 
east  of  the  Missouri  River. 

The  bear  was  not  our  only  cause  for  singing  a  war- 
song.  Mr.  Phillips  had  shot — but  why  spoil  a  good 
story? 


CHAPTER   XII 

NOTES  ON  THE  GRIZZLY  BEAR 

Rarity  of  the  Grizzly  in  the  United  States — Seasons — The  Grizzly 
Bear's  Calendar — Solitary  Habits — Food  of  Grizzlies — A  Carrion 
Feeder — Weight  of  Grizzlies — "  Grizzly"  or  "  Silver-Tip" — Re- 
strictions in  Killing. 

In  the  United  States,  outside  the  Yellowstone  Park 
and  the  Bitter  Root  Mountains,  grizzly  bears  are  now 
so  very  rare  that  it  is  almost  impossible  for  a  sportsman 
to  go  out  and  kill  one,  no  matter  where  he  hunts,  and  no 
matter  how  much  money  he  spends.  One  of  our  best- 
known  writers  on  hunting  matters,  who  has  hunted  in 
the  West  at  frequent  intervals  during  the  past  fifteen 
years,  recently  announced  that  he  has  now  given  up  all 
hope  of  killing  a  grizzly  in  our  own  country,  and  has 
turned  to  British  Columbia. 

In  British  Columbia  you  can  find  grizzlies,  provided 
you  know  when  to  go,  and  with  whom  to  go.  But  the 
autumn  is  not  the  best  season  for  finding  bears  in  that 
country.  If  you  would  see  the  wild  and  untamed  silver- 
tip,  in  the  high  altitudes,  go  in  the  spring,  for  that  is  the 
real  season  for  hunting  this  grand  species.  Even  then, 
you  may  hunt,  as  did  Mr.  Phillips's  brother  Robert,  "  for 
forty  days,  straight,"  without  a  sight  of  a  silver-tip,  or 
a  shot;  but  if  you  are  lucky,  you  may  bag  two  in  a  month. 

In  the  course  of  our  camp-fire  talk  about  bears  and 
other  animals,  we  had  a  symposium  on  the  habits  of  the 

I7X 


NOTES   ON    THE    GRIZZLY    BEAR        173 

grizzly  at  the  various  seasons  of  the  year.  To  this  all 
the  old  grizzly  hunters — Charlie  Smith,  Mr.  Phillips, 
and  the  two  Norboes, — contributed;  and  I  pieced  to- 
gether their  individual  statements,  and  made  up  this 

GRIZZLY  bear's  CALENDAR 

January. — About  January  20th  the  cubs  are  born,  in 
the  v^inter  den.  Usually  they  are  two  in  number,  crudely 
formed,  and  almost  hairless.  They  are  about  ten  inches 
long,  weigh  about  eighteen  ounces,  and  are  blind,  and 
extremely  helpless.  The  mother  coils  herself  around 
them,  moves  not  for  many  days,  and  the  helpless  little 
creatures  are  almost  as  much  enfolded  as  if  they  were 
in  an  abdominal  pouch.  In  the  New  York  Zoological 
Park  the  period  of  gestation  of  the  Colorado  grizzly  is 
two  hundred  and  sixty-six  days,  or  from  April  22d  to 
January  13th. 

May. — In  British  Columbia  a  few  grizzlies  come  out 
as  early  as  May  i,  but  the  majority  appear  about  the 
20th.  Their  first  spring  food  is  the  roots  of  the  snow- 
lily,  which  is  found  growing  on  the  snow  slides.  Be- 
sides this  the  grizzly  eats  other  plants,  of  a  dozen  or 
more  species,  and  also  grass  that  is  young  and  tender. 

As  soon  as  they  emerge  from  their  winter  den  they 
begin  to  rub  their  backs  against  trees,  to  scratch  them- 
selves, and  they  keep  it  up  until  the  old  hair  is  all  off. 
Shedding  begins  early  in  June,  and  lasts  until  August  i. 

June  and  July. — During  these  months  the  bears  range 
far  and  wide,  the  cubs  following  at  the  heels  of  the 
mother,  searching  for  edible  grubs  and  roots.     In  their 


174  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

search  for  edible  insects,  they  overturn  stones  and  tear 
old  logs  to  pieces.  Under  every  third  stone  (in  suitable 
situations),  a  nest  of  ants  is  found;  and  these  are  greatly 
relished.  To  a  bear,  those  sour  and  acidulous  insects  are 
much  the  same  as  pickles  are  to  the  human  palate.  The 
grizzly  hunts  up  and  devours  all  animals  killed  by  snow- 
slides.  Mr.  Phillips  once  knew  a  dead  pack-rat  to  be 
eaten.  In  the  Bush  River  country,  Charlie  Smith  saw 
the  remains  of  a  grizzly  that  had  been  killed  by  a  snow- 
slide,  and  afterward  had  been  dug  out  and  eaten  by  an- 
other grizzly! 

By  the  end  of  July  the  shedding  of  the  old  coat  of 
hair  is  completed,  and  the  silver-tip  stands  forth  clad  in 
a  glossy  new  suit  of  dark  brown,  several  shades  darker 
than  the  old  coat.  It  is  very  short,  however,  even  in 
comparison  with  the  September  coat. 

August. — In  the  valleys  of  the  large  rivers,  berries 
begin  to  ripen,  and  the  bears  at  once  begin  to  feed  upon 
them.  Naturally  the  berries  of  the  lowest  and  warmest 
valleys  are  the  first  to  mature;  and  as  the  season  advances, 
the  boundary-line  of  the  ripening  fruit  extends  higher 
and  higher  up  the  mountains.  In  the  highest  valleys  and 
mountains  the  berries  do  not  ripen  until  September,  just 
before  the  first  heavy  fall  of  snow.  Strawberries  come 
first,  but  they  are  so  thinly  scattered  the  total  amount  of 
food  they  furnish  is  small.  Next  comes  the  saskatoon, 
or  service-berry,  which  is  an  important  item  of  food,  and 
whenever  ripe  is  much  sought  by  bears.  They  last  so 
late  into  September  that  they  detain  the  bears  in  the 
valleys  of  the  large  rivers  when  otherv\dse  the  animals 


NOTES    ON    THE    GRIZZLY    BEAR        175 

would  go  up  into  the  mountains  to  feed  on  huckleberries, 
and  be  shot. 

September. — It  is  in  this  month  that  the  bears  take 
on  the  greatest  amount  of  fat,  for  winter  use.  By  Sep- 
tember 15  the  pelage  is  quite  long,  faultless  in  texture, 
and  very  richly  colored.  Of  the  five  species  of  huckle- 
berries and  blueberries  that  grow  in  the  mountains,  two 
are  large  and  fine,  and  furnish  an  excellent  supply  of 
bear  food.  This  is  the  month  of  bear  migration,  from 
the  lower  valleys  upward,  feeding  on  berries  all  the  way. 
The  earlier  the  coming  of  the  first  heavy  snowfall,  the 
earlier  the  migration.  When  the  bears  cannot  get  huc- 
kleberries, they  eat  black  currants,  but  not  with  great 
relish,  because  they  are  rather  bitter.  The  root  of  a 
''wild-pea  vine"  (Hedysarum)  is  eaten  with  great  rel- 
ish. It  tastes  precisely  like  green-pea  pods,  and  is  really 
very  palatable.  When  the  root  is  chewed,  its  residuum 
is  tough  and  woody,  but  the  outside  is  gelatinous,  like 
slippery-elm  bark. 

October. — After  the  berries  are  gone,  the  grizzlies  dig 
for  ''gophers"  [Citellus  columbianus),  and  for  Hedys- 
arum  roots,  until  the  ground  freezes  to  such  a  depth  that 
they  cannot  break  through  it.  When  digging  becomes 
impossible,  the  bears  seek  their  winter  dens,  and  hibernate. 

At  most  seasons  of  the  year  the  male  grizzly  bear  is 
a  solitary  creature.  As  a  rule,  the  only  individuals  found 
living  together  are  the  mother  and  cubs.  Occasionally 
it  happens  that  the  yearling  cubs  remain  with  their 
mother  for  some  months  after  the  birth  of  their  sue- 


176  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

cessors,  but  the  eighteen-months-old  cub  usually  is  found 
quite  alone. 

It  often  happens,  however,  that  in  the  height  of  the 
berry  season,  six  or  seven  bears  may  be  found  together 
in  the  same  berry-patch;  but  this  does  not  mean  that  all 
those  individuals  had  been  living  together.  Mr.  W.  H. 
Wright,  a  very  successful  bear-hunter,  once  killed  seven 
bears  in  one  day;  and  Prof.  L.  L.  Dyche  once  saw 
on  the  head  of  the  Pecos  River,  in  New  Mexico,  seven 
grizzlies  travelling  together.  But  such  occurrences  are 
very  rare  exceptions,  and  the  rule  is  exactly  the  reverse. 
Mr.  Phillips  once  found  two  sets  of  tracks  showing  how 
one  bear  had  chased  another  out  of  his  territory. 

Like  the  wolves  of  the  North-west,  the  grizzly  bears 
of  to-day  know  well  that  a  deadly  rifle  is  the  natural 
corollary  to  a  man.  Nine  grizzlies  out  of  every  ten  will 
run  the  moment  a  man  is  discovered,  no  matter  what  the 
distance  may  be  from  bear  to  man.  The  tenth  will 
charge  you,  fearlessly,  especially  if  you  make  your  attack 
from  below.  It  is  said  that  a  wounded  grizzly  always 
runs  down  hill;  and  this  may  account  for  some  charges 
toward  hunters  below,  which  might  not  have  taken  place 
had  the  hunter  been  ofif  to  one  side. 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  grizzly  feeds  ac- 
cording to  the  bill  of  fare  available  in  his  locality  at  a 
given  time.  In  some  localities  he  feeds  upon  salmon,  the 
bulbs  of  various  plants,  and  even  upon  grass;  but  wher- 
ever found,  he  is  fond  of  berries. 

He  is  not  a  proud  feeder.  He  turns  up  his  nose  at 
nothing  that  he  can  chew  and  assimilate,  except  skunks 


o 


NOTES   ON    THE    GRIZZLY    BEAR        177 

and  porcupines.  According  to  the  needs  of  the  hour,  he 
feeds  upon  the  best  or  the  worst.  Beyond  doubt,  he  pre- 
fers an  elk,  fat,  fresh  and  filling;  but  when  hunger  plucks 
vulture-like  at  his  vitals,  he  will  not  disdain  to  pick  a 
dead  and  bloated  pack-rat  out  of  a  snowslide  and  put 
it  where  he  thinks  it  will  do  the  most  good. 

The  carrion  state  does  not  bother  him  in  the  least,  if 
he  is  hungry.  Most  impartially  he  cleans  up  the  car- 
casses of  big  game  left  by  the  hunter.  He  has  been 
known  to  eat  the  flesh  of  his  own  kind,  which  surely  is 
in  very  bad  taste,  ethically,  but  otherwise  it  is  not  so  bad 
in  him  as  in  the  hunters  who  sometimes  devour  his  hams, 
regardless  of  their  origin. 

Occasionally  a  grizzly  will  feed  on  a  carcass  in  the 
daytime,  but  the  majority  wisely  defer  their  visits  until 
nightfall,  and  retire  before  dawn.  Many  a  hunter  has 
tried  to  kill  a  grizzly  over  the  remains  of  a  horse  spe- 
cially slaughtered  as  a  bait,  but  none  of  my  bear-hunting 
friends  ever  have  succeeded  in  killing  a  grizzly  by  that 
plan.  Usually  the  bear  comes  only  in  the  darkness,  or 
else  remains  away  altogether. 

I  believe  that  nearly  every  time  the  weight  of  a  griz- 
zly bear  is  estimated,  it  is  greatly  over-estimated.  The 
size  of  a  stretched  skin,  and  the  length  of  the  pelage  in 
the  winter  season,  always  suggests  an  animal  larger  and 
heavier  than  the  reality.  Trim  down  every  "  estimate  " 
fully  one-third,  and  you  will  have  something  near  the 
proper  figure.  In  bear-guessing  errors,  the  writer  is  no 
exception.  Bears  always  have  seemed  to  me  much  larger 
than  the  cold  and  unimaginative  scales  show  them  to  be. 


lyS   CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

Both  in  the  United  States  and  British  Columbia,  the 
grizzly  bears  of  to-day  are  not  extremely  large.  I  think 
the  bears  that  do  mature  are  killed  by  hunters  before 
they  have  lived  the  seven  years  that  are  necessary  to  the 
production  of  specimens  of  the  largest  size.  To-day, 
any  grizzly  that  will  weigh  seven  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds  may  fairly  be  called  a  very  large  one.  Those 
which  will  weigh  a  thousand  pounds  are  now  as  rare  as 
white  bufifaloes.  I  never  have  seen,  and  never  expect  to 
see,  a  one-thousand-pound  grizzly.  The  largest  indi- 
vidual that  I  ever  knew  to  be  weighed  was  one  that  died 
in  Lincoln  Park,  Chicago,  and  which  was  found,  by 
Mr.  G.  O.  Shields,  to  weigh  eleven  hundred  and  fifty- 
three  pounds.  By  old  hunters  it  was  "  estimated  "  at 
eighteen  hundred  pounds.  So  far  as  I  can  learn,  the 
Rocky  Mountains  have  not  produced  during  the  past  ten 
years  a  wild  grizzly  actually  weighing,  on  scales,  over 
seven  hundred  and  fifty  pounds.  The  great  majority  of 
the  largest  specimens  killed  and  weighed  during  the  last 
twenty  years  have  weighed  between  five  hundred  and  six 
hundred  pounds;  but  records  of  actual  weights,  on  scales, 
are  very,  very  rare. 

In  the  Zoological  Park  at  New  York,  we  have  had 
grizzly  bears  coming  from  Chihuahua,  Mexico,  from 
Colorado,  Wyoming  and  White  Horse,  Yukon  Terri- 
tory. Between  all  these  there  can  be  discerned  no  ex- 
ternal differences.  I  believe  they  all  belong  to  the  same 
species,  straight  Ursus  horribilis.  Just  where  the  griz- 
zlies of  the  far  north  are  met  by  the  Alaskan  brown 
bears,  no  one  is  as  yet  able  to  say.     Mr.  J.  W.  Tyrrell 


NOTES    ON    THE    GRIZZLY    BEAR        179 

found  the  Barren  Ground  grizzly  about  one  hundred 
miles  east  of  the  eastern  end  of  Great  Bear  Lake. 

There  has  been  much  talk  in  the  Colorado  mountains, 
and  in  a  few  other  localities,  about  the  "  silver-tip  "  and 
the  "  grizzly,"  and  several  times  I  have  been  asked  to 
state  the  characters  of  each.  Like  the  continuous  and 
ever-tiresome  "  ibex," — which  will  not  down, — there  is 
nothing  in  this  question.  A  "  silver-tip  "  is  a  Rocky 
Mountain  grizzly,  no  more,  no  less.  The  two  are  one 
and  indivisible,  but  the  coat  of  the  animal  varies  all  the 
way  from  the  gray-washed  "  bald-faced  "  grizzly  to  the 
darkest  of  the  dark-brown  individuals,  which  in  Novem- 
ber are  sometimes  of  a  dark  chocolate-brown  color. 

I  have  tried  in  vain  to  find  constant  characters  in  the 
claws  of  grizzly  bears,  but  each  time  I  have  concluded 
that  I  had  found  out  something  that  was  constant,  im- 
mediately the  old  material  has  been  discredited  by  new, 
and  I  now  am  as  far  as  ever  from  a  permanent  conclu- 
sion. Some  grizzlies  have  very  long  claws,  that  are 
strongly  curved,  and  again  others  have  claws  that  are 
rather  short  and  blunt.  They  vary  greatly,  according  to 
conditions,  and  the  uses  to  which  they  have  been  put. 

To-day  there  is  in  the  United  States  only  one  locality 
wherein  wild  grizzlies  exist  in  any  number,  and  that  is 
the  remote  fastnesses  of  the  Bitter  Root  Mountains  of 
Idaho,  known  as  the  Clearwater  country.  Mr.  W.  H. 
Wright  knows  where  there  are  bears,  but  the  mountains 
are  so  steep,  and  the  brush  so  thick,  it  is  not  every  sports- 
man who  can  get  a  shot,  even  when  grizzlies  are  seen. 
Of  course  every  one  knows  of  the  tame  grizzlies  of  the 


i8o  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

Yellowstone  Park,  and  the  very  few  wild  ones  immedi- 
ately around  that  reservation. 

For  several  reasons,  I  am  totally  opposed  to  the  trap- 
ping of  grizzlies  for  their  skins,  to  poisoning  them,  and 
to  permitting  any  hunter  to  kill  more  than  one  grizzly 
per  year.  In  other  words,  I  think  the  time  has  come  to 
protect  this  animal,  at  least  everywhere  south  of  lati- 
tude 54°.  As  a  state  asset,  every  live,  wild  grizzly  of 
adult  size  is  worth  from  $300  to  $500,  and  as  a  hunter's 
grand  object,  it  is  worth  much  more.  The  trapping 
and  poisoning  of  this  noble  animal  should  be  prohibited, 
at  once,  throughout  the  whole  United  States  and  south- 
ern British  Columbia;  and  this  prohibition  should  stand 
forever.  It  is  folly  for  Idaho,  Colorado,  Wyoming  or 
New  Mexico,  to  permit  the  killing  of  a  five-hundred- 
dollar  silver-tip  for  a  twenty-dollar  skin;  and  every 
guide  should  know  this  without  being  told.  Moreover, 
the  slaughter  of  half  a  dozen  grizzlies  by  one  man  in  a 
single  season  is  far  worse  for  the  big-game  interests  of 
America  than  the  killing  of  that  number  of  bull  elk. 

Eliminate  the  bears  from  the  Canadian  Rockies,  and 
a  considerable  percentage  of  the  romance  and  wild 
charm  which  now  surrounds  them  like  a  halo,  will  be 
gone.  So  long  as  grizzlies  remain  to  make  awesome 
tracks  and  dig  "  gophers,"  just  so  long  will  brain-weary 
men  take  the  long  trail  to  find  them,  climb  mountains 
until  they  are  half-dead  of  precious  physical  fatigue,  and 
whether  they  kill  grizzlies  or  not,  they  will  return  like 
new  men,  vowing  that  they  have  had  the  grandest  of  all 
outings. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

PHOTOGRAPHING  A  MOUNTAIN   GOAT  AT  SIX  FEET 

Wild-Animal  Photography — A  Subject  on  the  Crags — At  the  Head  of 
the  Grand  Slide — The  Billy  Goat  at  Bay — Exposures  at  Six  Feet 
— The  Glaring  Eyes  of  the  Camera  Stops  a  Charge — At  Last 
the  Subject  Stands  Calmly  and  looks  Pleasant — In  Peril  from  a 
"  Dead  "  Knee — A  Sleepless  Night  from  the  Perils  of  the  Day. 

At  last  the  camera  has  fully  and  fairly  captured  the 
elusive,  crag-defying  Rocky  Mountain  goat.  Oreamnos 
has  stood  for  his  picture,  at  short  range,  looking  pleasant 
and  otherwise,  and  the  pictures  call  for  neither  an  "  if  " 
nor  an  apology.  They  are  all  that  the  most  ambitious 
wild-animal  photographer  could  reasonably  desire. 

In  photographing  rare  wild  animals  in  their  haunts, 
the  camera  always  begins  at  long  range  and  reduces  the 
focal  distance  by  slow,  and  sometimes  painful  degrees. 
To  the  difficulties  always  present  in  photographing  a 
large  wild  animal  in  its  haunts  must  be  added  the  dan- 
gerous crag-climbing  necessary  in  securing  fine  pictures 
of  the  mountain  goat. 

So  far  as  I  know,  the  first  photographs  ever  made 
of  Oreamnos  in  his  native  haunts  were  taken  by  the  late 
E.  A.  Stanfield,  on  the  rock  walls  of  the  Stickine  River, 
northern  British  Columbia,  in  1898,  not  far  from  where 
he  afterward  lost  his  life  in  that  dangerous  stream.  This 
was  a  single  negative  showing  two  goats  in  the  middle 
distance,  and  three  others,  far  away,  sticking  against  the 


1 82  CAMP-FIRES    IN   THE    CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

side  of  what  appeared  to  be  a  perfectly  smooth  wall  of 
rock  several  hundred  feet  high. 

After  that  came  three  or  four  pictures  of  goats  taken 
in  timber,  on  level  ground,  and  amid  surroundings  that 
seemed  more  suitable  for  white-tailed  deer  than  crag- 
climbing  goats.  The  distance  was  so  great  that  it  was 
only  when  the  negatives  were  much  enlarged  that  the 
goats  became  interesting. 

On  both  sides  of  our  ideally  beautiful  camp  in  the 
head  of  Avalanche  Valley,  the  mountains  rose  steeply 
and  far.  First  came  the  roof  slopes,  a  mile  from  bottom 
to  top,  their  faces  seamed  with  parallel  "  slides  "  and 
ribbed  with  the  ridges  of  rock  and  points  of  moss-green 
timber  that  climbed  up  between  them.  Above  all  that 
rose  the  long  stretches  of  crag  and  rock  wall,  crowned 
by  peak,  "  dome,"  and  "  saddle." 

From  bottom  to  top  we  scanned  the  slide-ways  for 
grizzly  bears  feeding  on  berries,  or  digging  roots.  We 
watched  the  grassy  belt  just  below  the  cliff-foot  for 
mountain  sheep.  Goats  we  saw  up  there,  daily,  in  little 
groups  of  three  to  five;  but  we  had  resolutely  drawn  our 
firing-line  at  three  goats  each. 

But  there  was  one  old  billy  who  fascinated  us  all. 
When  we  looked  out  of  our  tents  on  our  first  morning 
in  that  camp,  he  was  calmly  lying  upon  a  ledge  at  the  foot 
of  the  cliff  immediately  above  us,  near  a  bank  of  per- 
petual snow.  For  two  days  he  remained  there,  at  the 
same  elevation,  moving  neither  north  nor  south  more 
than  three  hundred  yards.  When  hungry,  he  came 
down  to  the  foot  of  the  cliff  and  fed  on  the  tender  plants 


The   Haunt   of  the   Camera   Goat 


The  goat  was  photographed  on   the  steep  rocks  shown   on   the  left,   at  the  point  indicated. 
Taken  at  a  distance  of  two  miles  across  Avalanche  Valley. 


PHOTOGRAPHING   A    MOUNTAIN    GOAT    183 

that  grew  at  timber-line,  then  climbed  back  to  his  favor- 
ite contour  line,  to  lie  and  doze  away  the  hours. 

That  goat  seemed  so  sociable  that  finally  we  began 
to  regard  him  as  one  of  us,  and  we  scrutinized  him  and 
apostrophized  him  to  our  heart's  content.  On  the  fourth 
morning,  the  beautifully  clear  sky  and  faultless  atmos- 
phere revealed  a  rare  opportunity.  While  the  cook  was 
putting  the  finishing  touches  to  an  inspiring  breakfast 
of  fried  mule-deer  steaks  and  other  luxuries,  those  of 
us  who  had  most  quickly  succeeded  in  finding  the  clean 
spots  on  the  camp  towels  took  our  usual  early-morning 
gaze  at  "  that  old  goat."  (Ye  gods!  How  glorious  was 
the  crisp  air,  the  spruce-woods  odor,  the  crackle  and 
snap  of  the  camp-fire,  and  the  golden  glow  of  sunrise  on 
the  western  peaks  and  precipices!  That  was  life, — with- 
out a  flaw.) 

As  we  gathered  around  our  standing-lunch  breakfast 
table,  I  remarked  to  Mr.  Phillips  that  it  would  be  a 
glorious  feat  to  secure  some  really  fine  photographs  of 
that  billy  goat  in  his  natural  environment.  Turning  to 
his  side  partner,  Mr.  Phillips  said  very  positively, 

"  Mack,  it  is  up  to  the  unscientific  section  to  get  those 
pictures!  " 

"  I  dunno  about  them  environments,"  answered  Mack 
slowly,  while  he  steered  a  long  line  of  condensed  cream 
into  his  cofifee-cup,  "  but  we  can  shore  git  a  boxful  of 
scenery  up  thar.  We  never  yet  shot  a  full-grown  billy 
with  a  camery;  and  they're  mighty  onsartin  critters.  If 
we  corral  him  too  close,  he'll  like  as  not  go  vicious,  and 
knock  us  clean  off  the  mountain." 


1 84  CAMP-FIRES    IN    THE    CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

We  soon  saw  that  an  attempt  would  be  made  to  round 
up  that  goat  somewhere,  somehow,  and  take  a  picture 
of  him  at  short  range.  In  a  few  minutes  we  invented 
a  wigwag  code  of  signals  by  which  the  cook  was  to 
signal  at  intervals,  with  a  clean  towel  on  the  end  of  a 
fossil  tepee-pole,  the  position  of  the  goat.  Mr.  Phillips 
and  Mack  Norboe  made  ready  for  the  event,  and  with 
Kaiser  to  assist  in  manipulating  the  goat,  presently 
set  out. 

Mr.  Phillips  dislikes  writing  about  his  adventures, 
but  in  view  of  the  fact  that  he  alone  is  able  to  relate  the 
occurrences  of  that  day,  I  prevailed  upon  him  to  write 
out  the  following  account  of  that  daring  and  dangerous 
episode.  Had  I  known  on  that  morning  the  risks  that 
he  would  run  on  those  cliffs,  hanging  by  one  hand  on  a 
knife-edge  of  rotten  rock  with  an  angry  goat  at  a  near- 
ness of  six  feet  and  threatening  to  knock  him  off  into  mid- 
air, I  would  not  for  any  number  of  photographs  have 
encouraged  the  enterprise.  It  was  only  the  merciful 
Providence  which  sometimes  guards  insane  camera 
enthusiasts  which  prevented  a  frightful  tragedy;  for  it 
is  well  known  throughout  the  goat  country  that  an  old 
male  goat  cornered  on  a  ledge  will  fight  dog  or  man. 

In  order  to  assist  the  photographers  to  the  utmost, 
Charlie  Smith  and  I  considerately  went  bear-hunting; 
and  this  is  Mr.  Phillips's  account  of  how  the  goat  pictures 
were  obtained: 

"  Shortly  after  twelve  o'clock.  Mack  and  I  started  for 
the  goat  that  had  been  hanging  out  above  our  camp.  We 
took  my  stereoscopic  camera,  Charlie  Smith's  four-by-five 


PHOTOGRAPHING   A    MOUNTAIN   GOAT   185 

camera,  the  dog,  and  my  big  gun  in  order  to  kill  the  goat 
if  he  attacked  me. 

"  After  crossing  the  narrow  flat  of  Avalanche  Creek, 
we  struck  up  the  long,  grassy  slide  directly  opposite  our 
camp.  At  first  its  slope  was  about  twenty  degrees,  but 
this  gradually  increased  until  finally,  where  it  struck  the 
slide-rock,  it  almost  stood  on  end.  We  reached  the  slide- 
rock  about  2  P.M.,  after  which  the  going  was  harder  than 
ever.  Gradually  we  worked  our  way  out  of  the  slide  on 
to  a  high,  rocky  point  which  rose  toward  the  south. 

"  Although  lightly  clad,  we  were  by  that  time  very 
warm.  I  had  taken  off  my  hunting  shirt,  and  hung  it  upon 
my  back,  and  opened  the  sides  of  my  knickerbockers. 
Inside  and  out,  we  needed  all  the  air  we  could  get.  I 
wore  that  day  a  pair  of  light  golf  shoes  with  rubber  soles, 
tipped  at  the  toes  and  heels  with  leather  in  which  were 
fixed  some  small  steel  nails.  These  soles  were  very  flex- 
ible, and  adjusted  themselves  so  well  to  the  inequalities  of 
the  rocks  that  I  could  jump,  and  stick  where  I  lit.  Mack 
said:  'With  them  foot-riggin's,  you  shore  kin  go  whar 
a  bar  kin! '  Mack  was  not  so  well  equipped  as  to  foot- 
gear, having  on  an  old  pair  of  shoes  with  turned-up  toes, 
set  with  nails  that  were  much  worn.  This  handicapped 
him  on  the  bare  rocks. 

"  '  It's  about  time  Cookie  wiggled  that  rag,  to  show 
us  whar  that  goat  is,'  said  Mack  as  we  seated  ourselves 
to  rest,  and  took  out  our  glasses. 

"  Sure  enough.  In  a  few  minutes  we  saw  Huddleston 
out  on  the  green  flat  in  front  of  the  tents,  waving  vigor- 
ously; and  from  his  signals  we  knew  that  the  goat  was 


i86  CAMP-FIRES    IN    THE    CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

still  there,  toward  the  south,  and  above  us.  We  decided 
that  the  Director's  semaphore  system  was  a  good  thing. 

"  We  knew  that  our  best  chance  for  success  lay  in 
getting  above  the  goat,  to  prevent  his  escape  to  the  peaks, 
then  in  cornering  him,  somewhere.  After  a  long  diag- 
onal climb  we  found  ourselves  under  the  wall  of  the 
snow-capped  mountain,  which  rose  sheer  up  two  hundred 
feet  or  more,  then  rounded  ofif  into  a  dome  going  about 
three  hundred  feet  higher.  Now,  just  here  we  found 
a  very  strange  feature  of  mountain  work.  A  great  rock 
buttress  stretched  along  the  foot  of  the  mountain  wall, 
originally  continuous,  and  several  hundred  feet  long. 
But  somehow  a  big  section  had  been  riven  out  of  the  mid- 
dle of  that  ridge,  going  quite  down  to  the  general  face 
of  that  mountain-side,  like  a  railway  cut  standing  almost 
on  end.  This  central  cut-out  section  is  now  the  head 
of  a  big  slide,  five  hundred  feet  wide  at  the  cliflf,  from 
which  it  descends  at  a  fearful  pitch. 

"  This  slide  is  now  bounded  at  the  top  by  two  ridges 
of  rock,  each  with  a  steep  wall  facing  the  gap.  The 
space  lying  between  these  walls  is  filled  with  masses  of 
frost-riven  rock,  from  the  peak  above,  varying  in  size 
from  dust  to  rocks  the  size  of  a  freight  car.  The  weight 
and  momentum  of  the  larger  rocks  had  carried  them  well 
down  the  mountain,  and  some  of  them  were  so  evenly 
balanced  that  it  seemed  as  if  a  touch  would  be  sufficient 
to  send  them  thundering  on. 

"We  stood  on  the  top  of  the  northern  ridge, close  under 
the  foot  of  the  cliff,  and  looked  down  the  rock  wall  which 
dropped   almost   perpendicularly   to    the   slide-way   far 


The   Face   ot   the   Precipice   from   Below,    with   Goat   in  situ 


PHOTOGRAPHING   A    MOUNTAIN    GOAT   187 

below.  On  the  south  side  of  the  slide  rose  a  ridge  very 
similar  to  the  one  on  which  we  stood. 

"  From  the  signals  Huddleston  made  at  that  time, 
we  knew  that  the  goat  was  below  us.  '  Thar  he  is,  now! ' 
exclaimed  Mack,  pointing  down  our  ridge,  and  looking 
as  he  pointed  I  saw  the  animal  about  one  hundred  and 
fifty  yards  below  us  on  a  point  of  rock  overhanging  the 
slide.  He  was  staring  down  toward  our  camp,  as  if  he 
saw  Huddleston  and  his  signals,  but  I  doubt  if  he  did 
see  our  cook,  for  without  glasses  the  distance  was  too 
great. 

"  Up  to  that  moment,  our  dog  Kaiser  had  been  obe- 
diently following  at  our  heels.  Then  we  showed  him  the 
goat,  and  explained  to  him  what  we  desired.  He  seemed 
to  quite  understand  what  we  wished  him  to  do.  Leaving 
us  at  once,  he  silently  worked  his  way  down  over  the 
rocks,  and  in  three  or  four  minutes  jumped  the  goat. 
And  then  pandemonium  broke  loose.  Kaiser  barked  ex- 
citedly, Mack  rolled  stones,  and  I  yelled. 

"  The  goat  was  very  much  surprised  by  all  this  noise, 
and  the  sudden  assault  of  the  dog.  Seeing  that  his  retreat 
to  the  upper  sanctuary  of  the  cliffs  was  effectually  cut 
off,  he  bounded  like  a  great  ball  of  cotton  down  the 
almost  perpendicular  wall  of  the  cliff,  into  the  slide-way 
two  hundred  feet  below.  To  get  down  safely  after  his 
game.  Kaiser  had  to  hunt  for  stairs,  and  before  he  reached 
the  bottom  the  goat  was  well  across  the  slide. 

"  In  the  meantime  I  had  scrambled  down  the  rocks 
into  the  head  of  the  slide,  and  found  that  although  it 
pitched  at  a  frightful  angle,  I  could  get  footing  close 


1 88  CAMP-FIRES    IN   THE    CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

under  the  sheer  mountain  wall,  so  I  ran  and  scrambled 
across,  jumping  over  some  waterworn  fissures.  When  I 
reached  the  opposite  wall,  I  saw  the  goat  below  me  com- 
ing up  the  ridge.  Owing  to  the  shape  of  the  slide,  I  had 
travelled  only  one-third  the  distance  covered  by  the  goat. 

"  Seeing  me  above  him,  the  goat  thought  he  was 
again  cut  off  from  the  mountain,  and  so  sougl  .  safety 
on  the  face  of  the  wall  that  overhung  the  slide.  He  did 
not  realize  that  he  could  easily  have  passed  me  by  going 
up  the  ridge  before  I  could  head  him  off. 

"  Seeing  that  the  goat  was  safe  for  the  moment,  I 
thought  of  Mack,  and  fearing  that  he  had  fallen,  went 
back.  I  found  him  at  the  bottom  of  one  of  the  water- 
worn  fissures.  It  was  too  wide  for  him  to  jump,  so  he 
had  gone  down  into  the  rock  crevasse,  and  when  I  found 
him  he  was  on  his  hands  and  knees;  and  no  wonder. 
The  bottom  was  worn  quite  smooth,  and  pitched  down 
at  an  angle  of  about  sixty  degrees.  When  he  heard  me 
he  looked  up,  and  said:  'I  wisht  I  had  some  of  the 
legs  them  octopuses  had  that  the  Professor  was  tellin' 
us  about!    I'd  shore  rope  myself  over  this  ditch!' 

"  When  finally  Mack  crawled  out  of  his  trouble,  we 
went  over  and  looked  at  the  goat.  I  took  a  picture  of 
him  from  the  slide,  then  leaving  Mack  in  the  slide  with 
my  gun,  I  worked  my  way  with  the  cameras  out  up  on 
the  ridge,  and  finally  secured  a  position  above  the  goat. 

"  I  found  him  standing  on  a  ledge  about  eighteen 
inches  wide,  backed  against  a  slight  projection  on  the 
face  of  the  cliff,  which  cut  the  ledge  off.  The  ledge 
rose  at  rather  a  steep  incline  for  about  twenty  feet  up  to 


Copyriglit,    1905.   by  Juhn   ^r.    Phillips. 

The   Goat   on   the   Stratified    Rock 

Looking  toward   Avalanche  Creek. 


PHOTOGRAPHING   A    MOUNTAIN   GOAT  189 

the  level  on  which  I  stood.  The  goat  was  about  eight  feet 
below  me,  while  below  him  was  a  sheer  drop  of  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  feet  or  more,  down  to  the  slide-rock. 

"  He  was  a  very  large  goat,  weighing,  I  should  say, 
fully  three  hundred  pounds.  He  had  a  magnificent  pair 
of  horns,  fully  ten  inches  long.  I  was  surprised  to  note 
that  he  did  not  show  the  least  sign  of  panic,  or  even  fear. 
He  looked  up  at  me  quite  calmly,  and  then,  ignoring  me 
entirely,  solemnly  and  serenely  gazed  out  over  the  crags 
below. 

"  After  a  few  trials  from  above  I  found  it  impossible 
to  get  a  good  picture  of  him  without  getting  much 
nearer;  so  I  yelled  down  to  Mack:  *  I'm  going  down  to 
him.    If  he  charges  me,  you  must  kill  him,  in  a  hurry.' 

"  Setting  the  focus  of  my  stereo  camera  for  six  feet, 
and  placing  the  bulb  in  my  mouth,  I  gradually  worked 
my  way  down  the  ledge,  carrying  my  camera  in  one  hand 
and  holding  to  the  wall  with  the  other.  When  I  was 
within  about  twelve  feet  of  him.  Mack  yelled  to  me : 

"  '  Look  out  tharl  He's  a-raisin'  his  tail,  like  a  buf- 
falo bull!     He's  goin'  to  knock  you  off!' 

"  Mack  was  raised  in  Texas,  with  the  buffalo,  and 
diagnosed  the  case  correctly.  The  very  next  instant,  so 
it  seemed  to  me,  the  goat  came  at  me,  head  and  tail  up, 
ears  drooped  forward  and  eyes  blazing  green.  He  came 
with  a  bouncing  rush,  hammering  the  stones  with  his 
front  feet  so  that  the  loose  ones  flew  like  broken  ice.  I 
was  taken  completely  by  surprise,  for  I  did  not  think 
that  on  a  ledge  so  narrow  an  animal  could  or  would 
charge  me. 


1 90  CAMP-FIRES    IN    THE    CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

"  I  was  perfectly  helpless,  for  I  could  not  step  aside, 
and  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  back  quickly  up  that 
steep  and  narrow  shelf.  The  goat  was  too  quick  for 
Mack,  for  I  heard  him  yell,  in  great  alarm,  '  I  can't 
shoot,  or  I'll  hit  ye  both!' 

"  Mack  told  me  afterward  that  he  dared  not  shoot 
from  where  he  was,  for  fear  the  heavy  ball  would  go 
through  the  goat,  glance  against  the  rock,  and  either  kill 
me  or  throw  me  ofif  the  ledge.  I  was  terribly  frightened, 
but  mechanically  snapped  the  camera  when  the  goat  was 
about  six  feet  away.  There  was  really  nothing  that  I 
could  do  except  to  hold  the  camera  at  him,  and  snap  it. 

"  He  charged  up  to  within  a  yard  of  me,  but  with 
his  eyes  fixed  on  the  two  lenses.  Then  he  appeared  to 
conclude  that  any  animal  that  could  stand  that  much 
without  winking  was  too  much  for  him,  so  shaking  his 
head  and  gritting  his  teeth  he  stopped,  and  to  my  great 
relief  slowly  backed  into  his  niche. 

"  Believing  that  he  would  not  charge  the  camera,  I 
followed  him  down,  and  secured  a  picture  of  him  at  six 
feet.  Then  Mack  began  to  see  more  symptoms  of  trou- 
ble, and  since  I  had  exposed  my  last  film  I  backed  out. 
Then  I  remembered  the  four-by-five  camera,  and  started 
down  with  it,  but  Mack  yelled  angrily: 

"'Hold  on  there!  That  goat's  plumb  dangerous, 
and  if  you  start  down  there  again,  I'll  shorely  kill  him! 
What's  the  use  o'  bein'  locoed  an'  gettin'  killed  fer  a 
few  picters? ' 

"  Mack  was  so  wrought  up  that  to  save  the  goat 
I  abandoned  my  intention;  and  when  he  finally  joined 


PHOTOGRAPHING   A    MOUNTAIN    GOAT   191 

me,  we  slipped  another  roll  of  films  into  the  stereo 
camera. 

"  Just  as  we  finished  our  reloading  operation,  Kaiser 
took  a  look  down  at  the  goat,  at  very  close  range,  when 
all  of  a  sudden,  like  a  Jack-in-the-box,  the  old  billy  was 
up  from  the  ledge  and  after  him.  Kaiser  ran  to  us 
for  protection,  the  goat  charging  after  him,  most  deter- 
minedly. Mack  and  I  yelled,  and  waved  our  arms,  and 
finally  turned  the  goat  down  over  the  point,  this  time 
with  Kaiser  chasing  him. 

"  They  were  soon  out  of  our  sight,  but  we  could  hear 
the  rocks  rolling  below,  and  knew  that  they  were  going 
back  across  the  slide.  So  we  slid  off  the  crags  into  the 
head  of  the  slide,  and  running  across  at  some  risk  to  our 
necks,  finally  turned  the  goat  on  to  a  small  pinnacle, 
about  where  we  first  jumped  him. 

"  It  was  here  that  I  secured  some  of  my  best  pictures. 
Mack,  perched  on  the  top  of  the  crag,  attracted  the  goat's 
attention  and  tantalized  him  by  waving  his  hat,  while 
I  made  pictures  as  fast  as  possible.  We  had  to  keep 
Kaiser  in  the  background,  for  apparently  the  goat  blamed 
him  for  all  his  troubles,  and  I  believe  Billy  was  mad 
enough  at  that  time  to  charge  the  dog  through  fire. 

"  My  footing  was  very  insecure,  and  being  obliged  to 
hold  on  with  one  hand  and  watch  the  goat  in  fear  that 
he  would  charge  me,  I  could  not  use  the  finder  of  my 
camera.  Once  as  the  goat  charged  up  the  rock  at  Mack 
I  got  in  close  to  him,  when  he  suddenly  turned  on  me, 
gritting  his  teeth  as  he  did  so.  His  lip  protruded  like 
the  lower  lip  of  a  charging  bear,  and  with  his  front  feet 


192   CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

he  stamped  on  the  rocks  until  the  small,  loose  fragments 
flew  in  every  direction. 

"  It  was  just  then  that  I  got  my  best  snapshot  from  in 
front,  although  the  picture  fails  to  show  his  ugly  temper 
as  I  saw  it.  As  I  rolled  in  another  film  he  charged  me. 
Unfortunately  I  was  so  scared  that  I  did  not  have  pres- 
ence of  mind  to  press  the  bulb  at  the  right  distance.  He 
bounced  up  to  within  four  feet  of  me,  when  again  the 
two  big,  glaring  eyes  of  the  camera  fascinated  and 
checked  him.  Just  as  he  turned  his  head  from  the  un- 
winking eyes  of  my  stereo,  I  snapped  it,  but  he  was  inside 
the  focus. 

**  At  that  instant  Kaiser,  who  had  escaped  from 
Mack's  surveillance,  appeared  below  me,  and  the  goat 
immediately  charged  down  upon  him.  Kaiser  cleverly 
eluded  him,  and  then  the  goat  went  on  down  into  the 
slide,  running  diagonally  across  it  to  a  rocky  point 
beyond,  where  we  again  rounded  him  up.  And  then  I 
discovered  that  my  stereo  camera  was  out  of  films! 

''  Regardless  of  the  severity  of  the  climb  down  to 
camp  and  back  again,  Mack  insisted  upon  making  the 
trip  and  bringing  me  more  films,  and  immediately 
started. 

"  It  was  my  duty  to  hold  the  goat  at  bay  as  best  I  could 
during  the  two  hours'  interval  that  I  knew  must  elapse. 
The  animal  was  then  standing  on  the  side  of  what  seemed 
to  me  a  sheer  cliff,  and  when  I  slowly  climbed  down  to 
look  at  him,  he  quite  ignored  me.  Finding  a  sheltered 
niche  in  the  cliff  a  hundred  feet  above  him,  I  donned 
my  hunting  shirt  and  sat  down  to  watch  and  wait. 


Copyright,  1^405,  by  J.jhn   M,   Phillips. 

An   Angry   Mountain    Goat   at   Close   Quarters 

Distance  four  feet  ;  inside  the  fdcus.      After  cha-ging  so  near  he  concluded  to  halt  and  back  up  to  his  first  positi. 


PHOTOGRAPHING   A    MOUNTAIN    GOAT  193 

"  It  was  then  about  3  P.M.,  and  there  followed  a  long, 
cold  interval.  Once  Kaiser  created  a  diversion  by  zig- 
zaging  down  and  taking  another  peep  at  his  enemy,  who 
immediately  scrambled  up  the  rocks  at  him,  as  fast  as  he 
could  come.  Kaiser  retreated  in  good  order,  but  soon 
turned  and  barked  defiantly  at  the  goat.  After  this 
futile  charge,  the  goat  backed  away  until  his  hindquarters 
hung  over  the  clifif;  then  he  charged  a  second  time. 
Apparently  he  was  determined  to  kill  the  dog,  and  rushed 
after  him  again  and  again.  The  goat  would  raise  his 
tail,  throw  his  ears  forward,  and  without  lowering  his 
head  go  bounding  stiff-legged  after  the  dog  like  a  buck- 
ing broncho.  At  times  it  seemed  as  if  his  object  was  to 
trample  the  dog  rather  than  horn  him,  but  Kaiser  was 
quick  enough,  and  easily  dodged  his  rushes.  Then  the 
old  goat  would  stand  and  glare  at  him,  gritting  his  teeth 
and  sometimes  sticking  his  tongue  out,  the  personifica- 
tion of  anger.  It  was  a  most  interesting  performance, 
and  in  spite  of  being  very  cold  I  was  fascinated  by  it. 

"  About  six  o'clock  I  heard  rocks  rolling  in  the  slide 
far  below  me,  and  knew  that  Mack  was  coming.  Then 
I  decided  to  get  a  better  view  of  the  trouble  between  the 
goat  and  the  dog,  and  crawled  down  to  the  point  on 
which  the  fight  was  taking  place.  I  worked  down  within 
twenty  feet  of  the  goat,  when  suddenly  he  whirled  and 
came  at  me.  I  pointed  my  rifle  at  him  and  yelled,  hop- 
ing to  frighten  him.  He  came  within  six  feet  of  me, 
and  I  was  about  to  fire  when  Kaiser  barked  close  behind 
him.  The  goat  turned  so  quickly  he  almost  trampled 
the  dog,  who  dodged  under  him  and  ran  to  me! 


194  CAMP-FIRES    IN    THE    CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

**  Fortunately  I  was  above  the  goat,  and  finding  that 
the  odds  were  against  him  he  bounded  off  the  point,  and 
once  more  fled  for  the  slide.  This  was  the  maddest  race 
of  all,  for  it  called  for  quick  work  to  get  across  the  top 
of  the  slide  in  time  to  head  off  the  goat.  On  that  fright- 
ful pitch  every  jump  I  made  loosened  stones  which  dis- 
lodged others,  and  they  went  rolling  and  rumbling  down 
the  slide.  The  dog  and  goat  also  started  their  full  quota 
of  rocks,  and  for  a  time  it  seemed  as  if  the  whole  moun- 
tain-side were  moving.  But  I  succeeded  in  heading  off 
the  goat,  and  clambered  up  on  the  wall  above  him. 

"  A  few  minutes  later  Mack  joined  me,  and  as  he 
wiped  the  beads  of  perspiration  from  his  shiny  bald  head, 
I  said  to  him:  '  Did  you  see  the  beautiful  race  we  had 
across  the  slide?  '  '  Didn't  see  nothin','  he  answered  with 
an  air  of  irritation.  '  I  thought  everything  had  broken 
loose  up  here,  and  I  was  too  busy  dodgin'  rocks  to  care 
who  won  any  race.    You-alls  shore  tore  up  the  scenery! ' 

"  After  placing  a  new  roll  in  the  camera  I  crawled 
around  on  the  hanging  wall,  and  secured  a  very  good 
picture  of  the  goat.  As  I  closed  in  he  started  to  retreat, 
but  by  following  him  up  I  secured  a  picture  as  he  was 
getting  away.  Then  Mack  headed  him  once  more,  on 
the  farther  side  of  the  cliff,  when  he  took  refuge  in  a 
niche  near  the  top  of  the  wall. 

''  As  we  approached  him  from  above,  he  again  got 
his  eyes  on  Kaiser,  and  charged  up  through  the  group 
which  we  three  made.  Fortunately  Kaiser  engaged  his 
attention,  which  enabled  Mack  and  me  to  head  him 
and  drive  him  back.     For  a  time  we  lost  him  on  the 


o 


H 


PHOTOGRAPHING   A    MOUNTAIN    GOAT   195 

crags  below.  Presently,  however,  I  found  him  standing 
on  a  wall  which  jutted  out  of  the  cliff  on  the  north  side 
of  the  great  slide.  At  that  point,  the  cliff  towered  up 
perpendicularly  a  hundred  feet  above  the  slide,  and  the 
goat  was  about  twenty  feet  from  the  top,  standing  on  a 
small  projecting  edge  of  rock  that  looked  like  a  peg 
driven  in  the  wall. 

"  At  first  it  seemed  utterly  impossible  to  get  a  pic- 
ture there,  but  on  studying  the  rocks  a  little,  I  thought 
I  saw  a  way.  Leaving  Mack  above  to  watch,  I  crawled 
down  to  a  point  almost  over  the  goat,  where  I  found  that 
the  mountain-side  pitched  down  at  an  angle  of  at  least 
thirty  degrees,  increasing  to  sixty,  and  ending  in  a  sheer 
drop  of  a  hundred  feet  or  more.  The  rock  was  strati- 
fied, dipping  toward  the  valley,  like  the  slates  on  a  roof. 
The  layers  varied  from  the  thickness  of  ordinary  roof- 
slates  to  three  or  four  inches.  Much  of  this  was  loose, 
and  had  to  be  removed  before  I  could  get  a  footing. 

"  As  I  worked  down,  I  started  quite  an  avalanche 
of  stone,  and  held  my  breath  while  I  heard  it  go  rum- 
bling into  the  depths  below.  Just  as  I  was  thinking  of 
going  back,  Mack  called  out,  loudly  and  anxiously:  '  Say, 
Jack!  Is  that  you?'  '  No,'  I  said,  '  it's  only  rock.'  '  I 
thought  you  had  shore  ruined  the  mountain  that  time.' 
He  tried  to  appear  unconcerned,  but  by  his  voice  I  could 
tell  how  he  felt. 

"  At  last  I  succeeded  in  working  over  to  the  edge  of 
the  cliff,  and  found  myself  on  a  level  with  the  goat,  and 
only  eight  feet  away.  It  was  as  if  he  stood  on  a  window 
sill  on  the  gable  end  of  a  house,  while  I  hung  upon  the 


196  CAMP-FIRES    IN    THE    CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

corner  of  the  slate  roof.  By  reaching  far  down  with 
my  left  foot  I  succeeded  in  getting  one  good  foot-hold, 
but  I  had  to  double  my  other  leg  under  me  and  lean 
forward  upon  my  knee.  After  considerable  work  I  broke 
off  pieces  of  rotten  rock,  and  built  up  a  fair  sort  of  a 
camera  rest,  supporting  half  of  it  upon  my  knee.  The 
top  slab  of  my  stone-pile  projected  beyond  the  face  of 
the  cliff,  so  that  between  goat  and  camera  there  was  no 
obstruction  whatever. 

"  To  my  amazement  and  joy,  during  all  this  time  the 
goat  paid  no  attention  to  me,  but  stood  there  as  calm  and 
cool  as  an  icicle.  He  really  seemed  to  be  enjoying  his 
view  of  the  scenery. 

"  After  I  had  my  camera  set,  I  took  a  picture  of  him 
with  his  head  slightly  turned  away,  then  I  began  to  talk 
to  him  in  a  soothing  voice,  calling  to  him,  '  Hey,  Billy! ' 
when  he  deigned  to  turn  his  head  and  look  at  me.  Mack 
heard  me  talking  to  him,  and  called  down, — as  evidence 
that  he  was  near, — 'He  don't  know  his  name!  You 
might  as  well  call  him  Mike! ' 

"  This  was  the  best  chance  I  had  with  that  animal ; 
but  by  that  time  it  was  late  and  the  light  was  not  very 
favorable.  However,  I  gave  him  time  exposures,  and 
got  some  very  fair  results.  Every  now  and  then  the  old 
fellow  would  stick  out  his  tongue  at  me,  and  once  I  took 
a  snapshot  expressly  to  show  that,  but  the  result  was  not 
very  good. 

"  After  using  up  the  six  films  in  the  camera,  I  swung 
it  on  my  back  and  attempted  to  edge  back  from  the  face 
of  the  precipice.    Then  to  my  dismay  I  discovered  that 


Drawn  by  Charles  B.  Hudson. 


Mr.    Phillips's   Most   Dangerous    Position 


PHOTOGRAPHING   A    MOUNTAIN    GOAT   197 

the  bent  knee  on  which  I  had  been  resting  was  as  dead 
as  if  permanently  paralyzed.  It  was  stiff,  and  worse  than 
useless.  I  had  been  frightened  two  or  three  times  during 
that  afternoon,  but  this  was  the  climax.  I  called  to 
Mack,  and  told  him  of  the  fix  I  was  in,  but  owing  to  his 
bad  shoes  he  could  not  come  down  to  help  me.  Then  I 
was  sorry  we  had  not  brought  a  rope. 

"  Seeing  that  I  must  work  out  my  own  salvation  I 
began  to  punch  and  beat  my  leg,  and  kept  it  up  until 
at  last  the  circulation  started,  and  feeling  returned. 
Finally  I  managed  to  crawl  back  very  slowly  to  where 
Mack  could  reach  me,  and  he  soon  landed  me  safely  upon 
a  level  spot. 

"  While  this  was  going  on,  the  goat  got  tired  of  inac- 
tion, jumped  up  over  the  wall  and  started  for  the  peak. 
For  some  reason,  however,  he  changed  his  course  and 
climbed  down  into  the  slide,  with  the  dog  after  him. 
Expecting  to  see  a  good  race  we  stopped  to  watch  it; 
but  poor  Kaiser's  feet  were  now  very  sore  and  the  goat 
outran  him.    And  then  a  queer  thing  happened. 

"  The  goat  stopped  on  the  farther  edge  of  the  slide, 
and  finding  that  his  human  tormentors  were  nowhere 
near,  he  decided  to  get  square  with  that  dog!  When 
Kaiser  reached  him,  the  goat  charged  furiously.  Seeing 
his  danger,  the  dog  turned  and  started  back  the  way  he 
came,  with  the  goat  in  hot  pursuit.  The  goat  pursued 
by  a  series  of  short  rushes,  and  not  by  the  steady,  straight- 
away run  that  a  bear  makes.  He  followed  the  dog  almost 
to  the  ridge  on  which  we  were,  but  finally  desisted,  and 
retreated  southward. 


198  CAMP-FIRES    IN    THE    CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

"  It  was  then  so  late  that  we  started  at  once  for  camp 
in  order  to  get  off  the  crags  before  dark.  It  grew  dark 
before  we  reached  camp,  but  at  last  we  were  guided  in  by 
the  camp-fire,  thoroughly  exhausted,  and  half  famished 
for  water.  I  never  knew  Kaiser  to  drink  so  long  as  then, 
and  his  feet  were  so  raw  and  sore  that  he  scarcely  could 
bear  to  have  them  doctored," 

Mr.  Phillips's  narrative,  as  he  records  it,  does  not  half 
adequately  portray  the  frightful  risks  that  he  ran  on  that 
memorable  afternoon.  That  night,  I  think  he  was  awake 
all  night,  save  once.  Then  he  threshed  around  in  his 
sleeping-bag,  and  clutched  wildly  at  the  silk  tent-roof 
over  his  head. 

'*  Hey,  John!"  I  called  out  sharply,  to  waken  him. 
''  What's  the  matter?    Are  you  having  a  nightmare?  " 

"Oh!"  he  groaned.  ''I  thought  I  was  falling  off 
those  rocks, — clear  down  to  the  tents!" 

Just  before  breakfast  the  next  morning  Mr.  Phillips 
said  to  Mack  in  a  quiet  aside,  "  How  did  you  sleep, 
Mack?" 

"I  didn't  sleep  none!"  said  Mack,  solemnly. 
"  Whenever  I  dozed  off  I  dreamt  that  old  Oramus  was 
buttin'  us  off  them  rocks.  Every  time  I  lit  I  shore 
made  it  lively  for  Charlie." 

They  were  not  the  first  men  whose  sleep  had  been 
destroyed  by  the  recrudescence  of  the  horrors  of  the 
rocks. 

The  next  day  men  and  dog  rested  quietly  in  camp,  too 
tired  and  sore  to  move  out. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

A  RAINY  DAY  IN  CAMP 

The  Finest  of  all  Camps — A  Record-Breaking  Cook — Fearful  Slaughter 
of  Comestibles — Drying  Meat  from  Big  Game — A  Good  Method 
Described — The  Norboe  Brothers — Trapping  on  Bull  River — The 
Trappers'  Bill  of  Fare — Mack  Norboe's  Biggest  Bear — The  Big 
Bear  that  Got  Away. 

The  afternoon  of  September  i6th  was  dominated  by 
misty  rain.  It  was  too  wet  for  hunting,  but  under  the 
giant  Canadian  white-spruce  trees  which  encircled  one 
side  of  our  camp,  we  sat,  and  spat  into  the  camp-fire, 
and  yarned  away  the  hours  most  comfortably.  Big, 
fleecy  white  clouds  from  Bull  River  floated  into  our  val- 
ley, dragged  softly  along  the  side  of  the  eastern  moun- 
tains, and  left  the  green  timber  and  yellow  grass  of  the 
slides  looking  like  a  freshly  varnished  oil-painting.  Our 
horses  grazed  on  the  rich  meadow  in  front  of  the  tents, 
snorted  with  satisfaction,  tinkled  their  bell,  and  fed  until 
they  could  feed  no  more.  Dog  Kaiser  appointed  himself 
special  camp-guard,  and  whenever  a  horse  crossed  his 
dead-line,  there  was  an  indignant  bark,  a  bitten  pastern, 
a  vicious  kick  in  mid-air  at  a  dog  that  was  always  six 
inches  the  other  way,  and  a  quick  retreat. 

It  was  a  busy  day  for  Huddleston,  the  cook;  for  in 

camp,  the  hunter's  fancy  lightly  turns  to  thoughts  of 

199 


200  CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

grub.  When  Charlie  and  I  tramped  in  at  one  o'clock, 
on  account  of  the  rain,  the  others  were  all  there,  and  for 
the  remainder  of  the  afternoon  we  snugged  down  under 
the  three  big  spruces  that  formed  a  triangle  around  our 
camp-fire,  and  loafed,  and  invited  our  souls. 

Were  I  to  hunt  a  thousand  years  longer,  I  think  it 
would  be  impossible  to  find  a  more  ideal  camping-spot 
than  that  which  Mr.  Phillips  named  in  my  honor.  The 
shelter  of  the  beautiful  grove  of  spruces,  the  magnifi- 
cent mountains  within  a  stone's  throw  on  either  hand, 
the  long-distance  view  down  the  valley  to  Roth  Moun- 
tain and  Glacier,  the  slides,  the  vegetation  of  timber- 
line,  the  water,  the  wild  life,  and  last  but  not  least,  the 
grass  for  our  faithful,  never-running-away  horses  made 
a  combination  of  conditions  rarely  found  in  this  world. 

To  me,  the  pace  set  by  our  chef  was  highly  amusing. 
Never  before  have  I  camped  with  a  cook  who  took  his 
job  as  seriously  as  did  Huddleston.  To  begin  with,  he 
was  young  and  vigorous,  accustomed  to  hard  work,  and 
there  was  not  a  shirking  bone  in  his  body.  He  rose  in 
the  morning,  he  cooked  meals,  he  washed  things,  hewed 
wood  and  drew  water  as  if  his  life  depended  upon  the 
perfect  doing  of  each  section  of  his  daily  work.  The 
amount  of  food  that  he  cooked  on  his  folding  stove,  and 
the  quantity  of  bread  that  he  baked  before  our  camp- 
fire  in  his  jolly  little  reflector-oven,  was  simply  appall- 
ing. I  used  to  think  that  my  band  of  rustlers  on  the 
1886  buffalo  hunt  ate  the  most  of  any  human  beings  I 
ever  camped  with;  but  on  this  last  trip,  the  crowd  ate 
more.    No  doubt  it  was  because  we  had  a  greater  variety, 


A    RAINY    DAY    IN    CAMP  201 

and  the  temptation  was  stronger.  It  will  be  many  a  year 
ere  I  cease  to  hear  Huddleston  saying  briskly,  "  Grub's 
ready,  gentlemen.  Now,  which  will  you  have?  Coffee, 
tea  or  chocolate?    I've  got  'em  all!  " 

We  all  believed  in  having  luxurious  camp-fires;  and 
wood  was  plentiful  and  cheap.  Each  night  and  morn- 
ing it  was  a  white  man's  camp-fire,  for  fair.  You  know 
the  familiar  Indian  saying  current  in  the  West, — "  White 
man  make  heap-big  fire,  get  way  ofif!"  It  was  against 
the  rules  to  cut  logs  shorter  than  six  feet — save  when 
away  from  home,  and  camping  on  a  trail. 

From  the  very  first,  I  began  to  dry  wild  meat,  after 
a  very  good  fashion  which  I  had  learned  of  my  old 
friend  L.  A.  Huffman,  away  back  in  the  bad-lands  of 
Montana.  Strange  to  say,  none  of  the  other  members 
of  our  party  knew  any  good  method  of  drying  meat,  and 
they  watched  my  work  with  keen  interest,  and  an  eye  to 
the  future. 

The  process  is  so  simple  a  child  can  use  it,  and  the 
ingredients  can  be  purchased  in  any  frontier  store,  for  a 
few  cents.  In  Michel,  I  bought  half  a  pound  of  black 
pepper,  an  equal  quantity  of  ground  allspice,  and  four 
three-pound  bags  of  fine  table-salt.  The  proportions  of 
the  mixture  I  use  are:  Salt,  three  pounds;  allspice,  four 
table-spoonfuls,  and  black  pepper  five  table-spoonfuls,  all 
thoroughly  mixed. 

Take  a  ham  of  deer,  elk,  or  mountain  sheep,  or  fall- 
killed  mountain  goat,  and  as  soon  as  possible  after  kill- 
ing, dissect  the  thigh,  muscle  by  muscle.  Any  one  can 
learn  to  do  this  by  following  up  with  fhe  knife  the 


202   CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

natural  divisions  between  the  muscles.  With  big  game 
like  elk,  some  of  the  muscles  of  the  thigh  are  so  thick 
they  require  to  be  split  in  two.  A  piece  of  meat  should 
not  exceed  five  inches  in  thickness.  Skin  off  all  envel- 
oping membranes,  so  that  the  curative  powder  will 
come  in  direct  contact  with  the  raw,  moist  flesh.  The 
flesh  must  be  sufficiently  fresh  and  moist  that  the  pre- 
servative will  readily  adhere  to  it.  The  best  size  for 
pieces  of  meat  to  be  cured  by  this  process  is  not  over  a 
foot  long,  by  six  or  eight  inches  wide  and  four  inches 
thick. 

When  each  piece  has  been  neatly  and  skilfully  pre- 
pared rub  the  powder  upon  every  part  of  the  surface, 
and  let  the  mixture  adhere  as  much  as  it  will.  Then 
hang  up  each  piece  of  meat,  by  a  string  through  a  hole 
made  in  the  smaller  end,  and  let  it  dry  in  the  wind.  If 
the  sun  is  hot,  keep  the  meat  in  the  shade;  but  in  the 
north,  the  sun  helps  the  process.  Never  let  the  meat  get 
wet.  If  the  weather  is  rainy  for  a  long  period,  hang 
your  meat-rack  where  it  will  get  mild  heat  from  the 
camp-fire,  but  no  more  smoke  than  is  unavoidable,  and 
cover  it  at  night  with  a  piece  of  canvas. 

Meat  thus  prepared  is  not  at  its  best  for  eating  until 
it  is  about  a  month  old;  then  slice  it  thin.  After  that  no 
sportsman,  or  hunter,  or  trapper  can  get  enough  of  it. 
Wives  and  sweethearts  who  love  out-doors  dote  upon  it. 
To  men  who  write  about  nature  and  animals,  each  chew 
is  a  fresh  inspiration. 

No;  this  is  not  "jerked"  meat.  It  is  many  times 
better.     It  is  always  eaten  uncooked,  and  as  a  concen- 


A    RAINY    DAY    IN    CAMP 


203 


trated,  stimulating  food  for  men  in  the  wilds,  it  is  valu- 
able. Charlie  Smith  and  the  Norboes  were  emphatic 
in  their  expressions  of  regret  that  they  never  before  had 
known  of  that  process.  Said  Charlie,  ruefully,  "  Think 
of  the  good  meat,  Mack,  that  we  could  have  saved  for 
months  on  Bull  River,  that  long  winter,  if  we  had  only 
known  about  this  scheme!  We  would  never  have  gone 
meat-hungry!  " 

There  is  no  question  about  it.  The  American  trap- 
per has  for  a  century  been  horribly  wasteful  of  wild  life, 
because  he  did  not  know  how  to  dry  wild  meat,  easily 
and  cheaply.  Pemmican  is  all  right;  but  the  making  of 
it,  on  a  good,  palatable  basis,  is  neither  simple  nor  easy. 

While  on  this  trip  I  cured  for  Mr.  Phillips  and 
myself  about  forty  pounds  (when  dry)  of  the  meat  of 
mountain  goat,  mule  deer,  mountain  sheep  and  grizzly 
bear.  The  mountain  goat  meat  was  good,  but  slightly 
tough  in  comparison  with  the  other  meats.  It  had  not 
the  slightest  disagreeable  flavor,  but  in  spring  it  is  spoiled 
by  the  flavor  of  wild  onions.  All  the  meat  of  mountain 
sheep  and  mule  deer  was  tender  and  delicious,  but  that 
of  the  grizzly  bear,  when  dried,  had  a  queer  fishy  taste 
that  made  it  unpalatable.  The  flesh  of  the  mountain 
sheep  {Ovis  canadensis)  and  mule  deer  are  so  nearly 
identical,  both  in  fibre  and  in  flavor,  that  in  the  fall 
months  no  human  palate  can  distinguish  one  from  the 
other. 

In  our  small  party  there  were  some  good  story-tellers, 
— "  raconteurs  "  they  call  them,  east  of  Altoona;  besides 
which,  my  companions  were  men  who  had  seen  and  done 


204  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

many  things  in  the  late  Wild  West.  Of  Charlie  Smith, 
I  have  already  written.  The  stories  he  told  us  of  "  the 
Bush  River  country,"  and  of  the  wilds  of  Oregon  and 
Washington,  to  say  nothing  of  the  Elk  River  region, 
would  make  a  fascinating  book. 

Mack  and  John  Norboe,  of  Norwegian  parentage, 
were  born  on  the  plains  of  Texas,  grew  up  as  buffalo- 
hunters,  cowboys  and  Indian  fighters,  and  finally  "  set- 
tled down  "  as  guides  and  trappers.  Both  participated 
in  the  mad  and  reckless  buffalo  slaughter  of  the  early 
seventies,  and  killed  buffaloes  of  which  they  cannot  now 
be  induced  to  tell.  In  the  days  of  Apache  and  Comanche 
Indian  troubles,  when  the  murder  of  settlers'  families 
often  called  for  punitive  expeditions  gathered  on  short 
notice,  they  rode  and  fought  Indians  with  other  white 
men  who  believed  in  the  survival  of  the  fittest.  Later 
on.  Mack  became  foreman  of  a  large  cattle-ranch,  after 
which  he  fell  in  with  Charlie  Smith,  and  settled  down 
permanently  as  his  partner.  For  six  years  or  more  they 
have  guided,  trapped  and  hunted  together,  drawing  in 
John  Norboe  as  a  special  partner  whenever  circum- 
stances tempted  him  to  come  in. 

As  a  talker,  Mack  is  more  reserved  than  Charlie  and 
John,  and  rarely  relates  a  long  story,  especially  when  it 
is  possible  to  put  that  labor  upon  his  partner.  He  is  a 
bold  and  successful  hunter,  and  a  hardy  mountaineer, 
but  on  dangerous  rocks,  his  nerves  are  not  quite  so  cold 
as  those  of  his  partners.  When  he  is  afraid,  he  does  not 
hesitate  to  say  so;  which  many  a  pretty  gentleman  finds 
it  very  hard  to  do. 


A    RAINY    DAY    IN    CAMP  205 

John  R.  Norboe  is  an  almost  tireless  climber,  and 
bold  on  the  cliffs,  beyond  the  limit  of  safety.  In  the 
telling  of  stories  he  is  both  graphic  and  picturesque,  and 
the  manner  in  which  he  unconsciously  acts  out  his  stories 
is  always  irresistibly  amusing.  He  is  a  reasonably  ready 
talker,  and  invariably  interesting.  In  both  John  and 
Mack  the  vernacular  of  the  southern  cattle-plains  was 
strongly  in  evidence,  and  it  made  them  all  the  more 
interesting. 

I  mention  these  three  men  thus  particularly  because 
they  are  to-day  successful  trappers  of  fur-bearing  ani- 
mals. Even  amid  the  present  scarcity  of  such  wild  life, 
they  are  sufficiently  wise  in  wood-craft  to  make  at  least 
half  their  living  by  trapping  marten,  wolverine,  ermine, 
mink,  lynx,  and  (I  regret  to  say  it)  bear.  In  the  United 
States  the  fur-trapper  is  almost  extinct,  because  there  are 
no  longer  enough  fur-bearing  animals  to  make  the  pur- 
suit interesting. 

I  am  tempted  to  add  the  record  of  one  winter's  catch, 
made  on  Bull  River,  by  the  two  Norboes  alone.  From 
September  15th  until  the  middle  of  the  following  June, 
they  caught  96  marten,  7  wolverines,  4  grizzly  bears,  6 
beavers,  10  mink  and  i  lynx.  During  this  period  they 
consumed  the  following  food:  3  bull  elk,  7  goats,  700 
pounds  of  flour,  200  pounds  of  sugar,  50  pounds  of  dried 
fruit,  15  gallons  of  berries,  30  pounds  of  coffee  and  20 
pounds  of  rice. 

Let  it  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  even  in  the 
country  in  which  we  then  were,  it  is  always  possible  for 
hunters  and  trappers  to  supply  themselves  with  wild  meat 


2o6  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

on  short  notice.  In  the  spring  of  1904  when  three  mem- 
bers of  our  party,  Mr.  Phillips,  Charlie  Smith  and  Mack 
Norboe,  were  bear-hunting  in  the  Bull  River  country, 
they  ran  out  of  meat,  and  became  so  hungry  for  that  very 
necessary  item  they  flung  appearances  to  the  winds,  and 
sent  Charlie  Smith  on  snow-shoes  over  two  ranges  of 
mountains,  thirty  miles  in  and  thirty  miles  back,  for  a 
ham!  That  was  sufficiently  absurd,  but  the  sequel  was 
even  more  so.  In  order  to  travel  rapidly,  and  be  bur- 
dened with  nothing  save  the  ham  and  his  revolver, 
Charlie  left  his  rifle  behind.  On  the  return  journey  he 
was  followed  up  by  a  grizzly  bear  which  also  needed  a 
sugar-cured  ham!  But  Charlie  was  "dead  game"  and 
even  when  face  to  face  with  the  grizzly  and  with  no 
rifle,  he  refused  to  jettison  his  cargo.  He  finally  bluffed 
and  eluded  the  bear,  and  steered  his  precious  freight 
safely  into  port,  having  made  that  severe  round  trip  in 
two  days. 

Mack  Norboe  has  had  hundreds  of  interesting  ad- 
ventures, but  it  is  difficult  to  induce  him  to  tell  of  one. 
There  are  men  who  talk  more  of  their  one  bear  than 
Mack  does  of  his  hundred.  Only  the  most  skilful  stalk- 
ing at  the  camp-fire  ever  rounds  up  an  extended  narrative 
by  him. 

But  every  man  makes  exceptions.  When  the  talk 
turned  on  the  charging  habits  of  grizzlies,  a  goodly 
amount  of  silent  treatment,  backed  up  by  a  few  well- 
aimed  questions,  finally  brought  forth  this  incident: 


A   Rainv   Day   in   Camp 


A    RAINY    DAY    IN    CAMP  207 

MACK   NORBOE'S  BIGGEST   BEAR 

*'  Yes,  I've  hunted  grizzly  b'ar  and  black  b'ar  in 
Colorado,  Wyoming,  Montana  and  British  Columbia. 
All  told,  I  think  I  must  have  shot  up  and  trapped  purty 
nigh  on  to  a  hundred;  but  out  of  all  the  grizzlies  I've 
shot,  and  shot  at,  only  one  ever  really  charged  me.  But 
I  don't  believe  even  that  one  w^ould  a-charged  me  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  my  dogs. 

"  That  w^as  in  Routt  County,  Colorado,  between  the 
White  and  the  B'ar  Rivers,  in  the  spring  of  '91.  I  think 
there's  a  family  of  big  b'ar  in  that  country,  just  as  there's 
an  outfit  of  specially  big  black  b'ar  here  on  Elk  River. 
In  this  Colorado  country  that  I'm  a-tellin'  ye  about,  there 
w^as  a  whalin'  big  grizzly  that  they  called  *  old  Jumbo,' 
and  he'd  been  killin'  cattle  for  five  or  six  years.  From 
the  size  of  his  tracks,  everybody  knew^  that  he  was  a 
shore  big  'un,  but  I  don't  know  of  any  one  who  had 
seen  or  shot  at  him.  Sam  Ware,  who  had  a  cattle-ranch 
on  B'ar  River,  tracked  him  one  day  down  Crooked-Wash 
Creek,  and  had  Sam  run  onto  him  he  shore  would  have 
rounded  old  Jumbo  up,  for  he  was  a  good  shot,  and  full 
o'  sand. 

"  Early  in  the  spring  I  was  out  with  my  two  fox- 
hounds, runnin'  a  mountain-lion,  but  the  track  was  so 
old  we  didn't  jump  him.  There  was  considerable  snow 
on  the  ground,  and  in  making  a  circuit  we  struck  on 
old  Jumbo's  tracks.  Gee!  but  they  were  big!  He  had 
just  come  out  of  his  winter  quarters  in  the  White  River 
range,   and  was  pintin'   out  toward   B'ar  River.     The 


2o8   CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

trail  was  good  and  fresh,  and  I  put  the  dogs  right  on  to 
it.  Before  they  had  gone  more'n  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  a 
thunderin'  racket  broke  loose,  and  I  was  shore  that  they 
had  jumped  the  b'ar. 

"  It  was  roUin',  hilly  ground,  covered  with  cedars, 
and  the  branches  hung  so  low  it  made  it  very  bad  for 
seeing  any  distance.  I  pulled  my  freight  toward  the 
place  where  the  row  was  goin'  on,  but  had  hardly  got 
fairly  started  when  one  of  the  dogs  rushed  a-past  me 
makin'  for  the  rear,  with  his  tail  between  his  legs,  and 
his  ears  a-flappin'  up  and  down  like  a  pair  o'  bird's 
wings.  The  b'ar  had  plumb  stampeded  him,  and  I  didn't 
see  him  no  more  until  the  next  day. 

"  I  hurried  on  as  fast  as  I  could  go,  and  just  as  I 
reached  the  top  of  a  hill  that  lay  ahead  of  me,  here 
comes  old  Jumbo,  just  a-tearin'  along  after  my  Ponto 
dog;  and  Ponto  was  hikin'  along  in  front,  barkin'  at 
every  jump.  That  old  dog  shore  had  plenty  o'  sand. 
First  thing  I  knew,  old  Jumbo  was  right  there  within 
twenty  yards  of  me;  and  when  he  saw  me,  he  rushed 
straight  at  me. 

"  I  had  a  45-90  Winchester,  and  it  was  all  right. 
Quick  as  I  could,  I  sent  in  two  shots,  one  in  the  centre 
of  the  breast,  the  other  in  the  shoulder.  My  Ponto  dog 
had  jumped  from  the  trail  behind  a  cedar,  and  he  was 
between  me  and  the  b'ar.  My  first  two  shots  dropped 
old  Jumbo,  all  right,  but  while  I  was  throwin'  in  the 
third  cartridge,  he  jumps  up  and  starts  for  me  again, 
full  pelt. 

''  I  s'pose  my  dog  thought  the  b'ar  was  gettin'  too 


A    RAINY    DAY    IN    CAMP  209 

close  to  me.  Anyway,  he  jumps  from  behind  that  cedar, 
plumb  at  the  b'ar's  throat, — just  as  I  fired!  I  didn't 
see  the  dog  till  he  filled  the  sight,  just  as  I  pulled  the 
trigger;  but  when  the  gun  cracked,  I  knew  I'd  killed 
him.  The  ball  went  clean  through  his  shoulders,  killin' 
him  stone  dead;  but  it  also  hit  the  b'ar  in  a  front  leg, 
and  when  he  grabbed  his  leg  between  his  teeth  and  bit 
it,  it  gave  me  a  chance  to  put  a  ball  into  his  neck,  which 
finished  him. 

"  The  death  of  my  dog  made  me  so  mad  and  locoed 
I  just  emptied  my  Winchester  into  that  b'ar,  after  he  was 
down  for  keeps.  I  felt  as  I  couldn't  ever  stop  shootin' 
him.    He  was  shore  scorched  by  my  last  five  shots. 

"  That  was  the  only  b'ar  that  ever  charged  me.  Al- 
though he  had  only  just  come  out  of  his  winter  den,  he 
was  very  fat.  We  got  out  of  him  over  a  hundred  pounds 
of  grease.  He  hadn't  eaten  anything  since  he  holed  up 
in  the  fall.  His  stomach  was  about  the  size  of  my  two 
fists,  and  there  was  nothing  in  it  but  wrinkles.  He  was 
a  dark  silver-tip,  and  his  hair  was  rather  short  and  thin. 
We  got  only  twelve-fifty  out  of  him,  bounty  and  hide. 
The  bounty  was  $10.  He  was  the  biggest  b'ar  I  ever 
saw.  No,  we  didn't  weigh  him,  nor  measure  him.  We 
had  no  way  to  do  either;  but  his  dry  hide  was  over  ten 
feet  long." 

THE  BIG  BEAR  THAT  GOT  AWAY 

Some  one  said  something  about  the  difficulty  of  judg- 
ing distances  in  the  mountains,  particularly  over  snow; 
and  that  led  to  a  remark  from  Mack  Norboe 


2IO  CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

"  Say,  Mr.  Phillips,  how  about  Big  Ben?  " 

"  It  is  always  the  biggest  fish  and  the  biggest  bucks 
that  get  away,"  said  Mr.  Phillips,  reflectively;  and  on 
being  encouraged  to  "  out  with  it "  he  outed  with  it, 
as  follows: — 

"  The  bear  that  Mack  refers  to  with  that  twinkle  in 
his  eye  was,  in  one  way,  the  most  remarkable  bear  I  ever 
saw  on  foot.  We  were  hunting  on  the  head  of  Wilson 
Creek,  and  it  was  the  12th  of  May.  In  many  places  the 
snow  was  deep  on  the  mountains,  but  there  were  a  few 
bare  spots  on  the  slides,  where  it  had  melted  ofif.  In 
those  places,  wild  onions  were  springing  up,  and  Mack 
and  I  started  up  a  slide  to  look  for  a  salad.  But  instead 
of  finding  small  onions,  we  found  big  game. 

"  Mack  looked  half  a  mile  up  a  big  slide,  and  said, 

"  *  Oh,  my  I  what  a  big  silver-tip! ' 

"  It  was  a  bear  all  right,  and  while  he  looked  very 
dark,  he  seemed  entirely  too  big  for  a  black  bear.  When 
we  looked  at  him  with  our  glasses,  however,  we  saw  that 
although  he  was  a  black  bear,  he  was  a  whaling  big  one. 
He  was  out  on  a  snow-covered  slide,  walking  slowly 
about  among  some  low  bushes,  whose  tops  rose  only  a 
few  inches  above  the  snow. 

"  As  soon  as  we  had  taken  a  good  look  at  him,  we 
prepared  for  a  run  and  a  big  fight. 

"  '  He's  a  shore  big  'un! '  said  Mack." 

(At  that  point.  Mack  laughed.) 

"  We  kept  in  the  edge  of  the  green  timber,  and 
ploughed  up  through  the  snow  at  a  great  rate,  shedding 
clothing  at  intervals  all  the  way.     In  a  very  short  time 


A    RAINY    DAY    IN    CAMP  211 

we  got  up  nearly  opposite  the  bear,  but  a  little  below 
him.  The  distance  was  only  one  hundred  and  seventy- 
five  yards,  and  the  bear  looked  as  big  as  ever.  Without 
losing  a  minute  I  stepped  out,  knelt  down,  and  just  as 
the  bear  looked  at  me,  fired  at  the  centre  of  him.  My 
bullet  flew  a  foot  too  high,  and  the  bear  started  to  run. 
I  opened  up  and  fired  four  more  shots  at  him,  and  every 
shot  went  high,  just  like  so  many  steps  in  a  ladder. 

"  The  bear  plunged  into  the  green  timber  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  slide,  and  disappeared.  I  looked  at 
Mack,  and  said,  '  I  missed  him\ ' 

"  *  Ye  shore-ly  did! '  said  Mack. 

"  We  went  out  upon  the  slide,  and  looked  at  the 
bear's  tracks.    Then  we  both  burst  out  laughing. 

"  That  bear  was  nothing  but  a  measly  little  cub^  fif- 
teen months  old!  He  was  only  two  sizes  bigger  than 
a  full-grown  woodchuck,  and  his  tracks  were  simply 
ridiculous,  they  were  so  small.  .  .  .  You  see,  the  little 
brute  was  out  there  on  the  snow,  and  there  was  abso- 
lutely nothing  to  indicate  its  size.  Instead  of  being  one 
hundred  and  seventy-five  yards  away  it  was  only  seventy- 
five,  and  each  time  I  fired  at  the  bear  I  shot  clean  over 
it.    I  never  touched  a  hair  of  it." 

"  That  was  the  only  bear  that  ever  got  away  from 
Mr.  Phillips!"  said  Mack. 

"  Yes,"  said  Charlie  Smith,  "  and  to  cap  the  climax 
of  that  great  big  bear-fight,  I  heard  the  firing,  and 
rushed  up  from  camp  with  knives  and  whetstones  and 
things,  to  help  skin  a  big  bear.  But  it  just  shows  ye  how 
sometimes  the  mountains  fool  a  man  com-pletely !  " 


CHAPTER   XV 

CAMP-FIRE  TALES 

Charlie  Smith's  Story — An  Outlaw  in  Camp — A  Silent  Death  Sentence 
— The  Pursuers  of  Tom  Savage  Find  Him — His  Fate — John 
Norboe  Introduces  Old  John  Campbell — Trying  to  be  Chased  by 
a  Grizzly — The  Bear  that  Fell  into  the  Fire. 

Who  is  there  who  does  not  love  a  good  story,  told 
to  eager  and  sympathetic  listeners  beside  a  generous 
camp-fire!  Show  me  a  man  who  does  not,  and  I  will 
show  you  a  man  whose  heart  is  not  right,  whose  red 
corpuscles  are  green,  and  whose  milk  of  human-kindness 
has  turned  to  whey. 

There  are  chums  and  chums;  and  guides  and  guides. 
I  have  camped  with  several  kinds  of  men, — ^white,  red, 
yellow,  brown  and  black.  In  the  lot  there  have  been 
some  of  the  best  of  men,  and  some  bad  ones.  One  was 
a  murderer,  out  of  a  job;  and  another  was  a  donkey  with 
a  human  head,  freshly  retired  from  a  great  army  for 
being  a  fool. 

I  have  already  insinuated,  however,  that  the  compo- 
sition of  our  party  of  seven, — counting  Kaiser, — left  me 
absolutely  nothing  to  desire.  And  it  was  in  our  ideal 
camp,  in  the  head  of  Avalanche  Valley,  that  the  spirit 
moved  most  upon  the  company,  and  the  best  stories  were 
told.    The  surroundings  were  so  satisfactory  that  as  we 


CAMP-FIRE   TALES  213 

sat  by  the  blazing  logs  and  loafed  away  the  hours  of 
storm  and  ante-bedtime,  each  camper  brought  forth  his 
share  of  story  contributions,  and  told  them  in  his  best 
style.  The  good  stories  told  around  that  camp-fire  would 
easily  fill  a  volume;  and  I  would  be  more  than  human 
if  I  could  refrain  from  reporting  here  a  few  of  them,  as 
samples  of  the  whole.  One  of  the  best  was  told  by 
Charlie  Smith,  precisely  as  follows,  concerning 

AN  OUTLAW  IN  CAMP 

"  I  Spent  the  winter  of  1878  at  Fort  Klamath,  in 
southern  Oregon,  and  in  January  I  had  some  business 
at  the  government  land-office,  which  then  was  at  Lake 
View,  ninety  miles  away.  The  trip  had  to  be  made  by 
team,  so  early  one  morning  I  left  Fort  Klamath  with  a 
span  of  good  horses  and  a  light  wagon.  The  ground 
was  covered  with  snow,  and  as  the  country  was  sparsely 
settled  it  was  necessary  to  haul  supplies  for  myself  and 
my  horses,  and  camp  on  the  trail. 

"  Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day,  I  reached 
the  lower  end  of  Drew's  valley,  and  camped  for  the 
night.  After  unhitching  my  horses  and  feeding  them,  I 
rolled  three  pitch-pine  logs  together,  and  soon  had  a 
roaring  fire  going,  over  which  I  boiled  a  pot  of  coffee. 
After  supper  I  spread  some  hay  on  the  snow,  and  made 
my  bed  for  the  night. 

"  When  it  became  dark,  I  laid  down  on  my  blankets, 
to  enjoy  a  real  old  camp-out  smoke,  and  watch  the  flicker 
of  my  camp-fire  on  the  pine  boughs  overhead. 

"  I  had  lain  there  for  some  time,  and  was  beginning 


214  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

to  feel  sleepy,  when  I  heard  horses  coming  down  the 
mountain  from  the  west,  their  hoofs  beating  a  regular 
tattoo  on  the  frozen  road.  A  few  moments  later,  an  Ind- 
ian rode  up  to  my  fire.  That  didn't  surprise  me  much, 
for  in  those  days,  one  was  liable  to  meet  an  Indian  at 
any  turn  in  the  road. 

"  He  reined  in  his  horse,  and  sprang  to  the  ground, 
giving  a  grunt  by  way  of  salutation.  He  had  two  horses, 
and  had  been  riding  one  and  leading  the  other.  They 
were  both  dripping  with  perspiration,  and  seemed  just 
ready  to  fall  in  their  tracks.  After  giving  me  and  my 
outfit  a  sharp  look,  he  led  his  ponies  to  one  side,  and 
tied  them  to  a  small  tree.  Then  he  came  and  stood  by 
my  fire,  and  asked  me  for  some  grass  for  his  horses.  I 
told  him  I  didn't  have  any  grass  to  spare.  It  wouldn't 
have  done  them  any  good,  even  if  I  had  had  a  ton  to 
give  them,  for  they  were  just  completely  run  to  death. 
They  stood  up  only  a  few  minutes,  and  before  daylight 
one  of  them  was  dead. 

"  The  Indian  was  dressed  in  a  buckskin  shirt  and 
leggings,  and  a  heavy  red  blanket  was  belted  around  his 
waist.  I  was  sitting  on  my  blanket,  and  my  rifle,  which 
I  always  kept  near  me,  was  tucked  under  the  edge  of  my 
bed,  by  my  side.  A  cold,  raw  wind  was  blowing,  and 
as  the  Indian  turned  about  to  warm  himself  before  the 
fire,  the  wind  caught  the  corner  of  his  red  blanket  and 
blew  it  up  to  one  side.  To  my  perfect  horror,  I  saw  a 
woman's  scalp  hanging  from  his  inside  belt,  a  white 
woman's  scalp,  with  light-colored  hair  over  a  foot 
long! 


X 


u 


O     S 


J  - 


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CAMP-FIRE   TALES  215 

"  I  can't  begin  to  tell  you  what  a  feeling  that  sight 
sent  through  me.  It  was  like  a  current  of  electricity; 
and  I  felt  it  clean  down  to  the  ends  of  my  toes.  Like  a 
flash,  I  knew  that  that  Indian  was  a  murderer,  that  he 
had  killed  some  settler's  wife, — and  probably  the  whole 
family, — stolen  their  horses,  and  was  being  followed  by 
somebody.  Even  an  Indian  won't  run  a  good  pair  of 
horses  to  death  for  just  nothing. 

"  Without  stopping  for  an  instant  to  think  what  I 
was  doing,  I  grabbed  my  rifle,  cocked  it,  and  brought  it 
to  bear  on  that  Indian. 

"'Lay  down,  or  I'll  shoot  you!'  I  fairly  yelled 
at  him. 

"  I'll  never  forget  the  look  he  gave  me,  it  was  such 
a  horrible  mixture  of  ferocity  and  fear.  He  didn't  obey 
the  order  at  once,  but  glancing  over  his  shoulder  he  said, 
*  You  know  me?  ' 

"  I  said,  '  No  I  don't  and  I  don't  want  to,  either.' 

"  '  Me  Tom  Savage.' 

"  *  Well,'  I  said,  '  I  don't  give  a  cuss  how  savage  you 
are.  If  you  don't  do  as  I  say,  I'll  fill  your  hide  so  full 
of  holes  it  won't  hold  baled  hay;  and  you'd  better  not 
argue  the  point.' 

"  Seeing  that  I  had  my  gun  levelled  square  at  his 
heart,  he  dropped  to  the  ground. 

"  '  Now,'  I  said,  '  turn  your  back  to  me,  and  if  you 
attempt  to  get  up,  or  turn  over,  or  look  at  me  to-night, 
I'll  kill  you  right  where  you  lay.' 

"  After  the  first  shock  of  my  surprise  and  horror  had 
worn  off,  I  did  some  very  hard  thinking.    I  was  reason- 


ai6  CAMP-FIRES  IN   THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

ably  sure  some  one  was  after  him,  or  he  would  not  have 
run  his  horses  to  death.  I  reasoned  that  he  knew  his 
mounts  were  done  for,  and  his  object  in  stopping  at  my 
camp  was  to  raise  my  hair,  and  with  my  comparatively 
fresh  horses,  hit  the  trail  again. 

"  I  was  in  a  mighty  uncomfortable  position.  My  bet- 
ter feelings  naturally  turned  against  the  idea  of  shoot- 
ing him,  but  all  the  time  I  was  fully  resolved  he  should 
not  escape  me.  The  main  cause  of  immediate  uneasiness 
was  that  those  pine  logs  might  burn  out  before  morning, 
and  that  darkness  might  force  me  to  act. 

"  And  so  I  spent  that  long,  bitter  cold  night, — one  of 
the  longest  I  ever  spent.  Once  during  the  night  the  logs 
fell  apart,  and  one  of  them  came  near  rolling  on  the 
Indian.  He  turned  over  and  made  as  if  to  spring  to  his 
feet.  I  yelled  at  him  not  to  get  up,  but  to  kick  the  log 
back  again;  so  he  put  his  feet  against  it  and  shoved  it 
back  against  the  other.  When  the  fire  blazed  up  again 
I  laid  my  gun  down,  and  put  my  hands  under  the  blan- 
kets, for  the  wind  was  sharp  and  my  bed  was  too  far 
from  the  fire  for  comfort  outside  of  blankets. 

"  As  the  night  wore  away,  I  began  to  grow  nervous. 
My  business  was  urgent,  and  I  could  not  go  on  without 
doing  something  with  that  fellow.  The  more  I  thought 
over  the  matter,  the  more  determined  I  was  that  he 
should  not  escape  me.     I  thought  of  all  sorts  of  things. 

"  Along  about  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  as  I  sat 
there  watching  and  thinking,  I  noticed  the  Indian  give 
a  slight  start,  and  then  appear  to  be  intently  listening. 
I,  too,  strained  my  ears  for  some  sound,  hoping  against 


CAMP-FIRE    TALES  217 

hope  that  some  settler  would  come  along;  for  by  that 
time  I  had  resolved  that  if  assistance  did  not  come  soon, 
I  would  put  a  ball  through  that  murderer's  head,  affix 
my  brand,  and  leave  him  in  the  road. 

"  To  my  great  relief  I  soon  detected  the  sound  of 
hoof-beats,  coming  at  a  sharp  gallop  down  the  hillside, 
from  the  west.  As  they  came  nearer  and  nearer,  the 
Indian  began  to  beg  of  me  to  let  him  go.  It  was  the 
first  time  he  had  spoken  to  me  after  telling  me  his  name 
in  the  evening;  but  I  ordered  him  to  lie  still.  In  a  few 
minutes  a  lieutenant  and  four  soldiers  of  the  regular 
army  trotted  up  to  my  smouldering  fire. 

"  As  the  officer  in  command  dismounted,  his  glance 
fixed  upon  the  blanketed  party  in  front  of  the  fire,  and 
he  took  in  the  whole  situation.  He  went  up  and  poked 
the  Indian  with  his  foot,  and  as  the  savage  turned  his 
head  and  looked  at  him,  he  said  to  me,  very  cheerfully, 
*  Well,  stranger,  you've  got  our  bird  here!  We've  been 
wanting  this  fellow.' 

"  '  Very  likely,  officer,'  I  said,  '  and  if  you  hadn't 
showed  up  for  another  hour,  a  hearse  would  have  been 
of  more  use  to  him  than  handcuffs.' 

"  '  Would  you  have  executed  him?  ' 

"  '  He's  got  a  white  woman's  scalp  under  his  blanket, 
and  I  shorely  would  have  branded  him  so  well  that  he 
wouldn't  have  been  taken  for  a  maverick.  But  I'm 
mighty  glad  you've  come,  just  the  same;  and  now  I  re- 
lease all  claims  on  him.' 

"  They  soon  had  the  brute  in  irons,  and  I  soon  had 
a  pot  of  cofifee  boiling.    While  we  drank  our  coffee,  we 


2i8   CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

talked.  The  lieutenant  told  me  that  this  Indian  was  a 
Bannock,  who  had  been  ranging  about  Stein's  Mountain, 
and  he  was  an  outlaw.  He  had  made  a  sneak  on  an  iso- 
lated settler,  and  had  murdered  the  whole  family, — man, 
woman  and  child. 

"  He  hid  in  the  locality  for  some  time,  but  it  soon 
got  too  warm  for  him,  and  he  skipped  out  and  went  to 
the  Klamath  Reservation.  There  he  hid  himself  among 
the  numerous  tribes  living  there,  until  one  day  while 
gambling  with  a  Klamath  Indian,  he  stabbed  and  killed 
him.  This  enraged  the  Indians  on  the  Reservation,  and 
they  reported  him  to  the  agent,  who  sent  a  squad  of 
troopers  after  him.  In  some  way  he  got  wind  of  it,  and 
with  two  stolen  ponies  he  undertook  to  get  back  to  his 
old  range  again. 

''  He  was  taken  to  Fort  Klamath,  tried  for  murder, 
and  hanged." 

Charlie  Smith  is  no  braggart;  and  when  he  told  of 
his  deliberate  resolve  to  execute  Tom  Savage  for  the 
murder  of  a  white  woman,  every  one  of  his  auditors  felt 
sure  that  but  for  the  arrival  of  the  outlaw's  pursuers,  the 
grim  death  sentence  that  Charlie  silently  pronounced  by 
the  embers  of  his  smouldering  camp-fire  would  resolutely 
have  been  carried  out. 

For  about  the  forty-fifth  time,  the  talk  and  story- 
telling turned  once  more  to  bears.  One  remark  led  to 
another  until  John  Norboe  said: 

''  The  funniest  thing  I  ever  heard  of  in  bear-huntin' 
was  about  old  Jack  Campbell,  and 


CAMP-FIRE   TALES  219 

THE  GRIZZLY  THAT  FELL  INTO  THE  FIRE 

"  Campbell  was  a  bald-headed  old  fellow  who  lived 
a  few  miles  above  Meeker,  Colorado.  He  was  great  on 
killin'  grizzlies,  and  he  killed  so  many  of  'em  that  finally 
he  wasn't  ever  afraid  of  one,  nohow.  One  time  a  feller 
was  drivin'  along  a  trail,  and  he  saw  old  Jack  come  a-run- 
nin'  out  of  a  thick  patch  o'  young  jack  pines,  with  an  axe 
in  his  hand,  lookin'  behind  him.  No,  he  didn't  have  no 
gun.  Bimeby  he  stopped,  went  back  into  the  jack  pines, 
but  soon  come  a-runnin'  out  again,  just  as  before.  Then 
he  stopped,  and  blamed  if  he  didn't  do  it  all  over  again. 

"  Then  the  feller  on  the  trail  got  off  his  wagon, 
hitched  his  horses,  and  went  up  to  see  what  it  all  meant. 
And  what  d'ye  s'pose  that  old  cuss  was  up  to?  " 

Everybody  gave  it  up. 

"  Well,  sir,  there  was  a  grizzly  bear  in  the  middle 
of  them  jack  pines,  eatin'  on  a  dead  horse;  and  blamed 
if  old  Jack  wasn't  a-tryin'  to  tease  that  bear  into  chasin' 
him  out  into  the  open,  where  he  could  swing  his  axe,  so 
that  he  could  kill  him, — with  his  axe!  The  bear  would 
chase  him  part  way  out,  then  go  back  to  the  horse." 

"Well,  did  he  get  him?" 

"  No.  About  the  third  trip  the  bear  got  scared,  and 
ran  off  the  other  way.  But  that  wasn't  what  I  started 
in  to  tell  ye.  One  time  old  man  Campbell  and  another 
feller  was  out  in  the  mountains  huntin';  and  one  night 
they  camped  right  at  the  foot  of  a  rock  clif¥  about, — 
well,  I  don't  know  just  how  high  it  was.  In  the  morn- 
ing old  Jack  got  up  first,  built  up  a  big  log  fire,  and  put 


220  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

on  the  coffee-pot.  He  had  just  begun  to  cook  breakfast, 
when  a  little  bit  of  rock  fell  down,  and  made  him  look 
up.  Blamed  if  there  wasn't  a  good  big  grizzly  standin' 
on  the  top  of  the  rock  wall,  lookin'  down  over  the  edge, 
at  old  John  cookin'  his  breakfast. 

"  Quick  as  lightnin'  the  old  man  grabs  his  gun,  and 
sends  a  ball  into  the  bear;  and  blamed  if  the  bear  didn't 
come  tumblin'  down,  and  fall  plumb  into  the  camp-fire. 
The  coffee,  an'  ashes,  an'  fire  jest  flew;  and  the  grizzly 
jest  raised  Cain.  All  that  old  man  Campbell  thought 
about  was  that  good  bear-skin, — on  the  bear,- — about  to 
get  burnt  up!  He  dropped  his  gun,  rushed  up,  and 
begun  a-grabbin'  at  the  bear,  to  drag  him  out  of  the  fire! 
The  bear  was  only  half  dead,  and  he  grabbed,  and  clawed, 
and  bit  at  the  old  man,  all  the  time  the  old  man  was  grab- 
bin'  at  him,  and  fightin'  with  him  to  get  him  drug  outen 
the  fire  before  his  pelt  got  burnt.  The  old  man  never 
stopped  to  think  that  without  his  gun  in  his  hands  the 
bear  might  up  and  maul  him.  He  thought  he  must  get 
the  bear  out  first,  and  then  finish  a-killin'  him  afterward." 

As  John  reached  the  point  of  his  story,  all  uncon- 
sciously he  acted  out,  in  thrilling  style,  the  frantic  man- 
ner in  which  old  John  Campbell  grabbed  at  a  live 
grizzly,  to  pluck  him  as  a  brand  from  the  burning,  and 
save  his  vested  rights  in  a  twenty-dollar  hide.  It  sent  the 
audience  off  into  roars,  the  meaning  of  which  John  mis- 
took, for  he  hastened  to  add, 

"Oh,  that  happened,  all  right!  Mack  and  me  saw 
that  bear's  hide,  with  a  burnt  patch  on  the  back,  didn't 
we,  Mack!  " 


CHAPTER   XVI 

MORE  CAMP-FIRE  YARNS 

The  Charge  of  the  Duchess — The  Death  of  the  Duke  of  WeHington — 
The  Horror  of  the  Rocks — The  Sheep  that  Couldn't  be  Caught — 
The  Matches  that  Wouldn't  Light. 

On  several  occasions  I  had  heard  mention  of  a  nar- 
row escape  that  Mr.  Phillips  enjoyed  from  the  claws  of 
a  wounded  grizzly  bear;  and  in  the  leisure  hours  of  that 
rainy  day  in  camp,  it  occurred  to  me  to  draw  out  all  the 
facts  regarding  the  affair.    So  I  said: 

*'  John,  it  seems  to  me  that  in  spite  of  all  the  bear- 
killing  that  has  been  done  in  these  mountains,  there  have 
been  no  real  bear  scrapes,  such  as  some  men  are  always 
stirring  up." 

"  He  has  always  shot  so  well  there  hain't  been  any 
room  for  argument,"  said  Mack,  with  emphasis,  "  at 
least  not  more  than  that  one  time  with  the  Duchess." 

"  Did  the  Duchess  charge,  regularly?  " 

"  She  surely  did,"  said  Mr.  Phillips,  quietly,  "  and  I 
was  properly  scared,  too." 

"  How  did  it  happen  that  she  got  a  chance  at  you?  " 

"  It  was  all  on  account  of  Charlie's  dog,  the  great 
and  only  Kaiser." 

"  Aw,  shucksl  "  broke  in  Charlie,  warmly.    "  It  was 


222  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

all  on  account  o'  yer  bloomin'  old  camera,  that  you  made 
me  go  after!  " 

"  Well,  I  know  the  picture-machine  did  enter  in,  in 
a  way,  even  though  it  wasn't  there  at  the  finish.  It  was 
like  this: 

THE  CHARGE  OF  THE  DUCHESS 

"  In  the  last  week  of  May,  last  year,  we  were  hunt- 
ing bear  on  the  head  of  Wilson  Creek,  some  miles 
below  here.  We  located  a  grizzly  that  we  named  the 
Duke  of  Wellington;  and  being  unable  to  get  up  to  him, 
in  the  regular  way,  Charlie  was  commissioned  to  go  out 
to  the  nearest  settlement,  buy  an  old  horse,  bring  him 
in,  and  kill  him  for  bait.  I  started  out  to  go  part  way 
with  Charlie,  and  hunt  back  alone. 

"  About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  we  saw  a  silver- 
tip,  across  Wilson  Creek  up  on  a  snowslide,  about  four 
hundred  yards  away.  The  whole  mountain-side  was  cov- 
ered with  snow,  and  it  was  easy  to  make  a  silent  stalk, 
provided  the  ascent  was  not  too  steep.  Under  cover  of 
some  green  timber  I  crawled  to  within  three  hundred 
yards  of  the  bear,  and  let  go  a  shot.  It  went  too  low; 
but  with  a  quick  second  shot  I  rolled  her  over,  and  she 
came  down  the  slide  tumbling  over  and  over,  snow  and 
bear-paws  fairly  flying  through  the  air,  for  about  fifty 
yards.  There  she  stopped,  and  scrambled  to  her  feet, 
but  seemed  unable  to  go  farther  on  foot. 

"  '  Now,'  thought  I,  '  here  is  a  chance  to  get  pictures 
of  a  wounded  grizzly.'  So  I  yelled  to  Charlie  to  bring 
up  my  camera,  and  started  to  climb  up  close  to  the  bear. 


MORE    CAMP-FIRE    YARNS  223 

Half-way  up,  Kaiser,  sent  on  by  Charlie,  passed  me  and 
rushed  for  the  bear.  Charlie  yelled  to  me,  '  Shoot! 
Shoot,  or  she  will  get  away! ' 

"  When  the  row  began,  Charlie  was  three  hundred 
yards  below  me,  and  lost  time  in  getting  the  camera, 
but  as  soon  as  he  secured  it,  he  started  up  as  fast  as  the 
snow  would  let  him  come, 

*'  Up  to  that  time  the  bear  had  not  seen  us,  and  seem- 
ingly paid  no  special  attention  to  the  sound  of  the  gun. 
She  was  shot  too  low, — through  the  brisket  and  fleshy 
part  of  the  forelegs, — and  while  the  shock  had  knocked 
her  down,  the  only  special  result  was  to  throw  off  her 
safety  clutch,  and  start  her  machinery  working.  She 
evidently  thought  a  big  bug  had  bitten  her;  and  with 
her  head  turned  under  her  breast  she  was  looking  for  it. 

"  Kaiser  boldly  went  right  up  to  her,  and  when  he 
came  within  ten  feet  she  saw  him,  accepted  him  as  the 
author  of  her  trouble,  and  went  for  him  like  a  runaway 
car  on  an  incline  of  forty-five.  The  dog  immediately 
lost  all  interest  in  having  his  picture  taken  with  the  dead 
game,  turned  tail,  and  fled  down  the  slide.  He  came 
straight  for  me,  possibly  assuming  that  I  ought  to  pro- 
tect him;  and  the  bear  came  plunging  after  him.  She 
plunged  and  slid  on  the  snow  so  far  that  with  every  jump 
she  covered  about  twelve  feet,  and  threw  up  snow  like  a 
snow-plough. 

"  All  this  time,  the  dog  ran  straight  toward  me,  and 
I  couldn't  fire  at  the  bear  for  fear  of  killing  the  dog. 
It's  against  the  rules  to  kill  Kaiser,  ain't  it,  Charlie! 
There  wasn't  the  slightest  chance  for  me  to  fire,  and 


224  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

here  came  the  dog,  leading  that  wounded  bear  right 
down  upon  me,  as  fast  as  they  could  plunge.  For  a  time 
I  was  scared  stiff,  with  nothing  in  the  world  to  do  but 
stand  and  wait  for  a  chance  to  shoot.  I  remember  think- 
ing that '  no  matter  how  it  turns  out,  it's  great  to  see  that 
bear  come  tearing  down  that  snow-slide! ' 

"  Kaiser  ran  for  his  life,  looking  back  once  in  a  while, 
and  by  her  sliding  as  she  did,  the  grizzly  gained  upon 
him.  Finally,  when  within  twenty-five  yards  of  me, 
Kaiser  saw  that  in  one  more  jump  the  bear  would  grab 
him;  so  he  dove  off  to  one  side,  head  first,  into  a  clump 
of  bushes,  and  cleared  the  track.  Then  the  grizzly  saw 
me,  and  came  on  at  me,  straight  as  a  bullet.  As  quick  as  I 
could  I  aimed  just  below  her  left  eye  and  let  go.  It  was 
my  one  chance,  and  I  knew  that  if  I  missed  there  would 
be  a  bad  mix-up. 

"  My  trap-shooting  practice  stood  me  in  good  stead, 
for  that  bear's  head  certainly  was  a  flying  target.  But 
the  ball  struck  her  right,  exploded  in  her  head,  and  she 
pitched  forward  almost  upon  me,  so  dead  she  scarcely 
kicked. 

"  Charlie  was  still  far  below,  making  frantic  efforts 
to  get  up  and  into  the  scrape  with  his  new  six-shooter. 
He  ran  like  a  fairy  across  a  cracked  snow-bridge  over 
the  creek,  and  it  ma'de  me  laugh  to  see  the  holes  he 
punched  in  the  snow  as  he  came  up  the  slide.  He 
arrived  with  a  face  like  an  angry  father.  First  he  lect- 
ured me,  severely;  then  he  laughed;  then  he  thanked 
me  formally  and  politely,  for  not  shooting  the  bear 
through   Kaiser!     The  grizzly  was  a   female,   and  we 


MORE    CAMP-FIRE    YARNS  225 

named  her  the   Duchess.     She  was   not  as  big  as  the 
Duke  of  Wellington." 

''  Now,  Mack,"  said  Charlie  Smith,  as  Mr.  Phillips 
finished  his  narrative,  "  tell  'em  about  the  Duke  o'  Well- 
ington and  old  Blucher." 

DEATH  OF  THE  DUKE  OF  WELLINGTON 

"  Well,"  said  Mack,  slowly  and  bashfully,  "  we  shore 
hunted  that  old  Duke  for  a  long  time,  and  we  didn't  get 
him  at  all  as  we  expected.  As  Mr.  Phillips  said,  we 
were  powerful  anxious  to  bust  old  Duke,  for  he  was  the 
biggest  b'ar  we  ever  got  track  of  up  here." 

*'  Did  you  bait  him  with  an  old  horse,  as  first 
planned?  " 

"Yes;  and  it  never  took  a  trick.  The  b'ars  never 
went  nigh  it.  Could  they  smell  it?  Well,  I  should  say 
they  could.  We  could  smell  it  a  mile;  and  finally  we 
had  to  move  camp  on  account  of  it.  Somehow  a  b'ar 
never  means  to  do  what  you  want  him  to  do." 

A  long  pause. 

"  And  how  did  you  finally  outwit  the  Duke?  " 

"  Oh,  just  by  huntin'  for  him, — climbin'  and  huntin', 
early  and  late.  Late  one  afternoon  Mr.  Phillips  and 
myself  happened  to  spy  a  couple  of  old-timers  up  on  a 
mountain-side,  eatin'  their  supper  of  roots,  in  a  small, 
grassy  spot  in  a  bushy  slide.  They  were  across  Wilson 
Creek  from  us,  and  half  a  mile  up  a  steep  mountain.  I 
told  John  we'd  shore  have  to  pull  our  freight  quick  to 
get  them  b'ars  before  dark,  and  we  went  right  at  it." 


226  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

"  The  first  trouble  was  in  gettin'  across  the  creek, 
where  we  got  badly  mixed  up  in  a  willow  muskeg,  and 
nearly  bogged  down.  After  fightin'  the  brush  and  mud 
for  an  awful  long  time,  and  gettin'  mighty  hot  about  it, 
we  finally  got  over,  and  started  for  the  slide.  When  we 
reached  an  opening  we  looked  up,  but  the  b'ars  were 
gone. 

"  After  considerable  loud  talk,  and  plenty  o'  plannin', 
we  started  on  up.  We  hadn't  gone  far  when  we  found 
from  the  noise  that  the  old  gents  had  winded  us,  and 
rolled  their  tails  off  into  the  brush  at  one  side  of  the  slide. 
But  they  had  stopped,  and  although  we  could  hear  'em 
snortin'  and  snappin'  their  teeth,  we  just  couldn't  see  hide 
nor  hair  of  'em,  and  couldn't  get  any  sort  of  a  shot.  At 
last  I  did  manage  to  glimpse  'em  two  or  three  times,  but 
soon  after  that  they  hauled  ofif  into  heavy  timber. 

"  The  b'ars  started  climbin'  up,  and  having  nothing 
else  to  do,  we  climbed  after  them.  Finally  we  all  got 
plumb  tired,  and  concluded  it  would  pay  just  as  well  to 
sit  down  easy  like,  and  watch.  Unfortunately,  darkness 
was  almost  onto  us.  It  wasn't  long  before  old  Blucher 
poked  his  head  outen  the  edge  of  the  timber,  where  I 
could  see  him.  I  says  to  Mr.  Phillips,  '  Don't  you  see 
him?'  He  says,  'No,  I  can't.  It's  too  dark.'  I  was 
plumb  anxious  for  the  ball  to  open,  so  I  says,  '  John,  may 
I  shoot?  '    '  Yes!    Bust  him! '  says  John.    Bang! 

"  Down  went  old  man  Blucher,  hollerin'  and  bawlin', 
'  I'm  shot! '  And  then  Mr.  Phillips  caught  sight  of  the 
Duke,  and  passed  him  one.  He  hollered,  '  So  am  I! '  and 
away  the  two  of  'em  went,  rollin'  and  tearin'  down  the 


MORE    CAMP-FIRE    YARNS  227 

mountain,  bawlin'  and  bellerin'  like  two  mad  bulls.  Did 
you  ever  shoot  a  b'ar  and  have  it  roll  down  a  hill,  and 
holler?  Yes?  Well  we  started  down  after  'em.  I  re- 
marked to  Mr.  Phillips  that  they  were  very  tuneful  gents, 
thinking  probably  he  hadn't  noticed  it;  but  he  was  al- 
ready laughin'  fit  to  kill,  and  came  near  rolling  down  on 
the  Duke. 

"  Finally  John  M.  handed  the  Duke  two  more  .405 
soft-nosed  pills,  and  that  settled  him.  Then  we  started 
in  to  look  for  Blucher, — and  a  very  dangerous  thing  to 
do;  for  by  that  time  it  was  getting  dark,  and  even  in  day- 
light, tracking  up  a  wounded  grizzly  ain't  none  too  safe. 
But  we  couldn't  do  any  good  at  it,  so  we  lit  out  for  camp 
and  got  in  about  ten  o'clock." 

*'  Did  you  get  Blucher  the  next  day?  " 

"  No,  we  never  did  get  him.  It  rained  all  that  night, 
and  about  daylight  a  big  snow-storm  came  on,  and  we 
couldn't  track  Blucher,  nor  flush  him  a  little  bit." 

THE   HORROR  OF  THE  ROCKS 

"  I  think,"  said  I,  once  when  there  was  a  silence  that 
needed  breaking,  "  I'll  tell  you  a  joke  on  Charlie." 

Charlie  Smith  looked  at  me  quick  and  hard,  quite 
mystified. 

"  Just  before  we  left  Goat  Pass,  Charlie  and  I  once 
stopped  to  rest  on  the  steep  side  of  Bird  Mountain,  about 
half-way  up.  It  was  really  very  steep,  and  if  a  tenderfoot 
had  once  got  well  started  to  rolling,  he  would  have 
bowled  down  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  without  stopping. 


228  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

We  dug  our  heels  into  the  ground,  leaned  back  against 
the  mountain,  and  I  led  Charlie  into  telling  stories.  I 
got  him  to  tell  me  about  the  most  scary  things  that  ever 
happened  to  him  on  the  rocks, — how  the  recoil  of  his 
gun,  in  shooting  at  a  mountain  sheep,  nearly  knocked  him 
off  a  ledge  to  his  death;  how  he  and  Mack  caught  that 
first  mountain  goat  kid,  and  other  adventures. 

"  Well,  by  the  time  we  were  due  to  go  on,  Charlie's 
stories  had  scared  me  until  I  was  stiff  with  fright,  and  he 
came  very  near  having  to  carry  me  to  camp." 

"  Humph!  Well!  "  said  Charlie,  very  energetically, 
"  I'll  know  enough  next  time  not  to  tell  yarns  to  anybody 
while  I'm  on  a  mountain." 

What  I  told  the  boys  was  more  than  half  true. 
I  was  nerve-weary  that  day,  and  ankle-sore;  and  the 
stories  that  I  drew  out  of  my  companion  scared  me 
quite  as  ghost-stories  used  to  wreck  my  courage  when  I 
was  a  small  boy. 

The  horror  of  the  rocks  has  shaken  the  nerves  of 
many  a  stout-hearted  mountaineer,  long  after  the  event. 

Once  Charlie  Smith  and  his  former  partner,  dare- 
devil Jack  Lewis,  had  a  narrow  escape  from  a  tragedy  on 
the  crags  of  Sheep  Mountain.  Charlie  almost  slid  over 
the  edge  of  a  precipice,  with  Jack  close  by,  and  both  were 
as  badly  scared  as  these  bold  men  of  the  mountains  ever 
can  be.  That  night,  when  they  reached  their  cabin,  and 
went  to  bed  in  their  double  bunk,  to  sleep  the  sleep  of  the 
exhausted,  Charlie  was  suddenly  awakened  by  Jack,  who 
with  both  hands  seized  him  by  his  beard  and  hair,  and 
pulled  at  him  desperately. 


MORE    CAMP-FIRE    YARNS  229 

*'  I  surely  thought,"  said  Charlie,  "  that  Jack  would 
tear  the  very  face  off  of  me,  he  was  that  wild.  He  yelled, 
'  Charlie!  Charlie!'  and  we  rolled  and  tumbled  around 
in  that  bunk  until  I  thought  he  never  would  come  to  his 
senses.  Finally  I  yelled  at  him  so  loud  that  he  woke 
up,  panting  like  a  man  who  has  been  running.  When 
I  spoke  to  him,  and  asked  him  what  he  was  dreaming 
about  he  said,  '  My  God,  Charlie!  I  thought  you  were 
sliding  off  them  rocks  again,  and  I  was  tryin'  to  pull 
you  back.'  " 

"  Say,  Charlie,"  said  Mack,  "  what's  the  matter  with 
tellin'  how  you-all  came  to  scare  Jack  Lewis  that  way?  " 

"  Oh,  I've  told  that  before,  nearly  a  dozen  times," 
said  Smith,  with  an  air  of  strong  disapproval. 

"  Never  mind,  Charlie,"  said  Mr.  Phillips,  "  the  Di- 
rector has  never  heard  it,  and  I'd  like  to  hear  it  again 
myself." 

"  Go  on,  Charlie;  go  on," 

< 

THE   SHEEP   THAT   COULDN'T    BE   CAUGHT 

"  Well,"  said  Charlie,  more  cheerfully,  "  about  five 
years  ago  an  eastern  Sportsmen's  Association  offered  five 
hundred  dollars  for  a  live,  full-grown  mountain  sheep 
ram;  so  Jack  Lewis  and  I  secured  a  permit  from  the  gov- 
ernment and  started  out  to  land  that  five  hundred.  It  was 
in  January.  The  thermometer  was  away  below  zero,  and 
the  mountains  were  covered  with  snow  and  ice.  We  dis- 
covered a  band  of  sheep  high  up  on  a  wind-swept  ridge 
of  Sheep  Mountain,  and  tried  to  drive  them  down  into 


230  CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

the  deep  snow,  where  we  could  rope  them ;  but  the  sheep 
were  contrary,  and  took  to  the  crest;  and  of  course  Jack 
and  I  followed  them. 

"  We  had  just  reached  the  very  top  of  the  mountain  ' 
when  I  slipped  and  fell,  and  started  to  slide  down,  with 
the  Elk  River  Valley  as  my  nearest  stopping-place." 

"  What  did  you  think,  Charlie,  as  you  were  going 
down?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing  much,"  he  replied.  "  When  I  slipped 
and  fell,  I  knew  it  was  all  over  with  me  if  I  started  to  roll, 
or  failed  to  stop  myself  in  the  first  few  feet  of  my  slide. 
All  I  could  remember  in  the  shape  of  a  prayer  was '  Now 
I  lay  me  down  to  sleep,'  a  little  rhyme  my  mother  taught 
me  when  I  was  a  kid.  Just  as  I  was  sliding  over  the  edge 
of  the  clifif,  in  a  sitting  position  with  my  heels  digging 
hard  into  the  snow,  I  uncovered  a  trailing-juniper  bush, 
which  sprang  up  between  my  legs.  Well,  sir,  when  that 
bush  sprang  up,  I  embraced  it  like  a  long-lost  brother. 
It  stopped  me  all  right,  but  all  I  could  do  was  to  just  sit 
there,  with  my  legs  hanging  over  Kingdom  Come.  As 
quick  as  he  could,  old  Jack  threw  down  to  me  the  end  of 
one  of  the  ropes  we  had  brought  along  to  rope  the  sheep 
with,  and  he  snaked  me  back  to  the  top.  I  tell  you  I  was 
mighty  glad  to  shake  hands  with  him!  His  face  was  as 
white  as  a  sheet! 

"  Finally,  we  corralled  the  sheep  on  that  peak  just 
above  Pass  Creek.  The  top  of  the  peak  is  hollow,  and 
from  the  valley  it  looks  like  an  arm  chair  with  the  north 
side  cut  ofif  almost  square,  and  pitching  straight  down 
five  hundred  feet  or  more  toward  Pass  Creek.    We  made 


MORE    CAMP-FIRE    YARNS  231 

the  climb  from  below,  Jack,  who  is  perhaps  the  best 
mountaineer  in  British  Columbia  leading  the  way.  As 
soon  as  he  got  his  head  and  shoulders  above  the  seat  of 
the  chair  he  saw  a  big  ram  close  by,  and  prepared  to 
rope  him.  As  I  was  hanging  onto  the  icy  rocks  at  one  side, 
I  happened  to  cast  my  eyes  over  the  precipice,  plumb 
down  into  Pass  Creek.  The  sight  of  it  fairly  chilled 
the  marrow  in  my  bones,  and  brought  me  to  my  senses. 
I  yelled  out  to  Jack,  '  For  God's  sake,  Jack,  don't  rope 
that  sheep,  or  he'll  pull  us  both  ofif  the  mountain! '  At 
that.  Jack  pulled  up  short,  and  as  we  clung  to  the  rocks, 
the  sheep  stampeded.  But  the  sheep  couldn't  get  up  the 
back  or  over  the  arms  of  the  chair,  so  they  came  out  al- 
most over  the  top  of  Jack,  one  large  ewe  making  a  pass 
at  him  with  her  horns  as  she  went  by.  After  getting 
away,  all  the  sheep  ran  south  along  the  mountain,  with 
the  exception  of  the  old  ram,  who  circled  below  them  to 
the  north,  and  headed  for  Hornaday  Mountain.  He 
went  down  that  awful  mountain-side  just  a-tearin'.  As 
we  watched,  we  saw  him  plunge  into  a  patch  of  deep 
snow  in  Pass  Creek  and  go  plumb  out  of  sightl  Then 
we  thought  we  had  him. 

"  We  scrambled  down  from  the  crags,  and  as  soon  as 
it  was  safe  we  put  on  our  snow  shoes,  which  we  had  been 
carrying  on  our  backs  for  just  such  an  emergency.  As 
we  ran  down  to  the  creek,  with  Jack  Lewis  leading,  one 
of  his  shoes  came  off  and  he  turned  a  complete  somer- 
set, breaking  through  the  crust  and  disappearing  in  the 
deep  snow.  I  was  so  close  after  him  that  before  I  could 
stop  or  swerve  to  one  side,  I  piled  in  on  top  of  him.  When 


232  CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

we  finally  succeeded  in  getting  out,  the  old  ram  had 
broken  his  way  to  a  safe  footing  on  the  clififs  of  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  creek,  where  he  stopped  and  looked  back 
at  us. 

"  But  it  was  something  awful  the  way  that  sheep 
worked  to  get  through  that  snow.  It  was  six  or  eight 
feet  deep,  and  had  a  slight  crust  on  top.  He  would  leap 
clear  to  the  top  of  it,  strike  the  crust  with  his  breast  and 
send  the  pieces  flying,  forge  forward  a  few  feet,  then  sink 
again  out  of  sight  only  to  bob  up  once  more  and  try  it 
again." 

"  So  you  lost  him?" 

"  Sure.  But  we  caught  an  old  nanny  goat  that  was 
sheltering  in  a  cave,  and  hog-tied  her  without  hurting 
her.  We  were  too  exhausted  to  take  her  down  that  day, 
so  after  spending  the  night  very  miserably  by  a  little  fire 
under  the  clifif-wall  near  the  mouth  of  the  creek,  we 
climbed  up  the  next  morning  only  to  find  her  dead.  We 
thought  she  died  of  old  age,  she  was  so  very  old  and  thin, 
and  almost  toothless." 

Naturally,  one  tale  of  hardship  brought  forth  another. 
The  mountains  were  full  of  them.  The  very  creek  upon 
which  we  were  camped  had  been  the  scene  of  a  tragedy 
in  the  early  days.  Seven  white  prospectors  had  gone  in 
somewhere  very  near  to  where  we  then  were,  camped, 
and  never  were  heard  of  more.  Some  think  they  were 
killed  by  Indians;  but  they  may  all  have  been  buried 
under  a  great  snow-slide. 

Some  one  told  us  of  this  lonesome  tragedy: 


MORE    CAMP-FIRE    YARNS  233 

THE   MATCHES   THAT   WOULDN'T   LIGHT 

Up  in  the  edge  of  the  mountains,  twenty  miles  or 
so  above  the  Sulphur  Spring,  there  lived  alone,  in 
a  lonesome  little  cabin,  a  trapper  who  was  an  old 
man.  He  was  too  old  to  live  there  alone,  but  the  love 
of  the  life  was  strong  within  him,  and  he  was  quite 
content. 

One  bitter  cold  day  in  midwinter,  when  the  snow  lay 
a  foot  deep  on  the  trail,  he  shouldered  his  pack  of  flour 
and  cofifee,  and  set  out  from  the  cabin  of  Wild-Cat 
Charlie  to  go  to  his  own. 

The  labor  of  the  journey  at  last  proved  too  great  for 
him.  As  his  weary  steps  dragged  more  and  more  slowly 
through  the  snow,  the  cold  assailed  him  at  all  points. 
Two  miles  from  the  shelter  of  his  cabin,  he  threw  down 
his  pack.  A  mile  farther  on,  he  leaned  his  rifle  against 
a  tree  and  left  it.  Two  hundred  yards  from  his  cabin  he 
fell,  but  bravely  crawled  the  remaining  distance  on  his 
hands  and  knees. 

He  reached  his  cabin,  entered,  closed  the  door,  and 
whittled  some  shavings  with  which  to  kindle  his  fire. 
The  kindlings  and  the  dry  wood  all  were  there.  At  last 
everything  was  ready  for  the  match,  and  he  essayed  to 
strike  it. 

His  fingers  were  so  benumbed  by  minus  forty  degrees 
of  cold  that  they  were  like  sticks  of  wood.  The  first 
match  broke  short  ofif,  unlighted.  So  did  the  next,  and 
the  next,  and  the  next. 

It  was  beyond  his  power  to  strike  the  match  that 


234  CAMP-FIRES  IN   THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

would  have  started  the  fire  that  would  have  saved  his 
life.  Days  after,  he  was  found  lying  upon  the  floor,  on 
the  remains  of  the  matches  that  would  not  strike,  frozen 
as  hard  as  the  rocks  of  the  cruel  mountains  around  his 
lonely  cabin. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

A  GREAT  MOUNTAIN  SHEEP  HUNT 

Variations  in  Sheep  Hunring — Artistic  Value  of  Scenery  in  Hunting — 
John  Norboe's  Peril — Camp  Necessity — Remarkable  Goat  Licks — 
Sheep  Signs — A  Very  Long  Stalk — Attack  in  a  Wind  Storm — 
Misses  and  Hits — Mack  Norboe's  "Hungers" — Three  Dead  Rams 
— A  Night  of  Terror. 

"Though  far  be  the  glacier-filled  fountain, 
The  foot  of  the  hunter  is  free. 
Though  high  be  the  ram  on  the  mountain, 
The  hunter  climbs  higher  than  he." 

In  the  hunting  of  mountain  sheep  in  British  Colum- 
bia, there  are  many  variations.  In  the  south,  among  the 
house-roof  mountains,  it  is  possible  that  you  may  be  re- 
quired to  climb  very  high,  amid  real  perils  on  the  cliffs. 
You  may  make  tremendously  long  and  steep  climbs  with- 
out perils,  or  the  sheep  may  run  into  your  arms  at  an 
elevation  of  eight  thousand  feet,  as  did  the  pair  which 
Mr.  Phillips  photographed.  In  northern  British  Colum- 
bia and  Yukon  Territory,  you  can  find  sheep  on  low,  hill- 
like mountains  in  high  country;  or  you  may,  like  Charles 
Sheldon,  find  them  on  slide-rock  so  fearfully  steep  that 
you  cannot  measure  a  sheep,  even  after  you  have  killed  it. 

It  is  not  all  of  hunting  to  kill  game.  The  surround- 
ings, and  how  you  used  them  to  outwit  your  keen-eyed 

»35 


236  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

quarry,  sometimes  are  fully  as  interesting  as  the  game 
itself.  It  is  far  from  ideal  hunting  to  tramp  hour  after 
hour  through  a  monotonous,  brush-filled  forest,  "  head  " 
the  soggy-banked  ponds  and  flounder  through  bogs  for  a 
final  shot  at  a  moose  in  a  tangle  of  underbrush  so  thick 
you  can  see  through  it  only  a  few  yards.  It  takes  a 
mighty  fine  animal  to  compensate  one  for  mean  hunting- 
grounds. 

But  take  mountains  like  ours,  where  at  every  mile 
there  rises  around  you  a  new  cyclorama  of  crag  and  peak, 
ridge  and  valley,  timber,  slide  and  glacier,  and  it  takes 
a  fine  animal  to  draw  your  gaze  from  the  pictures!  To 
kill,  in  such  a  setting,  a  mountain  ram,  a  goat  or  a  grizzly 
bear  is  Hunting,  indeed.  With  all  her  bison  and  tigers, 
buffalo  and  bear,  India  has  nothing  like  it  south  of  the 
Himalayas,  not  even  in  the  Nilgiris.  Judging  by  a  thou- 
sand photographs,  I  should  say  that  with  all  her  multi- 
tudes of  big  game,  Africa  has  nothing  like  it,  anywhere. 
South  America  has  her  Andes,  but  alas!  they  are  deplor- 
ably barren  of  animal  life. 

To  one  who  has  seen  the  cyclorama,  and  the  dead 
game  lying  on  the  mountain — as  I  did, — Mr.  Phillips's 
hunt  for  mountain  sheep  in  the  Big  Bend  of  Avalanche 
Creek  was  a  fine  performance,  and  it  is  a  pleasure  to  help 
the  Reader  to  see  it  as  it  was.  It  fairly  illustrates  one 
phase,  and  a  difficult  one,  of  mountain  sheep  hunting  in 
those  precipitous  mountains. 

It  was  undertaken  for  the  special  purpose  of  procur- 
ing one  or  two  extra-fine  rams,  for  a  laudable  purpose, 
and  it  was  the  appearance  of  the  twelve  rams  on  the  sum- 


A   GREAT   MOUNTAIN   SHEEP   HUNT    237 

mit  sky-line  on  the  evening  of  September  15th  which  led 
the  hunters  into  that  particular  territory. 

John  Norboe  returned  from  a  look  into  that  region 
on  the  very  night  the  sheep  were  seen,  and  in  terse  but 
picturesque  language  he  impressed  his  hearers  with  the 
idea  that  it  was  a  bad  country  in  which  to  hunt.  Mack 
then  remarked,  with  emphasis, 

"  Well,  if  he  says  it's  bad  country,  you  kin  shore  set 
it  down  that  it's  a  terror  I  " 

Said  John,  "  Director,  I  was  in  a  place  this  afternoon 
that  I  don't  believe  you  would  be  willing  to  get  into  for 
a  million  dollars.  In  fact,  money  couldn't  hire  me  to  try 
it  again  myself.  I  started  to  climb  up  a  bad  place,  and 
when  I  got  away  up,  I  couldn't  go  on,  and  I  couldn't  get 
downl  For  a  while  I  just  hung  on,  and  wondered  how 
many  days  it  would  take  the  boys  to  find  my  body." 

"  And  how  did  you  get  out  of  it?  " 

"  Well,  at  last  I  managed  to  take  my  shoes  ofif,  and 
hang  'em  round  my  neck.  Then  I  hung  on  till  I  got  my 
nerve  back,  and  finally  I  managed  to  climb  on  up.  I 
haven't  been  so  skeered  in  years.  It's  lucky  I  didn't  have 
my  gun  with  me.    I'd  shore  a-dropped  it!  " 

This  was  the  country  south-east  of  Phillips  Peak. 

On  the  morning  of  the  i6th,  Mr.  Phillips  and  the  two 
Norboes  took  the  four-by-seven  silk  tent,  a  scanty  supply 
of  blankets  and  three  days'  rations,  and  marched  ofif  down 
Avalanche  Creek.  They  planned  to  strike  the  sheep 
country  from  the  south,  and  the  idea  was  right.  They 
tramped  down  Avalanche  Creek  to  where  it  strikes  Roth 
Mountain,  beyond  which  it  w^as  unexplored.    At  that 


238  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

point  it  turns  to  the  east,  in  a  right  angle,  and  in  the  bend 
of  this  elbow  rise  the  Phillips  Mountains.  From  that 
point  they  followed  the  stream  eastward,  crossed  some 
immense  rock  slides,  and  finally  entered  a  tract  of 
heavy,  moist  and  mossy  green  timber,  two  miles  long.  In 
the  centre  of  this  ribbon  of  timber,  they  found  the  tepee- 
poles  of  what  once  had  been  a  Stoney  Indian  camp;  and 
there  they  pitched  their  own  tiny  tent  for  two,  and  called 
the  place  "  Camp  Necessity." 

"  There  shore  must  be  game  about  here,"  said  John 
Norboe,  as  he  kicked  at  a  piece  of  mountain  sheep  skull. 
"  Injuns  hain't  been  campin'  here  for  fun." 

After  a  hasty  luncheon,  Mr.  Phillips  and  Mack  Nor- 
boe set  ofif  up  the  northern  mountains,  climbing  up  the 
face  of  a  lofty  ridge  that  rose  like  a  gigantic  roof  a  mile 
and  a  half  from  base  to  summit,  and  two  miles  long.  At 
its  western  end  this  ridge  terminates  against  a  towering 
peak,  with  perpendicular  walls.  The  eastern  end  stops 
abruptly  in  mid-air,  forming  a  commanding  point.  On 
the  southern  face  were  two  or  three  outcroppings  of  rock 
wall,  precisely  like  dormer  windows.  It  was  from  the 
eastern  point  of  this  ridge  that  Charlie  Smith  and  I  saw 
a  very  spectacular  bear-hunt  a  little  later  on,  when  I  came 
to  know  all  that  ground  very  well.  This  ridge  is  de- 
scribed because  it  presently  became  a  storm-centre  of  some 
magnitude. 

In  climbing  the  ridge,  the  hunters  steered  well  toward 
the  west,  in  order  to  strike  the  cliffs  that  rose  from  that 
extremity.  Half  a  mile  up,  they  found  the  most  exten- 
sive series  of  goat-licks  that  were  seen  on  our  whole  trip. 


A  GREAT   MOUNTAIN   SHEEP   HUNT    239 

They  were  situated  in  a  scattered  clump  of  stunted 
spruces,  toward  which  well-worn  goat-trails  led  from 
various  directions.  The  earth  was  sufficiently  impreg- 
nated with  mineral  salts  that  the  goats — and  sheep,  also, 
beyond  a  doubt — were  very  fond  of  it. 

The  animals  had  dug  under  the  roots  of  ten  or  a  dozen 
spruce  trees  until  they  were  undermined  by  great  cavities, 
and  the  large  roots,  exposed  in  mid-air,  looked  like  the 
bodies  of  boa  constrictors  and  pythons.  The  rough  bark 
of  the  spur-roots  was  covered  with  fine,  soft  white  hair 
which  plainly  told  the  species  of  earth-eater  most  in  evi- 
dence. The  goats  had  worked  under  the  trees  because 
the  earth  was  more  moist  there,  and  their  mining  opera- 
tions were  not  disturbed  by  the  sliding  snow  and  rocks 
that  annually  assailed  the  unprotected  surfaces  of  the 
mountain.  The  zeal  and  industry  of  the  animals,  and 
their  strength  also,  was  amazingly  portrayed.  They  had 
dug  out  and  thrown  aside  quantities  of  stones,  which 
had  rolled  down  the  mountain  side,  and  the  whole  place 
looked  as  disturbed  and  bare  as  if  it  had  lately  been 
worked  over  with  mattock  and  rake.* 

Mr.  Phillips's  excellent  photograph  of  one  of  the 
goat-workings  under  a  spruce  tree  is  shown  herewith. 
These  goat-licks  are  fairly  common  throughout  the  moun- 

*  In  1902,  Messrs.  G.  O.  Shields  and  W.  H.  Wright  found  on  the  west 
fork  of  the  north  branch  of  the  Athabasca  River  a  goat-lick  of  still  greater  pro- 
portions than  those  described  above.  Trails  lead  to  it  from  a  radius  of  five 
miles.  A  cut  bank  fifteen  feet  high  has  been  eaten  avpay,  until  trees  and  large 
stones  have  been  undermined  and  thrown  down  the  mountain-side.  A  man 
can  ride  on  horseback  behind  some  of  the  roots  now  exposed.  The  earth  is 
described  as  a  light,  chalky  clay. 


240  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

tains  of  British  Columbia.  There  is  one  within  two  miles 
of  Charlie  Smith's  ranch  on  Elk  River. 

On  reaching  the  summit  of  the  lofty  ridge,  the  hunters 
found  themselves  at  the  foot  of  an  unscalable  wall  be- 
tween two  hundred  and  three  hundred  feet  high,  with  a 
slide-rock  basin  beyond,  another  transverse  ridge  beyond 
that,  and  no  sheep  in  sight.  On  the  north  side,  their  first 
ridge  dropped  away  very  steeply  to  a  V-shaped  valley 
and  a  creek.  The  great  ridge  that  rose  beyond  that  was 
even  taller  than  that  on  which  they  stood;  and  creek 
and  ridge  swung  around  the  eastern  end  of  ridge  No.  i 
at  very  nearly  a  right  angle,  debouching  into  Avalanche 
Valley  half  a  mile  below  the  new  camp.  The  summit 
of  Ridge  No.  i  reminded  me  so  much  of  the  business 
centre  of  a  cyclorama  that  I  named  it  that,  and  called 
its  eastern  terminus  Cyclorama  Point. 

Two  other  interesting  incidents  marked  Mr.  Phillips's 
first  afternoon  on  Cyclorama  Ridge.  One  was  a  goat  per- 
formance, the  other  the  discovery  of  good  mountain  sheep 
signs.  The  former  is  thus  described  in  detail  by  Mr. 
Phillips: 

"  On  rounding  a  small  cliff  that  broke  out  of  the  side 
of  the  mountain,  we  discovered  about  fifty  yards  away 
to  our  left,  a  nanny  goat,  a  yearling  billy  and  a  kid.  In 
Mack  Norboe's  mountain  language  he  called  them  an 
old  lady,  a  little  billy  and  a  goatee.  As  goats  are  always 
interesting  to  me,  on  account  of  their  propensity  for 
doing  queer  things,  we  sat  down  to  watch  them. 

"  They  had  not  seen  us,  and  the  old  mother  was  busy 
licking  the  fac^  of  the  cliff.     Perhaps  she  was  finding 


A   GREAT   MOUNTAIN   SHEEP   HUNT    241 

something  alkaline.  The  young  billy  was  growing  his 
first  whiskers,  and  in  a  dignified  manner  he  resented  cer- 
tain playful  advances  on  the  part  of  the  kid. 

"After  we  had  watched  them  for  some  time,  the 
mother-goat  winded  us,  and  after  a  mild  stare  in  our 
direction,  started  up  the  apparently  vertical  cliff,  the 
young  billy  following  her.  The  kid,  not  knowing  of  our 
presence,  and  being  deserted  by  its  mother,  immediately 
set  out  on  its  own  account  to  climb  up  a  perpendicular 
chimney  in  the  wall.  The  crack  was  about  four  feet  wide, 
and  inasmuch  as  there  were  no  footholds  discernible  from 
where  we  stood,  we  expected  to  witness  the  ultimate 
downfall  of  the  kid. 

"  The  little  fellow  bounced  nimbly  from  side  to  side, 
making  jumps  from  two  to  three  feet  high.  When  about 
twenty-five  feet  up  he  made  a  spring  across,  struck  on  an 
apparently  smooth  wall,  and  seemed  to  lose  his  footing. 
The  most  surprising  thing  was  that  he  shoved  himself 
backward  with  his  front  feet,  and  alighted  safely  on  the 
invisible  foothold  which  he  had  left  four  feet  below.  He 
then  bounced  down  from  side  to  side,  like  a  rubber  ball, 
galloped  like  a  hobby-horse  under  the  base  of  the  cliff, 
and  scrambled  up  after  his  mother  and  older  brother. 

"  When  we  arose  and  walked  to  the  goats'  point  of 
departure,  they  looked  down  upon  us  from  the  cliff,  with 
the  indifference  of  conscious  security.  We  were  no 
doubt  the  first  human  beings  they  had  ever  seen,  and 
of  course  they  regarded  us  with  curiosity.  Possibly 
they  thought  we  were  bears  of  a  new  species,  walking 
upright." 


242  CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

Quite  near  to  the  haunt  of  the  goats,  the  hunters  dis- 
covered four  or  five  wild-animal  beds  which  Mack 
thought  had  been  made  by  sheep.  This  belief  was  con- 
firmed by  the  finding  of  some  sheep  hair.  From  the 
character  of  the  spot,  and  the  absence  of  protecting  cliffs, 
the  sheep  sign  was  supposed  to  represent  a  band  of  ewes, 
until  presently  the  hunters  found  unmistakable  evidence 
of  the  recent  presence  of  a  band  of  large  rams,  which 
evidently  had  lived  for  some  weeks  in  that  neighborhood. 
The  contiguous  ridges  and  slides  were  carefully  exam- 
ined, but  no  sheep  were  seen  that  day,  and  at  nightfall 
the  hunters  returned  to  the  little  pulpit-like  spot  in  the 
green  timber  whereon  John  Norboe  had  with  great  pains 
made  a  camp  close  beside  an  old  Indian  trail. 

On  the  following  morning  the  sheep-hunt  opened 
early  and  with  vigor.  The  three  hunters  packed  their 
entire  outfit  upon  their  backs,  and  set  out  to  make  a  hunt 
up  the  newly-found  creek, — which  later  on  for  a  good 
reason  they  elected  to  call  Grizzly  Creek, — and  camp 
well  northward  of  its  valley.  They  started  up  that  creek 
from  its  mouth,  half  a  mile  below  their  camp,  but  had  not 
gone  more  than  a  mile  through  its  tangle  of  down  timber 
when  they  discovered  their  long-lost  band  of  rams.  They 
were  on  the  western  face  of  Cyclorama  Ridge,  under  a 
point  which  sheltered  them  from  the  wind,  and  the  wind 
was  blowing  half  a  gale  from  the  hunters  perilously  near 
the  sheep. 

The  plan  of  the  hunt  was  quickly  formed.  John  Nor- 
boe was  sent  down  to  Avalanche  Creek,  with  all  the  outfit. 
Mr.  Phillips  and  Mack  stripped  for  a  strenuous  effort, 


A   GREAT   MOUNTAIN   SHEEP   HUNT    243 

and  mapped  out  a  long  and  severe  detour  to  the  east- 
ward, away  from  the  sheep,  and  around  them.  The  cir- 
cuit they  actually  made  took  them  up  to  the  top  of  the 
eastern  mountain,  northward  under  the  shelter  of  its  crest 
for  two  miles,  then  a  long  swing  westward  into  the  valley 
of  Grizzly  Creek.  After  that  they  climbed  southward  to 
the  top  of  Cyclorama  Ridge,  and  at  last,  after  a  four-mile 
struggle,  stood  above  their  quarry  and  dead  to  leeward  of 
it.  In  looking  over  the  summit,  they  were  rejoiced  to 
find  that  the  sheep  had  not  moved. 

Keeping  well  below  the  crest  of  the  ridge,  the  hunters 
moved  eastward  until  they  reached  their  chosen  line  of 
approach,  then  began  to  work  downward  under  cover 
of  some  stunted  spruces  and  aspens.  When  they  gained 
the  high,  dormer-window  point  under  which  the  sheep 
had  been  seen,  the  gale  was  so  strong  that  it  was  almost 
impossible  to  face  it.  It  was  laden  with  so  much  dust 
that  had  been  swept  off  the  rocks,  that  Mr.  Phillips's 
eyes  watered  so  copiously  he  could  scarcely  see.  They 
could  hear  dead  timber  crashing  down  in  Avalanche  Val- 
ley, and  the  quaking-asps  around  them  were  whipped 
almost  to  the  ground. 

Finally  a  fierce  gust  of  wind  bent  down  a  clump  of 
bushes  in  such  a  manner  that  a  massive  pair  of  ram's  horns 
stood  revealed  to  the  anxious  eyes  of  the  searchers,  and 
only  seventy-five  yards  away!  The  next  instant,  the 
bushes  sprang  up  again  and  masked  the  quarry.  Then 
Mr.  Phillips  trained  his  rifle  to  bear  on  the  spot  desired, 
and  waited  for  another  gust.  It  came;  the  bushes 
gave  way  for  an  indistinct  glimpse,  and  Mr.  Phillips 


244  CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

fired  at  the  ram's  shoulder.  This  is  the  hunter's  own 
account  of  what  followed : 

"  At  the  roar  of  the  gun,  the  sheep  broke  away  in  all 
directions.  Three  ran  south-west,  across  the  slide  and  up 
the  next  ridge.  I  thought  that  the  leading  ram  was  the 
one  at  which  I  had  shot.  As  he  ran,  I  fired  three  more 
shots  at  him;  but  the  wind  either  swayed  me  or  drifted 
my  bullets,  for  they  only  threw  up  dust  beside  him.  After 
missing  three  times,  I  realized  that  I  must  get  him  with 
the  fourth  and  last  shot,  or  not  at  all;  so  I  quickly  sat 
down,  took  a  knee-rest,  and  held  to  the  left.  With  that 
shot  I  hit  him  high  up  in  the  shoulders,  striking  the 
spinal  column,  and  killing  him  instantly.  Fortunately 
he  rolled  only  once,  and  lodged  against  a  stump. 

"  While  reloading  my  gun  I  sat  watching  the  two 
three-year-old  companions  of  my  big  ram,  which  were 
making  frantic  leaps  up  the  ridge  toward  the  high  peak. 
Just  as  I  finished  loading,  I  heard  Mack  yelling  in  great 
excitement,  fifty  yards  below  me,  'Jack!  Jack!  Run 
here,  quick.    Two  hungers! '  " 

Mack  and  Charlie  always  speak  of  rams  with  big 
horns  as  "  hungers  " — a  very  convenient  term  when  breath 
is  scarce,  and  rams  are  running. 

*'  Running  at  top  speed  down  the  point,  I  soon  saw 
two  large  rams,  two  hundred  yards  away.  They  were 
running  north,  through  a  patch  of  burned  timber,  quak- 
ing-asp and  willows,  which  made  it  very  difficult  to  get 
any  kind  of  a  shot.  The  speed  with  which  those  rams 
bounded  over  the  down  timber  and  brush  was  really 
wonderful.    They  seemed  scarcely  to  touch  the  ground. 


Mr.    Phillips's   Finest    Mountain   Sheep 

("  The  Carnegie  Ram.") 


A   GREAT   MOUNTAIN   SHEEP   HUNT    245 

and  their  white  rump-patches  gave  them  the  appear- 
ance of  two  large  pieces  of  paper  blown  along  by  the 
wind. 

"  The  rearmost  ram  carried  the  larger  horns,  and  at 
him  I  fired  three  shots,  but  without  result.  Again  I  sat 
down,  and  holding  high  above  the  white  patch  on  the 
seat  of  his  pants,  fired  again,  just  as  he  disappeared  in  a 
patch  of  green  timber. 

"  There  were  originally  eight  rams  in  that  herd,  and  of 
these,  Norboe  had  seen  two  run  down  toward  the  creek. 
Immediately  following  my  first  shots,  the  herd  had  di- 
vided into  three  groups,  which  fled  in  three  directions. 
After  the  excitement  was  over,  I  proceeded  to  make  ex- 
planations to  Mack,  to  account  for  the  firing  of  nine 
shots  and  a  score  of  only  one  ram.  The  old  fellow  looked 
at  me  with  a  merry  glint  in  his  keen  gray  eyes,  and  handed 
me  my  hunting-shirt. 

"  '  You  and  your  big  gun  shorely  had  a  full-grown 
time  stampedin'  them  sheep,  and  shootin'  ofif  a  whole  lot 
o'  timber.' 

"  This  observation  was  at  the  expense  of  my  .405- 
calibre  gun.  Mack  being  an  advocate  of  the  .33  high- 
power  gun.  '  Them  cannon  guns,'  he  once  said  to  me, 
*  gives  me  the  buck  fever  whenever  I  unlimbers  'em, 
thinkin'  of  the  roar,  and  the  kick  that's  comin'!  When 
you  shoots  standin',  they  shoves  you  around  like  a  monkey 
on  a  stick;  and  if  you  sets  down  and  turns  'em  loose,  they 
move  a  feller  along  the  ground  so  quick  that  it  ain't 
pleasant.  If  you're  lucky  enough  to  hit  your  game,  it 
tears  his  hide  open;  besides  which,  them  big  explosions 


246  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

blasts  down  the  standin'  scenery,  and  scares  the  rest  of  the 
game  plumb  outen  the  country.' 

"  Presently  John  Norboe  joined  us,  and  together  we 
climbed  up  the  point  to  the  body  of  the  ram  which  I 
had  killed.  We  photographed,  measured,  skinned  and 
weighed  him.  His  horns  measured  fifteen  and  one-half 
inches  in  basal  circumference,  and  his  weight  on  the 
director's  scales  was  two  hundred  and  eighty-five  pounds. 
All  this  time  the  wind  poured  a  strong  blast  along  the 
side  of  the  mountain.  After  we  had  finished  our  work, 
John  Norboe  took  the  skin,  with  the  unskinned  head 
attached,  and  a  small  quantity  of  meat,  and  started  for 
camp,  while  Mack  and  I  set  out  to  investigate  my  bad 
shooting. 

"  On  visiting  the  spot  whereon  Ram  No.  i  had  stood 
when  I  fired  at  him,  we  were  surprised  to  find  blood. 
This  we  trailed  up,  around  the  rocky  point  from  which 
I  had  fired,  and  soon  found  where  the  sheep  had  fallen 
and  started  to  roll.  We  found  him  far  down,  lying  dead 
within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  brook,  where  he  had 
lodged  against  a  stout  young  quaking-asp.  He  was  the 
leader  of  the  band,  we  thought,  and  the  others  which 
ran  north  had  hesitated  after  he  was  stricken,  thus  giving 
me  a  chance  to  fire  at  them,  also. 

"  This  sheep  was  a  much  larger  ram  than  the  first 
one.  He  was  forty-one  inches  high  at  the  shoulders,  the 
way  Mr.  Hornaday  measures  animals,  with  the  elbow 
pushed  up,  and  he  weighed  three  hundred  and  sixteen 
pounds.  He  was  the  largest  ram  I  ever  killed,  or  saw, 
although  at  that  time  he  was  not  in  fat  condition.    We 


A   GREAT   MOUNTAIN   SHEEP   HUNT    247 

thought  that  had  he  lived  he  would  have  put  on  another 
thirty  or  forty  pounds  by  the  time  severe  winter  weather 
set  in.  My  bullet  struck  him  just  behind  the  shoulder, 
ranged  back  through  his  stomach,  and  passed  out  on  the 
opposite  side. 

"  After  that  we  climbed  up  to  see  what  had  become 
of  my  third  ram,  and  were  very  much  surprised  at  find- 
ing him  lying  dead!  I  had  killed  my  legal  limit  of 
mountain  sheep,  which  was  one  more  than  I  had  in- 
tended! This  one  was  five  years  old,  with  horns  already 
fifteen  and  one-half  inches  in  circumference,  and  his  gross 
weight  was  two  hundred  and  eighty-seven  pounds. 

*'  I  felt  very  badly  over  this  sheep,  for  I  had  intended 
to  kill  only  two,  one  for  the  Carnegie  Museum,  and  an- 
other for  the  director.  But  there  was  no  time  to  spend 
on  the  mountain  in  regrets.  Our  long  stalk,  and  the  work 
afterward  on  the  rams,  had  carried  us  well  toward  the 
close  of  the  day.  By  that  time  the  wind  had  abated,  it 
was  raining  softly,  and  almost  dark.  Packing  up  all  the 
meat  we  could  carry.  Mack  and  I  laboriously  worked 
our  way  down  to  Avalanche  Creek,  to  the  new  camp 
which  John  had  made. 

*'  That  was  a  damp  and  gloomy  spot;  and  we  named 
it  Camp  Necessity.  We  were  profoundly  tired,  and 
ravenously  hungry — having  had  no  mid-day  bite;  but  the 
delicious  mutton  chops  which  John  Norboe  had  ready 
for  us  soon  put  us  at  peace  with  all  the  world. 

"  But  not  for  long;  for  that  proved  to  be  a  fearful 
night.  It  rained  all  night,  and  nearly  drowned  us  out; 
but  that  was  not  the  worst  of  it.    The  wind  increased  in 


248  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

violence,  and  came  roaring  down  the  narrow  valley  until 
the  trees  rocked  under  its  force,  and  many  tree-tops  were 
snapped  off  and  hurled  to  the  ground.  I  could  feel  roots 
moving  under  our  bed  of  boughs,  like  great  snakes 
writhing,  and  was  thoroughly  afraid  that  a  tree-top, 
or  a  tree,  would  be  snapped  ofif  and  sent  crashing  down 
upon  us. 

"  At  last  I  got  so  nervous  I  could  lie  still  no  longer, 
and  crawled  out  of  the  tiny  tent,  ostensibly  to  mend  the 
fire.  John  Norboe  occupied  my  canvas  sleeping-bag, 
outside. 

"  *  Have  you  got  a  pipeful  of  tobacco,  John?  '  I  asked, 
for  the  sole  purpose  of  rousing  him  a  bit. 

"  *  No,  I  hain't,'  said  John,  '  but  I  know  what's  the 
matter  with  you! ' 

"  '  Well,  what?  ' 

"  '  You're  scared/ ' 

"  '  Well,  so  are  you!  * 

"  '  Say,  Mr.  Phillips,  does  this  sleepin'  bag  o'  yourn 
ever  leak? ' 

"'No.    Why?' 

"  *  Becos  it's  full  o'  water  that's  run  in  at  the  top,  and 
I've  been  a-hopin'  it  would  run  out  below.' 

"  But  at  last  the  long  night  wore  away  without 
accident." 

Two  days  later  I  assisted  in  working  up  those  three 
fine  specimens,  especially  in  the  work  on  the  heads.  In 
fact,  I  may  say  I  was  chief  mourner;  but  it  was  a  task 
of  great  interest,  as  will  be  noted  elsewhere. 


The   Brooklyn    Ram,    Thirty    Minutes   After   Death 

(Slightly  distended  by  gas.) 


A   GREAT   MOUNTAIN   SHEEP   HUNT    249 

DIMENSIONS  AND  WEIGHT  OF  MOUNTAIN  SHEEP  RAMS 
SHOT   BY   JOHN   M.   PHILLIPS,  SEPTEMBER  19,  1905 


No.  I,  for 
Carnegie 
Museum. 


No.  2,  for 
Brooklyn 
Museum. 


Age 

Height  at  shoulders 
Length  of  head  and  body 
Girth,  behind  foreleg     . 
"       at  middle  of  body 

at  loins 
Circumference  of  fore  leg,  at  elbow 

"               "  hind  leg,  at  knee 
Distance  from  elbow  to  head  of  femur 
Circumference  of  neck,  at  throat 
Point  of  shoulder  to  rear  of  rump 
Weight  by  scales 


I3yrs. 
41  in. 

69" 

53" 

Sir 

54" 

13" 
<< 

27" 

316  lbs. 


loyrs. 
40  in. 
681" 

52" 
60*" 
48" 
12  " 
21  " 

33" 

24" 

44" 

285  lbs. 


*  This  extra  large  measurement  probably  was  due  to  gas. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

MOUNTAIN  SHEEP  NOTES 

The  Culminating  Point  of  a  Species — Measurements  of  Record  Heads 
— Range  of  the  Big-Horn — The  White  Sheep — The  Black  Sheep — 
Fannin's  Sheep — Fighting  Noses  of  our  Specimens — Reinforce- 
ment of  the  Neck — Captain  RadcHfFe's  Opinion  About  Broken  Tips 
— Measurements  of  our  Sheep — Comparative  Dimensions  of  Sheep, 
Goat  and  Mule  Deer — Comparison  of  Sheep  and  Goat — Enemies 
of  Mountain  Sheep — Impending  Extinction  in  British  Columbia. 

Mr.  Phillips's  mountain  sheep  rams  were  to  all  of 
us  specimens  of  great  interest.  All  three  were  carefully 
measured  and  weighed,  and  the  skins  of  all  were  saved 
entire,  for  mounting.  The  oldest  and  largest  ram,  and 
the  five-year-old,  were  presented  by  Mr.  Phillips  to  the 
Carnegie  Museum  at  Pittsburg,  and  the  second  in  size 
was  given  to  me,  for  presentation  to  the  Brooklyn  Insti- 
tute Museum. 

American  literature  is  not  so  much  overburdened 
with  information  regarding  the  mountain  sheep  of  North 
America  that  I  need  apologize  for  noting  here  a  few  of 
the  most  important  facts  regarding  that  group  of  animals. 
Be  it  known,  therefore,  that  it  is  in  the  very  locality  in 
which  we  then  found  ourselves — southeastern  British 
Columbia, — that  the  true  Rocky  Mountain  Big-Horn, 
(now  Ovis  canadensis,  but  for  eighty  years  called  Ovis 

montana) ,  reaches  its  maximum  development. 

250 


MOUNTAIN    SHEEP   NOTES  251 

The  culminating  point  of  any  important  species,  or 
the  locality  in  which  it  grows  largest  and  carries  the 
largest  horns,  is  a  very  interesting  item  of  its  life  history. 
For  the  past  five  years,  or  thereabouts,  we  have  known 
that  throughout  the  wide  range  of  the  Big-Horn, — let  us 
say  from  the  Grand  Canyon  of  the  Colorado  to  the  Liard 
River,  a  distance  of  two  thousand  miles, — the  largest 
horns  come  from  southeastern  British  Columbia  and 
southwestern  Alberta,  within  a  radius  of  two  hundred 
miles  of  Banfif.  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  measuring, — 
in  the  severest  manner  possible  in  taking  such  dimen- 
sions,— several  very  fine  heads  owned  by  personal  friends, 
to  which  I  can  add  the  splendid  head  procured  for  me 
in  Banff  by  Mr.  G.  O.  Shields.  The  circumference 
measurements  of  these  specimens  were  taken  in  as  perfect 
a  plane  as  if  each  horn  had  been  cut  in  two  with  a  saw  on 
the  line  of  the  tape;  and  there  is  no  better  place  in  which 
to  place  them  before  the  Reader  than  here. 

A  "  record  head  "  of  a  big-game  animal  is  one  which 
by  reason  of  its  commanding  proportions  and  superior 
qualities  is  entitled  to  a  place  in  every  printed  list  of  heads 
or  horns  which  undertakes  to  set  forth  the  finest  existing 
specimens  of  that  species.  A  record  head  is  not  neces- 
sarily the  largest  head  "  on  record."  Usually,  it  is  an 
impossibility  to  find  "  the  finest  head  in  the  world  "  of 
any  given  species,  because  so  many  qualities  enter  in  for 
judgment  that  it  is  almost  impossible  for  any  one  speci- 
men to  combine  all  of  them.  As  a  rule,  the  longest  horns 
lack  massiveness,  and  the  thickest  horns  lack  in  length. 
Real  grandeur  is  not  often  attainable  by  mere  attenuation. 


252  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

Massiveness,  symmetry,  texture  and  color  are  not  to  be 
ignored  for  the  sole  sake  of  inches  on  the  tape. 

All   the   heads   listed   below   are,   in   my  judgment, 


w 

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dry 

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record  heads,  i.  e.,  worthy  of  being  recorded  with  the 
world's  best  heads  of  their  respective  species.  To  those 
who  desire  to  make  comparisons  between  heads  of  Big- 


MOUNTAIN    SHEEP   NOTES  q.S3 

Horn  Sheep,  here  is  a  simple  rule  by  which  to  reduce 
each  pair  of  horns  to  exact  terms: 

Add  together  (i)  the  basal  circumference,  (2)  the 
circumference  18  inches  from  the  base,  (3)  the  circum- 
ference one  inch  from  the  tip,  and  (4)  the  length  on  the 
outer  curve;  and  divide  their  sum  by  4. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  all  sheep  horns  shrink 
in  circumference  with  age.  A  large  horn  will  in  two 
years'  drying  shrink  nearly  or  quite  an  inch  in  basal 
circumference;  and  there  is  no  way  to  prevent  it,  in  a 
mounted  specimen. 

North  America  contains  six  species  of  mountain 
sheep,  which  form  two  fairly  distinct  branches  of  the 
genus  Ovis.  The  Big-Horn  (O.  canadensis)  forms  the 
stem  of  the  first,  and  from  it  branch  off  the  Mexican 
Sheep  (O.  mexicanus)^  of  northern  Mexico,  and  Nel- 
son's Sheep  (O.  nelsoni)^  of  southern  California. 

The  stem  of  the  other  branch  is  formed  by  the  White 
Sheep  (O.  dalli)^  and  its  branches  consist  of  Fannin's 
Sheep  (O.  fannini,  if  it  survives)  and  the  Black  Sheep 
(O.  stonei) . 

It  is  interesting  to  note  how  much  more  persistent 
in  its  desire  to  migrate  is  the  mountain  sheep  (genus) 
than  the  mountain  goat.  Here  in  British  Columbia 
we  found  them  inhabiting  the  same  mountains,  and 
on  September  11  we  actually  saw  sheep  and  goats  in 
the  same  moment.  In  its  eastward  range,  the  goat 
now  stops  at  St.  Mary's  Lakes,  on  the  eastern  slope 
of  the  Rockies,  in  Northwestern  Montana,  but  the 
mountain  sheep  goes  four  hundred  and  seventy  miles 


254  CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

farther,  to  the  Little  Missouri  River,  in  western  North 
Dakota. 

In  going  southward,  the  goat  halted  at  the  Teton 
Mountains,  Wyoming;  but  the  mountain  sheep  has  gone 
on  to  the  lakes  of  Santa  Maria  in  Chihuahua,  Mexico, 
and  southwestward  to  the  lower  end  of  the  Lower  Cali- 
fornia Peninsula. 

As  the  Big-Horn  goes  northward,  it  is  finally  replaced 
in  northern  British  Columbia  by  the  Black  Sheep  {Ovis 
stonei)j  a  species  which  as  yet  is  but  little  known  outside 
the  basin  of  the  Stickine  River,  and  the  mountains  which 
surround  it.  It  is  now  certain,  however,  thanks  to  the 
explorations  of  Mr.  Charles  Sheldon,  that  the  range  of 
the  latter  species  extends  northward  from  the  Stickine 
River  to  the  Macmillan  River,  in  latitude  63°.  Just 
where  the  Black  Sheep  and  Big-Horn  come  together,  no 
one  is  as  yet  able  to  say;  but  it  is  very  probable  that  the 
extreme  northern  and  western  boundaries  of  the  latter 
species  will  shortly  be  determined. 

The  White  Sheep  (Ovis  dalli)^  has  been  observed  as 
far  south  as  the  Schesley  Mountains,  the  first  range  north 
of  the  Stickine  River.  This  means  that  in  the  south- 
eastern portion  of  its  range,  the  White  Sheep  is  found  in 
the  territory  of  the  Black  Sheep.  It  is  impossible  to  pur- 
sue this  point  any  farther  without  forestalling  the  publi- 
cation of  the  results  of  Mr.  Charles  Sheldon's  very  valu- 
able scientific  explorations,  and  studies  of  mountain  sheep 
in  some  hitherto  unknown  portions  of  the  great  Yukon 
Territory.  If  Ovis  fannini  is  eventually  abandoned,  as  a 
distinct  form,  the  author  will  be  consoled  by  the  knowl- 


A    Prize   Big-Horn   Head 

Taken  near   PanfF,  Alberta,   in   1903.       No.  5  in  list  on   page  252. 


Head   of  a   Black    Mountain   Sheep,  {Ofis  stonei). 

Killed  near  the  Stickine  River,  northern  British  Columbia,   September, 
1904,  by  J.  K.  Bradley. 


MOUNTAIN    SHEEP   NOTES  iss 

edge  that  his  description  of  that  form  is  accredited  by 
Mr.  Sheldon  as  the  original  cause  of  his  extensive  explora- 
tions for  sheep  in  the  wild  Northwest. 

The  Black  Mountain  Sheep  is  the  darkest  in  color, 
or  one  may  say  the  most  nearly  black,  of  all  American 
wild  sheep.  North  of  the  Stickine  River  it  is  not  so  black 
as  it  is  farther  south,  where  the  blackness  of  its  head, 
neck  and  body  is  very  pronounced.  In  the  majority  of 
cases,  its  horns  are  so  characteristic  that  any  studious  per- 
son should  be  able  to  recognize  the  species  by  them  alone. 
The  front  angle  of  the  horn  is  very  sharp,  and  near  the 
base  it  actually  overhangs  the  face  of  the  horn.  This 
feature  is  constant.  In  about  nine  cases  out  of  every  ten, 
the  horns  of  the  Black  Sheep  are  distinguished  by  their 
widely-spreading  spiral,  and  the  great  distance  between 
the  tips.  Occasionally,  however,  a  head  develops  horns 
with  a  more  narrow  spiral,  like  those  of  the  typical  White 
Sheep ;  but  all  such  are  exceptional. 

The  White  Sheep  has  an  immense  range,  covering 
half  of  Alaska,  and  practically  the  whole  of  Yukon  Terri- 
tory. It  is  all  over  pure  white,  save  when  stained  by  con- 
tact with  wet  earth  or  dulled  by  age.  Occasionally  an 
individual  is  found  which  has  a  few  dark  hairs  in  its 
tail,  and  others  thinly  scattered  on  its  hind  quarters.  Of 
the  original  species,  Ovis  dalli,  two  subspecies  have  been 
described;  but  neither  are  separately  discernible  without 
a  close  examination  of  their  skulls.  In  section,  the  horns 
of  the  White  Sheep  are  very  much  like  those  of  the  Black 
Sheep,  but  those  of  northwestern  Alaska  show  the  fiat 
spiral,  and  have  the  tips  closer  together.    The  exceptions 


ise  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

are  those  which  spread  widely,  like  the  typical  horns  of 
Black  Sheep;  and  of  that  form  Mr.  Sheldon  collected 
some  striking  examples. 

Fannin's  Mountain  Sheep  (O.  fannini)  was  described 
by  the  writer  from  a  Klondyke  specimen  in  the  Victoria 
Museum,  marked  by  a  well-defined  blanket  of  gray  hair 
on  its  back  and  sides,  a  dark  gray  tail,  a  brown  stripe  down 
the  front  of  each  leg,  white  abdomen,  pure  white  neck 
and  head,  and  horns  like  the  White  Sheep.  Although 
other  specimens  exactly  similar  to  the  type  have  been 
taken,  several  others  have  shown  a  lighter  phase,  running 
farther  toward  the  typical  White  Sheep.  At  present  this 
species  is  being  weighed  in  the  balance,  and  when  the 
studies  of  Mr.  Sheldon's  collection  have  been  finished, 
its  true  character  will  be  known.  At  present  we  can  only 
say  that  it  is  a  form  standing  between  the  white  and 
black  species. 

The  most  remarkable  feature  of  the  three  mountain 
rams  shot  by  Mr.  Phillips,  and  one  which  instantly  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  us  all,  was  the  manner  in  which 
their  countenances  were  disfigured.  Each  of  the  two 
larger  rams  had  on  his  nose,  half  way  between  horns  and 
nostrils,  an  abnormal  hump  an  inch  in  height  above  the 
normal  outline.  It  reminded  us  of  the  old  saying  about 
"  an  inch  on  the  end  of  your  nose."  To  produce  such  an 
excrescence  by  hand,  one  would  need  to  strike  a  mountain 
ram  across  the  nose,  half  a  dozen  good  blows  with  a  ham- 
mer or  a  club,  daily  for  about  a  week. 

Fortunately  the  epidermis  had  not  been  beaten  off, 
nor  had  there  been  any  suppuration,  and  therefore  the 


MOUNTAIN    SHEEP   NOTES  257 

hair  was  intact.  Of  course  those  humps  had  been  caused 
by  fighting,  long  continued  and  oft  renewed.  When  the 
horns  of  the  combatants  crashed  together  at  their  bases, 
the  noses  of  the  rams  also  struck  together.  On  dissecting 
the  heads,  we  found  the  skin  over  each  hump  quite  free 
from  the  nasal  bones,  but  underneath  the  skin  there  had 
formed  a  layer  of  tough  gristle  three-quarters  of  an  inch 
thick,  and  apparently  of  a  permanent  character. 

The  accompanying  photograph  shows  the  appearance 
of  the  head  of  "  the  Brooklyn  Ram  ";  but  this  hump  was 
not  so  large  as  that  on  Ram  No.  i. 

On  dissecting  the  heads  of  Mr.  Phillips's  oldest  moun- 
tain rams,  a  hump  on  the  top  of  the  neck,  partly  covering 
the  base  of  the  skull,  also  attracted  general  attention.  In 
each  case  the  calloused  excrescence  was  very  large, 
sharply  defined,  and  so  slightly  merged  into  the  upper 
surface  of  the  neck  that  it  was  the  work  of  but  a  moment 
to  detach  one,  bodily,  with  the  knife. 

I  cut  off  the  largest  hump,  and  preserved  it  in  alcohol. 
It  was  two  and  one-eighth  inches  high,  six  inches  in 
length  on  the  curve,  and  seven  inches  in  width  on  the 
curve.  The  accompanying  sketch  shows  the  position  and 
proportions  of  this  strange  growth.  As  found  upon  a 
freshly-killed  animal,  it  has  the  density  and  toughness  of 
a  mass  of  soft  rubber.  Its  composition  is  of  tough  white 
fibre  and  fat,  and  while  very  solid  it  is  not  as  dense  as  a 
large  tendon.  As  detached,  the  mass  weighs  sixteen 
ounces.  It  could  easily  be  dismissed  by  calling  it  a 
nuchal  callosity. 

Naturally,  this  huge  bunch  of  combined  elasticity  and 


258  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

toughness  suggests  a  cushion,  for  the  protection  of  some- 
thing from  severe  shock  or  strain.  It  lies  directly  over 
the  occiput  and  the  first  two  cervical  vertebrae,  and  is 
built  upon  the  ligamentum  nuchi,  which  lies  upon  the 
top  of  the  neck,  and  forms  the  chief  support  of  the  head. 
Its  anterior  end  spreads  fan-shaped  over  the  lambdoidal 
crest  and  the  parietal  bone,  firmly  grasping  the  rear  upper 


%5fcu.4^^^^ 


Nuchal  Hump  of  Our  Largest  Ovis  Canadensis. 


surface  of  the  skull.  Of  course  the  posterior  end  of  this 
mass  vanishes  on  the  upper  surface  of  the  neck. 

On  young  rams  and  ewes — with  small  horns — this 
strange  reinforcement  is  not  found.  Evidently  it  is  devel- 
oped as  an  extra  means  of  support  for  the  heavy  horns 
of  old  rams,  and  a  provision  against  cerebro-spinal  men- 
ingitis from  overstrain  on  the  spinal  cord. 

In  the  rutting  season,  and  also  shortly  before  it,  two 


MOUNTAIN    SHEEP   NOTES  159 

rival  rams  will  choose  a  level  spot,  back  off  ten  or  fifteen 
feet  from  each  other,  and  come  together  with  a  force 
like  two  heavy  sledgehammers  wielded  by  blacksmiths. 
The  force  of  the  impact  sometimes  throws  both  combat- 
ants upright  on  their  hind  legs,  just  as  colliding  locomo- 
tives often  rear  up  as  they  crash  together.  It  is  then  that 
the  strain  upon  the  neck  of  the  animal  is  very  great;  and 
the  wrench  and  shock  are  greatest  at  the  point  where  the 
neck  joins  the  skull.  Small  wonder,  then,  that  Nature, 
in  her  infinite  wisdom  and  patience,  has  reinforced  the 
danger-point  with  a  rubber-like  ligament  of  such  enor- 
mous strength  that  the  neck  cannot  be  broken  by  any 
blow  from  in  front. 

Captain  C.  E.  Radcliffe,  of  the  Life  Guards,  author 
of  "  Big-Game  Shooting  in  Alaska,"  claims  that  moun- 
tain sheep  do  not  break  or  broom  the  tips  of  their  horns 
in  fighting,  as  many  sportsmen  and  naturalists  have 
hastily  concluded  that  they  do.  I  entirely  agree  with 
him.  When  Mr.  Phillips  and  I  placed  together  the  un- 
skinned  heads  of  those  two  big  rams,  with  their  massive 
horns  base  to  base,  just  as  we  know  that  sheep  horns  strike 
in  fighting,  we  saw  that  the  tips  of  the  two  pairs  were  far 
distant  from  each  other,  and  well  out  of  harm's  way.  As 
sheep  strike  each  other  in  fighting,  head  to  head,  it  is  a 
physical  impossibility  for  the  tips  to  be  harmed.  And 
even  if  a  horn  should  be  struck,  it  would  need  to  be  held 
tightly  in  a  vise  in  order  for  its  tip  to  receive  a  blow  of 
sufficient  force  to  break  it  off,  or  even  to  "  broom  "  it. 

Take  it  at  any  point  you  please,  the  horn  of  a  living 
mountain  sheep  ram  eight  or  nine  years  old  is  a  very  hard 


26o  CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

and  tough  proposition.  Even  with  an  old,  dry  horn,  I 
think  no  man  can  take  a  hammer  and  break  off  its  tip 
without  first  fixing  the  horn  very  firmly  in  a  vise.  I  have 
recently  tried  the  experiment,  with  sheep  horns  dry 
enough  to  be  as  brittle  as  such  horns  usually  are,  and  it  is 
my  belief  that  no  sheep  can  break  off  the  tip  of  a  horn 
save  in  a  fall  such  as  he  never  would  take  voluntarily. 
In  leaping  down  rocky  situations,  no  American  mountain 
sheep  could  fall  upon  the  tips  of  his  horns  without  crush- 
ing his  nose;  and  that  no  sheep  would  willingly  do. 

Captain  Radcliffe  says  that  he  has  seen  mountain 
sheep  rubbing  the  ends  of  their  horns  against  rocks,  and 
he  believes  that  sometimes  sheep  purposely  try  to  rub  off 
the  tips  of  their  horns,  because  in  their  upward  growth 
they  interfere  with  the  animal's  vision,  and  constitute  both 
an  annoyance  and  a  disability.*  Similar  observations 
have  been  made  by  Mr.  F.  B.  Wellman,  of  Banff,  who 
shares  Captain  Radcliffe's  belief  regarding  the  purpose 
of  the  act.  For  myself,  I  cannot  agree  with  these  ob- 
servers concerning  the  object  of  this  act.  It  would  re- 
quire an  immense  amount  of  effort  for  a  ram  to  rub  away 
the  ends  of  his  horns. 

The  Big-Horn  is  almost  strictly  a  grazing  animal. 
His  natural  feeding-grounds  are  the  high  mountain 
meadows  which  lie  from  i,ooo  feet  below  timberline  up  to 
the  snow-line.  In  the  mountains  of  British  Columbia  they 
feed  mostly  around  the  heads  of  the  slide-ways,  where  the 
turf  is  seldom  torn  up  by  the  avalanches.  Close  by  are 
sheltering  crags  and  rock  walls  that  tower  far  above. 

*  See  Shields'  Magazine,  January,  1906. 


MOUNTAIN    SHEEP   NOTES 


1261 


But,  while  the  mountain  sheep  dwells  among  and  near 
the  cliffs,  and  knows  how  to  utilize  them  to  the  utmost 
in  making  a  "  masterly  retreat,"  he  rarely  ventures  on  the 
dizzy  ledges  that  delight  the  soul  of  the  mountain  goat. 
The  mountain  sheep  can  climb,  boldly  and  well ;  but,  like 
a  sportsman  who  has  passed  his  fiftieth  year-post,  he  does 
not  care  to  climb  high  without  good  reason. 

The  sheep  killed  by  Mr.  Phillips  had  been  feeding 
on  bunch-grass,  which  grew  abundantly  on  the  side  of 
Cyclorama  Ridge.  Charles  L.  Smith  says  that  sheep  are 
very  fond  of  feeding  on  the  "  wild  pea,"  or  hedysarum 
(H.  Americanum) ,  the  root  of  which  is  so  acceptable  to 
the  grizzly  bear. 

The  specimens  of  mountain  sheep  which  we  handled 
so  soon  after  our  work  on  mountain  goats,  naturally  sug- 
gested comparisons  between  the  two  species. 


COMPARISON  OF  MOUNTAIN  SHEEP,  MOUNTAIN  GOAT 
AND  MULE  DEER 


Big-Horn 

Sheep. 

Adult  Male. 


Mountain 

Goat.* 

Adult  Male. 


Mule 
Deer.t 
Adult 
Male. 


Height  at  shoulders,  in  inches 
Length  of  head  and  body,  in  inches 
Girth  behind  fore  leg  " 

"      at  middle  of  body      "       " 
Weieht 


41 

69 

53 

57i 
316  lbs. 


39 
61 

53 

57 
276  lbs. 


42 
62 

45 


*  The  writer  shot  and  measured  an  old  goat  that  stood  42  inches  high  at 
the  shoulders,  but  it  was  so  old,  and  so  thin  in  flesh,  it  was  not  weighed, 
t  Shot  by  W.  T.  H.  on  Hell  Creek,  Montana,  October  9,  1901. 


262  CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

The  Big-Horn  Sheep  is  an  animal  of  nervous-san- 
guine temperament,  not  so  insanely  foolish  as  the  mule 
deer  and  white-tailed  deer,  nor  yet  so  lymphatic  as  the 
goat.  It  is  a  far  more  graceful  walker  and  runner  than 
the  goat,  and  also  more  agile  and  fleet  of  foot.  A  moun- 
tain sheep  can  run  over  rough  ground,  or  leap  through 
the  mazes  of  down  timber,  as  nimbly  as  any  deer,  and  as 
rapidly.  A  goat  runs  on  level  ground  with  the  grace  and 
ease  of  a  fat  yearling  calf,  but  not  much  more. 

As  will  be  seen  by  a  glance  at  the  measurements  re- 
corded in  this  volume,  the  adult  male  goat  and  sheep  are 
of  the  same  height,  but  the  latter  averages  about  twenty- 
five  pounds  (the  weight  of  his  horns!)  heavier.  The 
abundant  hair  on  the  legs  of  the  goat  makes  those  mem- 
bers seem  thicker  and  shorter  than  they  are — which 
is  really  great, — and  this  effect  is  increased  by  the  abun- 
dant pelage  of  the  body,  neck  and  head.  The  more  slender 
and  shapely  legs  and  finely  erect  carriage  of  the  head 
make  the  mountain  sheep  a  stately  and  handsome  ani- 
mal, while  in  appearance  the  goat  remains  a  zoological 
curiosity. 

The  sheep  is  much  more  alert  and  suspicious  than  the 
goat,  and  most  men  who  have  hunted  both  animals  be- 
lieve that  the  vision  of  the  former  is  much  keener.  This 
impression  may  be  due  to  greater  fear,  and  a  tendency 
to  flee  at  the  slightest  alarm. 

The  hoof  of  the  goat  is  distinctly  larger  than  that 
of  a  mountain  sheep  of  the  same  age,  and  more  square 
in  outline.  The  goat's  toe  is  broad,  and  the  bottom 
of  the   hoof  is   a  combination   of  ball   and  cup.     The 


MOUNTAIN    SHEEP   NOTES  163 

hoof  of  the  sheep  is  more  pointed,  and  its  bottom  is 
cup-shaped. 

The  natural  enemies  of  the  mountain  sheep  in  British 
Columbia  are  the  golden  and  the  white-headed  eagle,  and 
farther  south,  the  puma,  or  "  mountain  lion."  In  the 
western  Kootenay  country,  a  guide  who  was  in  the  moun- 
tains in  May  saw  a  golden  eagle  bearing  off  a  mountain 
sheep  lamb.  He  followed  the  bird,  and  finally  found  its 
nest,  and  its  brood  of  eaglets.  Around  the  nest  lay  the 
skulls  of  several  lambs,  showing  that  the  mother  bird  had 
been  making  a  specialty  of  that  kind  of  food  for  her 
young.    The  young  eagles  were  promptly  destroyed. 

On  the  Shoshone  Mountains  in  Wyoming,  east  of  the 
Yellowstone  Park,  my  one-time  guide,  Charles  Marston, 
once  saw  a  puma  seize  a  mountain  sheep  ram  by  the 
throat,  and  hold  on  with  a  fierce  grasp  of  tooth  and  claw 
while  puma  and  ram  rolled  down  the  mountain  side  for 
a  number  of  yards.  The  puma  held  fast  to  the  throat, 
sucking  the  blood  of  the  ram,  until  the  latter  expired. 
Then,  to  even  up  matters,  Marston  killed  the  puma.  Be- 
yond a  doubt,  in  localities  like  Wyoming  and  Colorado, 
many  mountain  sheep  have  been  killed  by  pumas. 

Although  I  am  no  pessimist  regarding  the  perma- 
nence of  animal  life,  I  am  compelled  to  believe  that  unless 
several  great  provincial  game  and  forest  reserves  are  at 
once  set  aside  in  British  Columbia,  the  mountain  sheep 
of  that  province  are  doomed  to  speedy  extinction.  To 
the  Stoney  Indian,  to  the  hungry  trapper,  and  to  every 
sportsman,  that  fine  animal  is  so  great  a  prize,  both  for 
its  valuable  trophy  head  and  for  food,  that  it  will  con- 


264  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

tinue  to  be  sought,  everywhere,  so  long  as  the  law  permits 
the  hunting  of  it.  It  is  the  boast  of  the  Stoney  Indians, — 
the  boldest  mountaineers  in  the  Columbian  Rockies, — 
that  no  big  game  can  live  in  any  country  which  they  them- 
selves inhabit.  This  is  no  idle  boast,  for  they  are  great 
slaughterers  of  game. 

While  the  killing  of  "  hungers  "  (old  rams)  will  not 
exterminate  a  species,  there  are  men  who  will  not  always 
go  without  fresh  meat  when  ewes  and  lambs  are  to  be 
had  for  the  killing.  In  total  number,  the  sheep  of  south- 
ern British  Columbi^  already  are  down  to  a  very  low 
point.  Many  an  eastern  sportsman  has  gone  to  that  coun- 
try to  kill  a  big  ram,  worked  hard,  spent  nearly  or  quite 
$i,ooo,  and  returned  empty  handed — because  of  the 
scarcity  of  sheep. 

It  would  indeed  be  cause  for  great  regret  if  any  com- 
bination of  circumstances  should  bring  about  in  the  splen- 
did mountain  lands  of  British  Columbia,  the  extinction 
of  the  grandest  mountain  sheep  in  America. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

A  PANORAMIC  GRIZZLY-BEAR  HUNT 

Luck  as  a  Factor  in  Bear  Hunting — An  Exhausting  Climb — A  Silver- 
Tip  Sighted— Mr.  Phillips  and  Mack  Run  for  it— A  Summit  Stroll 
Between  the  Acts — The  Ball  Opens — A  Long  Chase — Snap-Shots 
Only,  and  at  Long  Range — A  Good  Long  Shot — Mack's  Fusillades 
— A  Foot-Shot  Bear,  and  ChafF  for  the  Victors. 

It  is  Strange  how  luck  works  out  things  for  hunters. 

If  we  had  had  no  mountain  sheep  specimens  to  finish 
on  the  forenoon  of  September  23d,  and  had  gone  up  the 
mountain  some  hours  earlier,  it  is  reasonably  certain  that 
we  would  have  missed  seeing  what  we  saw  later  on  that 
eventful  day. 

Beyond  question,  luck  has  much  to  do  with  the  net 
results  in  hunting,  and  particularly  in  the  pursuit  of  the 
grizzly.  Of  course,  after  all  has  been  said,  it  is  the  strong 
lungs  and  straight  powder  that  wins ;  but  at  the  same  time 
I  pity  any  hunter  who  is  prone  to  be  unlucky.  Only 
yesterday  a  noted  grizzly-bear  hunter  said  to  me,  "  We 
saw  twenty-one  grizzly  bears  on  that  trip,  and  we  hunted 
hard,  but  we  never  got  a  shot! "  When  I  said,  "  Why, 
on  earth?  "  he  answered,  with  a  fatalistic  shrug,  "  Mostly 
on  account  of  the  tangle  of  rank,  snow-dragged  willow 
brush  on  the  slides  where  the  bears  fed.  It  always  took 
so  long  to  fight  our  way  up  to  where  a  bear  was  feeding 

»65 


166  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

that  by  the  time  we  got  there  he  was  gone,  and  couldn't 
be  found." 

As  an  instance,  however,  of  luck  combined  with  effort, 
the  events  of  our  day  were  interesting. 

Mr.  Phillips  was  anxious  that  I  should  have  a  hunt 
for  mountain  sheep,  and  bring  out  for  my  own  personal- 
trophy  collection  a  good  Columbian  head.  Having  al- 
ready had  a  fine  hunt  for  sheep  in  Wyoming,  I  was  at 
first  positively  averse  to  killing  even  one  more  sheep. 
Finally,  however,  I  concluded  that  he  was  right  in  assur- 
ing me  that  the  taking  of  another  ram  would  have  no 
exterminating  tendency,  and  I  decided  to  kill  one  if  the 
chance  offered.  Mr.  Phillips  and  Mack  felt  sure  that 
other  sheep  could  be  found  on  the  mountain  north  of 
Camp  Necessity,  whereon  the  three  rams  had  been  killed, 
and  they  insisted  that  we  ought  to  go  up  that  afternoon  to 
"  locate  a  band  for  the  director."  We  also  wished  to  carry 
down  a  quantity  of  meat  from  the  previous  kill.  After 
an  early  luncheon,  Mr.  Phillips,  Mack,  Charlie  and  I 
started  up. 

It  was  a  hot  afternoon.  There  was  hardly  a  breath 
of  air  stirring,  and  the  southern  slope  up  which  we 
climbed  caught  the  full  glare  of  the  sun.  After  we  got 
clear  of  the  down  timber,  and  were  well  started  up,  the 
going  was  by  no  means  bad,  even  though  the  slope  was 
as  steep  as  usual. 

On  that  occasion  I  acted  very  badly.  The  heat  in  my 
lungs  became  horribly  oppressive,  and  the  exertion  of 
climbing  was  the  hardest  I  had  yet  been  called  upon  to 
make.     At  every  step  my  knee-breeches  caught  on  my 


A    PANORAMIC    GRIZZLY-BEAR    HUNT    267 

knees,  and  caused  a  loss  of  fully  ten  per-cent  of  my  horse- 
power. It  was  like  an  addition  of  eighteen  pounds  to  my 
weight,  until  at  last  I  gathered  four  safety  pins  from  the 
party,  and  took  a  reef  in  each  leg  of  my  trousers,  so  that 
they  ceased  to  drag. 

As  we  slowly  climbed,  the  perspiration  ran  off  my 
face  like  rain,  and  soon  I  was  in  a  Turkish-bath  condition, 
plus  my  clothes. 

"  Take  it  easy,"  said  my  ever-patient  companions. 
"  There's  no  hurry.    Rest  whenever  you  get  tired." 

Mack  Norboe  led  the  way,  choosing  the  route  care- 
fully with  a  view  to  making  the  climb  as  easy  for  me  as 
the  ground  would  allow.  His  easy  "  panther  stride," 
as  Mr.  Phillips  aptly  called  it,  seemed  absolutely  tireless. 
About  every  two  hundred  feet  upward,  my  lungs  simply 
gave  out,  and  I  was  forced  to  stop,  and  pant  for  my 
vanished  breath.  I  was  disgusted  and  mortified  beyond 
endurance,  and  at  last  even  became  very  angry, — but  all 
to  no  purpose.  The  sun  and  the  mountain  were  both 
inexorable,  and  my  feebly-growing  reputation  as  a  moun- 
taineer melted  away  forever.  How  I  envied  those  three 
one-hundred-and-forty-pound  men,  in  good  training,  who 
went  up  with  ease  and  nonchalance  that  were  almost 
maddening  to  see! 

On  the  way  up  we  passed  the  carcasses  of  two  of  Mr. 
Phillips's  rams,  and  we  saw  where  they  were  first  seen, 
how  they  ran,  where  they  fell,  and  how  they  rolled.  That 
was  a  wonderful  chance, — to  get  a  bunch  of  large  rams  on 
that  open  mountain-side,  where  long-range  shooting  was 
practicable, — and  the  shooting  had  been  exceedingly  well 


268   CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

done.  As  before  noted,  the  sheep  were  far  from  safety 
rocks  when  the  hunter  opened  fire. 

At  last  we  reached  the  top  of  that  awful  mountain, 
and  sat  down  to  rest  on  Cyclorama  Point,  where  the  great 
ridge  stops  short  in  its  easterly  course.  Take  a  large 
visiting  card,  fold  it  lengthwise  along  the  middle,  back 
the  western  end  of  it  up  against  a  conical  ink-bottle  and 
you  will  have  the  topography,  with  the  eastern  point  as 
our  coign  of  vantage. 

The  top  of  the  ridge  was  barely  wide  enough  for  a 
game  trail,  and  the  trail  was  there,  leading  back  to  the 
tall  peak  farther  west.  From  the  crest,  the  northern  slope 
fell  away  even  more  steeply  than  the  southern,  but  it 
was  well  covered  with  green  timber.  Far  below  us,  a 
mile  at  least,  a  creek  ran  through  a  narrow  valley,  and 
on  the  farther  side  of  that  another  mountain  ridge,  two 
miles  long  from  bottom  to  top  and  three  miles  long  from 
end  to  end,  swept  steeply  upward.  It  was  a  crazy-quilt 
of  green  timber,  brush,  slide-rock  and  dead  timber. 

As  usual  when  hunters  reach  the  top  of  a  lofty  ridge, 
and  a  new  prospect  opens  to  view,  every  eye  quickly 
swept  the  opposite  mountain-side  in  quest  of  big  game. 
Mack  Norboe  had  not  looked  through  his  glasses  for 
more  than  ten  seconds  when  his  low,  deeply-resonant 
voice  rumbled  out  of  the  depths  of  his  chest. 

"  I  see  a  big  grizzly!  Come  here,  and  I'll  show  him 
to  you."     I  went. 

"  He's  right  over  there,  in  the  open,  near  the  east 
side  of  that  patch  of  green  timber,"  and  in  an  instant 
more  every  eye  had  picked  it  out. 


A    PANORAMIC    GRIZZLY-BEAR    HUNT    269 

What  we  saw  was  an  oblong  speck  of  dull  black,  with 
a  faintly-discernible  wedge  of  a  lighter  tint  driving  into 
it  from  the  left  side. 

"Are  you  sure  it's  a  grizzly?  " 

"  It's  a  silver-tip  all  right,"  said  John  Phillips.  "  I 
can  see  the  light  mark  behind  the  fore-leg." 

"  He's  eating  berries,"  said  Charlie  Smith.  "  There 
nowl  he's  standing  on  his  hind  legs!  " 

The  bear  was  on  a  slide  that  had  become  overgrown 
with  bushes,  and  quite  near  to  an  island-like  patch  of 
several  acres  of  green  timber, — an  excellent  refuge  in 
time  of  trouble.  West  of  that  another  slide  ran  down; 
and  beyond  that  lay  a  tract  of  several  hundred  acres  of 
green  timber,  in  which  the  chase  of  an  able-bodied  bear, 
at  four-thirty  P.  M.,  would  be  quite  hopeless.  The  dis- 
tance from  the  creek  up  to  the  bear  was  about  half  a 
mile,  and  as  usual,  the  ascent  was  steep  and  tangled. 

It  was  then  twenty  minutes  of  four  o'clock,  and  it 
would  be  dark  at  six.  Of  course  the  hunt  led  directly 
away  from  camp.  It  would  take  first  class  work  to  get 
over  to  that  bear,  find  it,  and  kill  it  before  sunset,  saying 
nothing  of  getting  back  to  camp.  It  was  a  thrilling  mo- 
ment, and  called  for  swift  action. 

"  That  bear  is  two  good  miles  from  here,"  said  Char- 
lie, breathing  hard. 

"  Well,  if  we  get  him  before  night  we've  got  to  be 
a-movin'!  "  said  Mack  very  earnestly. 

"Then  get  ready  for  a  run!"  cried  Mr.  Phillips. 
"  Can  you  make  it.  Director?  " 

Now,  I  am  no  gambler;  but  I  take  pride  in  knowing 


270  CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

one  thing  that  every  good  poker-player  knows, — ^wHen 
to  "  lay  down  "  my  hand. 

"  No,  I  think  not.  I  would  only  be  a  hindrance  to 
the  rest  of  you,  and  I  might  be  the  means  of  your  losing 
the  bear.  Go  ahead;  and  I'll  stay  here  and  see  you  do 
it.  I've  got  my  grizzly,  and  that  one  is  yours,  in  any 
event." 

"  I'll  stay  here,  too,"  said  Charlie.  "  Now,  you  fel- 
lows light  right  out.^^ 

Meanwhile,  Mr.  Phillips  was  hurriedly  removing 
from  his  person  everything  that  could  be  spared,  even 
to  his  pocket  knife;  for  in  a  run  like  that  about  to  be 
made,  every  ounce  counts. 

"  Come  on.  Jack!  "  cried  Mack.  With  his  blue  eyes 
glinting,  and  his  face  aglow  he  backed  over  the  edge  of 
the  rim-rock,  and  dashed  down  into  the  green  timber, 
with  John  leaping  after  him,  like  two  deer  escaping  from 
a  pen.  The  ground  was  soft,  and  they  ran  with  great 
plunging  strides,  covering  at  least  eight  feet  at  every 
step.  It  was  surprising  that  neither  of  them  pitched 
headlong  downward  against  a  tree  trunk.  In  five  seconds 
the  green  shadows  had  swallowed  them. 

"  I  pity  that  bear,  with  those  wolves  after  him,"  said 
Charlie,  reflectively. 

He  sat  down,  as  agreed,  to  watch  the  bear  constantly, 
and  to  give  semaphore  signals,  with  his  hat,  to  show  the 
location  of  the  animal  whenever  the  time  came  to  attack 
it.  It  had  been  agreed,  as  an  estimate,  that  it  would  take 
the  hunters  an  hour  to  reach  the  bear  by  the  course  they 
had  mapped  out  as  most  likely  to  lead  to  success. 


A    PANORAMIC    GRIZZLY-BEAR    HUNT    ayi 

I  decided  to  take  advantage  of  this  brief  interval,  in 
a  still-hunt  westward  along  the  top  of  the  ridge,  in  quest 
of  sheep,  and  without  the  loss  of  a  moment  I  left  Charlie 
and  set  out. 

It  was  a  lovely  hunt,  prosecuted  in  a  most  orthodox 
manner,  but  it  yielded  nothing  larger  or  more  serious 
than  a  big  and  prosperous  yellow-haired  porcupine. 
Him  I  found  in  the  green  timber  of  the  northern  slope 
about  fifty  feet  down.  I  learned  of  him  through  his 
querulous,  whining  talk.  He  said,  "  Uh!  uh!  uh!  uh! 
uh!  uh!  uh!  "  over  and  over,  in  the  thin,  high-pitched 
nasal  voice  of  a  barn-yard  hen  who  thinks  she  can  sing 
in  the  sun,  and  attempts  to  prove  it.  The  note  starts  low 
and  faint,  and  increases  in  volume  but  not  in  pitch,  until 
it  can  be  heard  a  hundred  yards  or  more.  The  note  struck 
by  that  particular  porcupine  was  the  same  as  the  third  G 
above  middle  C  on  a  piano. 

After  watching  Erethizon  epixanthus  for  a  few  min- 
utes, I  hastened  on  up  the  ridge,  following  the  well-worn 
game  trail  that  leads  along  the  summit.  After  a  swiftly- 
covered  stretch  of  two  miles  I  reached  the  peak  and 
precipice  at  the  western  end  of  the  ridge,  and  briefly 
viewed  the  great  rocky  basin  in  which  the  valley  termi- 
nates, against  the  sheer  wall.  Although  I  prospected 
some  fine  sheep  rocks,  I  saw  neither  sheep  nor  deer;  but 
a  week  later,  when  John  and  Mack  stood  in  that  same 
spot,  enveloped  in  clouds,  they  heard  a  band  of  sheep 
walking  over  the  slide-rock  a  few  score  feet  below  them, 
but  safely  hidden  from  view. 

Having  traversed  the  entire  ridge,  I  wheeled  about 


272   CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

and  started  back  almost  on  a  run,  to  reach  Charlie's  look- 
out point  by  the  time  the  hunters  began  their  attack  on 
the  bear.  I  was  not  a  moment  too  soon,  for  at  twenty 
minutes  past  five,  I  heard  John's  .405  roar  and  echo  in 
the  canyon.  The  shot  was  quickly  followed  by  five  or 
six  others,  and  it  was  clear  that  the  battle  was  on. 

Covering  my  remaining  distance  on  a  keen  run,  I 
joined  Charlie  on  the  rim-rock,  just  as  the  first  fusillade 
ended.  A  little  later,  when  we  saw  the  bear  break  out 
of  the  timber  island  into  the  open  slide,  we  thought  it 
had  escaped;  but  when  we  saw  it  roll,  and  then  heard  the 
roar  of  Mr.  Phillips's  big  gun,  we  yelled  our  approval. 
But  we  were  a  trifle  premature.  We  were  terribly  dis- 
appointed when  the  pursuing  hunters,  without  a  sound 
in  reply  to  us,  disappeared  in  the  brush  and  timber.  We 
knew  they  were  following  a  wounded  animal;  and  in 
thick  and  tangled  willow  brush,  a  wounded  bear  is  what 
Sioux  Indians  call  "  bad  medicine." 

After  quite  a  long  interval,  we  heard  more  firing, 
and  saw  the  boys  running.  We  were  able  to  locate  them 
by  Mr.  Phillips's  white  undershirt.  Presently  we  saw 
arms  wildly  semaphoring,  and  triumphant  yells  came 
pealing  across  the  valley.  By  those  tokens  we  knew  that 
the  bear  was  dead.  We  yelled  back  our  approval  and 
congratulations,  but  when  I  shouted  "  Is-it-a-^/^-one?  " 
the  wires  immediately  stopped  working! 

Charlie  had  not  once  seen  the  two  hunters,  and  had 
no  knowledge  of  their  movements,  until  they  opened  fire. 
Even  then,  the  distance  was  so  great,  and  their  clothing 
so  perfectly  matched  with  their  surroundings,  it  was  only 


A    PANORAMIC    GRIZZLY-BEAR    HUNT    273 

because  Mr.  Phillips  had  taken  ofif  his  outer  shirt  of  gray 
flannel  that  we  were  able  to  locate  him  by  his  white  under- 
shirt. Besides,  they  made  the  run  in  record-breaking 
time,  and  Charlie  did  not  expect  them  to  reach  the  bear 
so  quickly. 

John  Phillips  declares  he  and  Norboe  reached  the 
creek  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  in  the  quickest  time  they 
ever  made.  Within  ten  minutes  after  they  left  us,  they 
found  a  foaming  stream  of  ice-cold  water. 

"  Last  chance  to  drink!  "  cried  Mack,  throwing  him- 
self flat  upon  the  stones.  Mr.  Phillips  did  not  dare  to 
drink,  for  fear  of  the  effect  it  might  have  on  his  wind  in 
the  hard  run  upward;  but  he  flung  himself  down,  and 
plunged  his  head  into  the  water.  Dripping  from  the 
stream,  he  rose  and  dashed  at  the  steep  slope  of  the  north- 
ern mountain,  gaining  a  few  seconds  on  Norboe. 

For  several  reasons,  the  hunters  dared  not  run  directly 
toward  the  bear.  It  might  detect  them,  and  if  it  took 
alarm  before  they  could  get  in  a  fatal  shot,  they  would 
have  a  hard  time  chasing  it  up  hill.  So  they  bore  away 
westwardly,  to  make  a  long  detour  through  the  big  tract 
of  green  timber  that  would  bring  them  out  above  their 
quarry.  Like  all  mountain-climbing  through  green  tim- 
ber, they  had  to  work  hard  for  all  they  won.  They  went 
up  fully  a  mile  before  swinging  eastward,  and  then  an- 
other mile  before  reaching  their  game. 

Once  when  they  reached  a  small  open  slide,  they 
halted  in  the  opening,  and  with  their  binoculars  looked 
across  at  Charlie.  He  was  sharply  defined  on  the  skyline, 
but  made  no  sign  of  any  kind.    They  waved  to  him,  fran- 


274  CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE    CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

tically,  many  times;  but  he  saw  them  not,  and  of  course 
made  no  signals.  They  were  desperately  eager  to  know 
whether  the  bear  had  moved,  and  if  so,  whither.  They 
scolded,  and  waved,  and  fumed,  and  waved  some  more; 
but  Charlie  sat  with  his  binoculars  glued  to  his  eyes,  as 
impassive  as  Farragut  on  his  pedestal.  With  all  his  faith- 
ful watching,  Charlie  says,  "  I  never  saw  hair  nor  hide 
of  'em  until  after  the  ball  opened!  "  So  the  hunters  had 
to  proceed  without  the  aid  of  their  semaphore  station; 
and  this  was  Mack's  final  growl : 

*'  From  the  way  Smidty's  glued  to  them  glasses,  you'd 
think  he'd  never  seen  a  b'ar  afore!  It's  up  to  us  to  find 
and  kill  that  b'ar,  wherever  it  is." 

They  steered  southeast  through  the  green  timber, 
keenly  observant  of  everything  in  sight,  hoping  to  dis- 
cover the  bear  before  it  saw  them.  Vain  hope!  It  had 
moved  westward  into  the  timber  islet,  passed  through  it 
and  out  into  the  slideway  that  bounded  its  western  side. 
It  was  heading  for  the  large  tract  of  timber,  and  was 
almost  in  it,  when  it  detected  the  on-coming  hunters. 
Whether  it  saw  them,  or  heard  them,  or  smelled  them, 
no  one  can  say;  but  I  suspect  that  it  both  saw  and  heard 
them.  Charlie  says  that  suddenly  it  wheeled  about,  and 
raced  back  toward  the  island  of  green  timber.  When 
the  hunters  in  the  timber  first  caught  sight  of  the  bear,  it 
was  running  from  them  at  full  speed,  and  was  half  way 
across  the  brush-covered  slideway.  Mr.  Phillips,  who 
was  leading,  caught  sight  of  it,  through  the  overhanging 
spruce  boughs,  and  instantly  fired.  The  bear  flinched 
slightly,  but  ran  the  faster.    Immediately  he  sent  forward 


A    PANORAMIC    GRIZZLY-BEAR    HUNT    275 

three  more  balls,  and  Mack,  seeing  that  the  bear  was 
running  well,  joined  in  the  melee]  but  all  this  seemed 
only  to  accelerate  the  animal's  speed. 

The  bear  won  its  race  for  life  to  the  edge  of  the  green 
timber,  and  plunged  into  its  shadowy  depths.  "  Come 
on,  Jack!  "  yelled  Norboe,  "  let's  git  out  of  this  timber, 
and  catch  him  when  he  runs  across  the  open  slide."  And 
he  plunged  down  the  bank. 

At  the  edge  of  the  open  ground,  Mr.  Phillips  sat 
down  and  waited  for  a  shot.  Very  soon  the  bear  broke 
cover,  on  the  farther  side  of  the  timber  islet,  nearly  four 
hundred  yards  away.  With  a  careful  long  shot,  holding 
high  and  ahead,  he  caught  the  animal  high  up  in  the 
flank.  The  bullet  ranged  forward  and  lodged  in  the 
opposite  shoulder;  and  the  bear  rolled  heels  over  head 
in  the  brush. 

This  made  five  shots  that  Mr.  Phillips  had  fired, 
which  emptied  his  gun.  As  he  began  to  reload.  Mack 
broke  past  him  on  a  keen  run.  He  has  been  in  at  the 
death  of  many  a  bear,  and  his  motto  is,  *'  When  you  git 
a  b'ar  down,  git  in  quick,  and  keep  him  down\  " 

"  Hold  on.  Mack!  Wait!  "  yelled  Phillips ;  and  with- 
out waiting  to  finish  his  reloading  he  sprang  to  his  feet 
and  raced  after  his  excited  comrade.  Half  way  across 
the  slide,  Mr.  Phillips  ran  into  a  clump  of  snow-bent 
willows,  and  fell  headlong.  When  he  regained  his  feet 
and  looked  ahead,  he  saw  that  Mack  was  in  a  like  pre- 
dicament. Many  a  fine  JDcar  has  been  lost  through  an 
excess  of  snow-bent  willow  brush  on  the  slides  where 
they  feed. 


276  CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

While  Mack  was  wallowing  in  the  brush,  John  over- 
took him,  and  together  they  raced  through  the  timber, 
and  out  upon  the  slide  beyond,  to  the  spot  where  the  bear 
had  fallen.  Alas!  their  quarry  had  disappeared!  But 
the  hunters  knew  from  the  blood-stained  trail,  and  a  wide 
swath  of  broken  weeds,  that  the  grizzly  was  dragging  its 
hind-quarters,  and  could  not  be  far  away.  They  tried  to 
send  Kaiser  after  it,  but  he  flatly  declined  to  go  alone. 
Norboe  then  followed  the  trail  down  the  timbered  point 
toward  the  creek,  while  Phillips  scouted  lower  down  on 
the  brush-covered  slide  in  order  to  head  off  the  bear  from 
the  heavy  green  timber  beyond. 

They  had  gone  but  a  short  distance  when  Mack,  reach- 
ing an  elevated  point  at  the  end  of  the  timber,  and  look- 
ing across  the  slide  down  to  the  bank  of  the  creek, 
caught  glimpses  of  the  bear  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards 
away,  in  some  willow  bushes.  His  companion  was  in  a 
low  spot,  half  way  between  himself  and  the  bear.  Imme- 
diately he  began  firing,  over  Mr.  Phillips's  head,  and 
emptied  his  .33-Winchester  of  the  eight  shots  it  contained. 
John,  floundering  on  the  slide  below,  could  see  nothing 
on  account  of  the  high  willows,  and  during  the  fusillade 
kept  yelling,  in  desperation,  "  Hold  on.  Mack!  Wait 
till  I  get  there!  Don't  kill  him!  I  want  to  photograph 
him!" 

The  only  thing  in  the  West  that  can  excite  Mack 
Norboe  beyond  control  is  an  unfinished  grizzly  bear; 
and  so  he  kept  on  firing. 

When  they  finally  reached  the  bear,  they  found  it 
dead.    Then  its  sex  changed ;  for  it  proved  to  be  a  female. 


A    PANORAMIC    GRIZZLY-BEAR    HUNT    277 

Mr.  Phillips  had  shot  it  as  described  above,  while  Mack 
had  put  one  of  his  eight  shots  through  its  back.  The 
greatest  joke  of  the  whole  trip  was  that  the  bear  had  three 
bullets  through  its  right  hind  foot,  two  in  the  left,  and 
one  in  a  front  paw;  and  all  of  them  had  entered  from 
belowl 

As  soon  as  the  last  firing  ended,  the  long-distance 
shouts  of  the  hunters  told  us  of  their  triumph.  We  were 
barely  able  to  see  them  with  our  glasses,  but  we  yelled 
back  our  pleasure  in  their  success.  By  that  time,  the  day 
was  nearly  done,  and  in  order  not  to  be  benighted  in  the 
down  timber,  Charlie  and  I  turned,  and  began  a  swift 
retreat  down  the  mountain.  He  set  a  racing  pace,  but  I 
showed  him  that  when  piloted  in  the  proper  direction, 
I  am  a  very  good  mountaineer.  But  even  going  down 
hill,  the  side  of  the  mountain  seemed  almost  endless,  and 
I  was  glad  to  see  through  the  heavy  shadows  of  the  green 
timber  the  gleam  of  the  camp-fire,  and  hear  Huddleston's 
cheery  *'  Hello." 

Half  an  hour  later,  we  were  astonished  by  the 
arrival  of  John  and  Mack,  hot  and  tired,  but  triumph- 
ant. They  came  to  camp  down  the  creek  on  which 
they  had  killed  the  bear,  and  both  complained  bitterly 
of  the  treatment  they  received  from  its  down  timber  and 
rock-slides.  By  this  we  knew  that  both  must  have  been 
very  bad. 

The  boys  told  of  their  bad  shooting  with  great  glee, 
and  we  chaffed  them  long  and  uproariously  over  their 
foot-shot  bear.  Mr.  Phillips  thought  that  some  of  the 
holes  in  the  feet  might  have  been  made  during  the  first 


278  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

attack,  when  the  bear  rushed  up  out  of  the  slide.  She  was 
then  running  diagonally  away  from  them,  and  they  could 
catch  only  occasional  glimpses  of  her.  There  was  no  such 
thing  as  a  fair  shot,  and  a  proper  lead.  In  the  difficult 
snap-shot  firing  which  followed,  she  simply  ran  away 
from  the  bullets. 

Inasmuch  as  both  the  boys  are  excellent  shots, 
particularly  when  big  game  is  afoot,  I  became  deeply 
interested  in  finding  out  how  that  bear  got  so  many  shots 
in  her  feet,  from  below.  It  is  quite  true  that  when  a  bear 
is  galloping  away  from  a  hunter,  the  soles  of  the  hind  feet 
are  thrown  so  far  up  in  the  air  that  a  bullet  fired  from 
behind,  and  from  a  lower  level,  might  strike  them.  But 
it  seems  that  Norboe  last  saw  the  bear  alive,  and 
fired  the  eight  shots  which  finished  her  as  she  lay  on 
her  back,  in  a  tangle  of  brush,  at  the  edge  of  the  creek. 
He  said, 

"  Well,  she  laid  thar  on  her  back,  and  waved  her  hind 
feet  at  me  till  she  looked  like  a  spinnin'  wheel  covered 
with  b'ar  feet;  and  I  shore  shot  at  all  I  saw!  " 

It  is  my  opinion  that  the  majority  of  those  feet  were 
shot  by  Norboe,  in  the  last  assault,  when  there  was 
nothing  else  in  sight  at  which  to  fire.  Altogether,  it  was 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  results  in  shooting  that  I  ever 
examined. 

The  pelage  of  this  bear  was  very  fine  and  beautiful, 
being  long,  abundant,  and  of  rich  colors.  Judging  from 
the  skin,  Charlie  Smith  and  I  guessed  the  weight  of  the 
bear  at  between  four  hundred  and  four  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds,  but  she  scaled  only  three  hundred  and  twenty 


Mr.    Phillips   Regrets   the   Impending   Extinction   of  the   Grizzly   Bear 


A    PANORAMIC    GRIZZLY-BEAR    HUNT     279 

pounds,  gross.  When  stretched  upon  its  frame,  the  skin 
looked  so  handsome  that  Mr.  Phillips  decided  to  offer  it 
to  the  Carnegie  Museum,  at  Pittsburg,  to  be  mounted  for 
a  place  in  a  future  group  of  grizzly  bears.  Eventually  it 
was  so  offered,  and  promptly  accepted. 


CHAPTER   XX 

AVALANCHE  AND  SLIDE-ROCK 

The  "Snow-Slide" — An  Ideal  Mountain  Section — Creek  Buried  Under 
Slide-Rock — Timber  Wrecked  by  Avalanche— Slides  and  Wild 
Animals — How  Slides  Originate — Twelve  Slides  in  One  Mile 
— Slide-Rock — How  Mountain  Peaks  Change  to  Steep  Slopes — An 
Object  Lesson  in  False  Notch. 

Out  in  British  Columbia  they  caU  them  "  snow- 
slides,"  or  merely  "  slides,"  because  there  are  so  many 
of  them  it  takes  too  much  time  to  say  "  avalanche."  But, 
call  it  what  you  may,  the  snow-slide  is  the  logical  se- 
quence of  steep  mountains  and  abundant  snow. 

Take  your  own  house-roof  in  winter,  pile  upon  it  a 
foot  of  snow,  then  send  a  January  thaw  with  water  run- 
ning on  the  shingles.  The  thundering  rush,  the  shiver, 
and  the  ultimate  crash  which  you  hear  tells  the  story 
of  a  miniature  snow-slide.  Take  one  of  those  micro- 
scopic slides,  magnify  it  ten  million  diameters,  send  it 
half  a  mile  down  a  very  steep  incline,  with  the  speed 
and  power  of  an  express  train,  and  you  will  have  an 
ordinary  snow-slide,  such  as  occur  by  the  thousand 
every  spring  in  the  house-roof  mountains  of  British 
Columbia. 

From  man's  view-point  a  snow-slide  is  awe-inspiring, 
and  in  its  open  season,  profoundly  dangerous.    As  viewed 

by  Nature,  it  is  one  of  her  ordinary  processes,  very  quick 

280 


AVALANCHE    AND    SLIDE-ROCK  281 

and  useful  in  paring  down  steep  mountains,  and  filling 
up  narrow  valleys.  Incidentally,  they  furnish  early  pas- 
tures for  the  mountain  flocks,  and  the  best  of  hunting- 
grounds  for  men  who  come  with  rifles  to  take  toll  of  the 
wilds. 

The  eastern  mountain-side  on  Avalanche  Creek  was 
an  ideal  section  for  the  study  of  Nature's  methods  as 
manifested  in  slides.  The  story  of  the  avalanche  was 
written  out  along  miles  of  roof-like  slopes,  and  divided 
into  many  chapters.  I  spent  hours  in  climbing  over  them, 
and  in  trying  to  read  aright  the  things  written  there. 

One  incident  that  awakens  one  to  a  realizing  sense 
of  the  majesty,  and  at  times  the  terrors,  of  the  forces  ex- 
erted in  that  spot  is  finding  the  brawling  waters  of  the 
creek  disappearing  under  a  hill  of  slide-rock  nearly  forty 
feet  high!  The  avalanches  have  rushed  this  great  mass 
down  from  the  Phillips  Mountains,  and  piled  it  clear 
across  the  valley.  But  for  the  open-work  character  of 
this  great  natural  dam,  which  permits  the  waters  of  the 
creek  to  run  under  it  in  its  original  bed,  the  valley  above 
it  would  now  be  a  lake,  thirty  feet  deep  at  the  spot  where- 
on our  camp  stood.  As  the  perpendicular  face  of  the  east- 
ern mountain  is  split  off  and  thrown  down  by  water 
freezing  and  expanding  in  its  millions  of  crevices,  the 
annual  spring  snow-slide  gathers  up  a  few  thousand  tons 
or  so,  rushes  it  down  the  icy  slope  at  express-train  speed, 
and  spreads  it  a  quarter  of  a  mile  wide  over  the  surface 
of  the  existing  hill.  It  is  mixed  with  thousands  of  tons 
of  snow,  as  a  matrix,  but  ere  long  the  latter  melts  away, 
and  there  remains  only  an  innocent  looking  hill  bestrewn 


282  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

with  fresh  slide-rock  the  size  of  paving  stones.  As  usual, 
the  slide-rock  surface  is  immaculately  clean,  gray,  sharp- 
edged,  and  cruel  to  man  and  beast. 

About  two  miles  farther  down  there  is  another  mani- 
festation of  a  very  different  character,  and  as  a  revelation 
of  power,  it  is  enough  to  send  a  thrill  of  awe  through  a 
pack-horse.  I  watched  its  effect  on  Kaiser,  and  am  sure 
he  was  deeply  impressed  by  the  sight.  He  sat  near 
me  on  a  high  log,  and  looked  over  the  wreck  until  called 
away. 

About  ten  years  ago,  an  avalanche  came  down  a  long 
and  very  steep  mountain-side,  through  a  thick  patch  of 
green  timber.  Tall  spruce  trees,  two  feet  in  diameter  and 
seventy-five  feet  high,  were  swept  down  bodily,  root,  stem 
and  branch,  as  if  they  had  been  so  many  stalks  of  green 
corn.  The  mass  of  snow  and  ice  which  did  this,  for  in 
it  there  was  but  little  rock,  must  have  been  twenty  or  thirty 
feet  thick  when  it  struck  the  heaviest  of  the  green  timber, 
and  solid  as  ice.  As  it  went  along,  it  tore  up  every  tree, 
sapling  and  bush,  leaving  in  its  path  not  one  stick  of  wood 
the  size  of  a  chair-post,  and  smashed  the  whole  mass  into 
the  bottom  of  the  valley.  You  can  find  it  there  now,  piled 
twenty  feet  high  above  the  bed  of  the  creek,  as  shown  in 
Mr.  Phillips's  excellent  photograph. 

Trees  eighteen  inches  in  diameter  were  snapped  in 
two;  and  one,  with  a  stem  as  big  as  a  large  telegraph 
pole,  was  bent  like  a  bow.  It  is  partly  in  view  in  the 
left  of  the  picture.  The  bark  has  weathered  away  from 
all  these  logs,  and  the  tangled  mass  of  smooth  gray  trunks 
now  tells  the  story  of  the  avalanche,  just  as  the  white 


3   j; 

CO      0 


AVALANCHE    AND    SLIDE-ROCK  283 

bones  on  the  Montana  ranges  once  told  the  story  of 
buffalo  slaughter. 

No  wonder  the  timber-haunting  mule  deer  jump  and 
fly  at  break-neck  speed  whenever  a  mischief-loving 
hunter  rolls  a  big  rock  over  the  edge  of  a  clifif  into  their 
cover.  They  very  wisely  *'  fear  the  awful  avalanche." 
For  the  same  cause,  bears  and  lynxes  also  madly  fly  for 
tall  timber,  to  the  hilarity  of  many  a  hunter.  They  are 
wise  to  side-step  quickly  whenever  they  hear  a  roar 
higher  up. 

But  the  mountain  sheep  and  goats  are  different.  They 
dwell  mostly  where  the  snow-slides  start,  and  they  fear 
the  latter  very  little.  A  goat  cares  naught  for  a  falling 
rock,  and  to  him  an  avalanche  is  an  incident  of  passing 
interest,  no  more.  Mr.  W.  H.  Wright  tells  me  that  he 
once  rolled  several  rocks  directly  over  a  goat  that  was 
feeding  close  to  the  foot  of  a  mountain  wall,  and  the  ani- 
mal coolly  went  on  with  his  luncheon. 

In  order  that  I  may  here  place  before  the  Reader 
an  exact  and  authoritative  statement  regarding  the  genesis 
and  exodus  of  avalanches  in  the  Canadian  Rockies,  our 
mountain  savant,  Mr.  Charles  L.  Smith,  has  kindly 
written  this: 

SNOW-SLIDES,  AND  THEIR  DANGERS 

"  But  few  people,  except  those  living  in  a  mountainous 
country,  have  any  idea  of  the  tremendous  force  of  a  snow- 
slide.  There  are  two  kinds,  one  of  which  we  call  a  '  dry 
§]ide,'  and  the  other  a  '  wet  slide.' 


284  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

"  On  account  of  the  wet  and  heavy  condition  of  the 
snow,  the  wet  slide  has  the  greatest  force,  carrying  before 
it  everything  that  offers  any  resistance,  except  solid  rock. 
These  descend  chiefly  in  the  spring,  the  time  varying 
according  to  the  weather.  After  repeated  freezing  and 
thawing,  the  snow  becomes  granulated  and  coarse,  so 
much  so  that  it  has  little  or  no  adhesive  qualities,  even 
under  slight  pressure.  When  in  this  condition,  it  is  ex- 
tremely dangerous  to  disturb  it,  as  the  slightest  jar,  or 
anything  touching  it,  often  will  set  thousands  of  tons  of 
it  in  motion.  Once  it  is  under  way  it  runs  like  water, 
at  least  as  long  as  the  ground  is  steep,  and  it  meets  with 
no  firm  resistance.  But  once  it  reaches  flat  ground  it 
stops,  and  the  pressure  from  behind  quickly  becomes  so 
heavy  that  it  is  at  once  formed  into  solid  ice,  and  any- 
thing caught  in  it  is  instantly  frozen. 

"  One  would  naturally  suppose  that  large  standing 
trees  could  withstand  a  few  feet  of  this  moving  snow, 
but  such  is  not  the  case.  Four  or  five  feet  is  sufficient  to 
break  the  largest  trees,  or  tear  them  out  by  the  roots, 
brushing  them  from  the  mountain-sides  like  so  many 
straws.  If  the  roots  hold  firmly,  the  tree  is  broken  off 
near  the  ground. 

"  In  some  respects  the  wet  slides  are  not  so  dangerous 
as  the  dry  slides,  for  the  reason  that  they  do  not  travel  so 
fast,  and  do  not  spread  out  over  so  much  ground.  They 
follow  more  closely  the  bottoms  of  the  ravines,  never 
leaving  their  beds  except  in  very  short  turns.  On  a  sharp 
curve,  the  snow  will  leave  the  bed  of  a  ravine  and  spread 
out  on  the  long  side  of  the  turn  for  a  height  of  from  fifty 


AVALANCHE    AND    SLIDE-ROCK  285 

to  a  hundred  feet;  and  woe  to  any  living  thing  that  is 
caught  in  its  toils! 

"When  the  snow  is  in  the  proper  condition,  a  very 
small  thing  indeed  will  start  a  wet  slide.  A  stone  no 
larger  than  an  egg,  falling  from  some  overhanging  rock, 
or  a  handful  of  wet  snow  slipping  from  a  shrub,  is 
all  that  is  required  to  set  acres  of  the  sodden  stuff  in 
motion.  Once  started,  its  power  is  resistless,  and  it  de- 
scends with  a  mighty  roar  that  may  be  heard  for  miles, 
carrying  everything  before  it.  When  it  is  under  full 
headway  and  strikes  standing  timber,  it  sweeps  it  down 
like  grass  before  a  sickle.  The  trees  fall  backward  like 
grain  before  the  reaper,  and  are  carried  down  and 
ground  to  kindling-wood.  In  many  respects  the  dry 
slide  differs  from  the  wet  slide.  It  comes  down  only 
in  very  cold  weather,  when  the  snow  is  fresh  and  light. 
While  it  does  not  have  the  crushing  weight  of  the  wet 
slide,  it  is  by  far  the  most  dangerous  to  human  life. 
Generally  it  is  started  by  the  settling  of  the  snow.  In 
all  high  mountains  where  snow  falls  deep,  one  will 
notice  that  in  passing  over  a  body  of  newly-fallen  snow, 
sometimes  it  will  suddenly  drop,  as  it  were,  with  a  swish- 
ing sound,  and  settle  from  one  half  to  two  inches.  When 
this  happens  on  very  steep  ground  it  will  slide,  and  more 
especially  if  there  is  crusted  snow  underneath,  affording 
it  a  smooth  surface  to  start  upon. 

"  A  dry  slide  travels  more  swiftly  than  a  wet  one  for 
the  reason  that  it  completely  fills  the  air,  and  creates  a 
driving  wind  equal  to  a  tornado.  When  in  sweeping 
down  a  steep  drop  it  reaches  a  sharp  turn,  it  will  spread 


286  CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

out  and  run  up  on  the  mountain-side  sometimes  five  hun- 
dred feet;  or,  diving  into  a  canyon,  it  will  dash  up  the 
opposite  side  for  scores  of  feet,  carrying  with  it  large  trees 
and  stones.  Often  a  dry  slide  is  half  a  mile  wide,  and 
any  one  caught  in  its  path  is  almost  sure  to  be  either  in- 
stantly killed,  or  buried  in  the  blinding,  seething  mass, 
of  snow,  and  smothered. 

"  If  a  hunter  should  be  crossing  the  path  of  an  on- 
coming slide,  even  if  it  were  but  a  few  hundred  feet 
wide,  he  could  never  hope  to  reach  safe  ground;  but  if 
one  is  in  a  steep  gulch  and  near  a  turn,  by  acting  quickly 
one  may  possibly  have  a  fair  chance  to  escape  by  good 
judgment  and  quick  action.  One  must  always  climb  up 
on  the  short  side  of  the  turn,  no  matter  what  obstacles  are 
in  the  way.  In  such  a  situation,  a  man's  impulse  would 
be  to  take  the  wrong  side  because  it  is  always  more  clear 
of  brush;  but  this  open  ground  is  only  a  snare,  and  the 
fact  of  its  being  clear  should  always  teach  us  to  keep 
away. 

*'  Where  a  gulch  is  straight  for  a  long  distance,  the  one 
in  peril  may  then  choose  the  shortest  way  out.  The  dan- 
gers of  these  slides  are  not  so  much  from  starting  the  snow 
one's  self,  as  in  being  caught  while  crossing  the  foot  of 
the  slide-way,  at  the  base  of  the  mountain.  The  dry 
slides  are  so  swift  and  terrible  that  the  wind  caused  by 
them  sometimes  uproots  timber  some  distance  away. 

"  Slides  on  southern  slopes  are  less  liable  to  start  by 
being  disturbed  high  up,  except  immediately  after  a 
storm,  or  in  the  early  spring.  As  they  are  affected  by  the 
sun  they  soon  become  crusted,  but  on  the  northern  slopes, 


Drawn  by  Charles   13.  Hudson,  fi\ini   i.lb.t.  ..^laph   liy   Philliijs. 

A   Great   Snow-Slide 

The  total  lensrth  of  this  slide  is  about  two  mile 


AVALANCHE    AND    SLIDE-ROCK  287 

where  the  sun  does  not  strike,  they  are  liable  to  start  at 
any  time." 

In  the  mountains  of  southeastern  British  Columbia, 
the  spring  months  are  beset  with  perils.  The  open  season 
for  avalanches  is  from  February  i  to  May  15,  and  during 
that  period  many  men, — sometimes  whole  parties  to- 
gether,— have  been  destroyed.  In  the  early  spring  of 
1905  a  bear  hunter  from  New  York  City  lost  his  life  in 
the  Fort  Steele  district.  While  crossing  the  head  of  a 
steep  slideway,  the  snow  gave  way  under  his  feet,  he 
fell,  and  started  an  avalanche  which  carried  him  down 
and  buried  him  under  an  enormous  mass  of  snow  and 
slide-rock. 

Usually  it  is  prospectors  and  bear  hunters  who  lose 
their  lives  in  snow-slides,  but  occasionally  a  settlement 
is  overwhelmed.  The  awful  catastrophe  at  Frank,  in 
1902,  wherein  nearly  a  hundred  persons  lost  their  lives,  is 
still  fresh  in  the  minds  of  all  persons  who  are  interested 
in  the  great  Northwest. 

It  is  a  bold  man,  and  it  needs  to  be  a  hardy  one,  also, 
who  goes  a-hunting  or  prospecting  in  the  summit  ranges 
of  the  Canadian  Rockies  during  any  portion  of  the  winter 
or  spring.  In  my  opinion,  those  high  interior  ranges  were 
not  made  for  winter  use,  and  it  is  unfortunate  that  the 
best  bear-hunting  is  to  be  found  only  at  the  worst  season 
of  the  year.  In  May,  after  the  bears  have  left  their  dens, 
the  mountains  are  yet  full  of  snow,  particularly  in  the 
valleys  and  the  green  timber.  Although  the  majority  of 
the  slide-ways  are  clear,  the  valleys  are  a-soak  in  snow- 


a88  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

water  which  is  colder  than  ice,  and  every  camp  is  a  wet 
one.  Naturally,  the  guides  and  hunters  go  about  with 
water-soaked  feet  and  wet  clothing,  and  if  they  do  not 
have  to  sleep  in  wet  blankets,  they  are  lucky. 

The  rheumatic  tendencies  in  all  this  are  very  great, 
and  it  is  no  wonder  that  Charlie  Smith,  and  many  other 
mountain  men  who  hunt  bear  in  the  spring,  are  afflicted 
by  that  painful  malady. 

I  was  greatly  impressed  by  the  axe-like  straightness 
with  which  an  avalanche  cuts  its  way  through  a  mountain- 
side forest.  You  never  see  a  slideway  with  ragged  edges, 
or  an  occasional  tree  standing  upon  it.  To-day  I  cannot 
remember  any  slideway  stumps.  No  army  of  laborers 
ever  cut  a  railway  line  through  a  forest  with  straighter 
sides  than  the  snow-slide  cuts  for  itself.  Trees  and  brush 
are  swept  away,  root,  stem  and  branch,  and  the  earth 
remaining  is  left  all  ready  for  cultivation.  Nature  then 
proceeds  to  plant  it  with  the  seeds  of  yellow  willow,  trail- 
ing juniper,  aspen,  hedysarum,  snow  lily,  fire-weed,  wild 
onion,  and  various  grasses. 

Naturally,  these  clearings  become  so  many  sun  gar- 
dens, and  as  the  new  vegetation  develops,  it  attracts  the 
ground-squirrel,  chipmunk  and  snow-shoe  rabbit,  insects' 
a  few  and  birds  a-many.  It  is  upon  them  that  about  nine 
bears  out  of  every  ten  are  found,  feeding,  and  either  shot, 
or  shot  at,  from  the  timber  on  one  side. 

A  very  common  agent  for  the  starting  of  avalanches 
is  the  *'  snow  comb  "  which  often  forms  on  one  side  of  a 
sharp  mountain-top,  and  overhangs  like  a  gigantic  cor- 
nice.   Sometimes  this  overhanging  comb  is  forty  or  fifty 


J 


s 


AVALANCHE    AND    SLIDE-ROCK  289 

feet  thick,  and  hangs  with  wonderful  tenacity.  A  snow 
comb  is  always  a  thing  to  be  dreaded  and  shunned.  If 
the  climber  is  upon  its  crest,  it  is  liable  to  break  away 
under  his  feet,  and  dash  him  to  destruction  in  the  crush 
and  smother  of  an  avalanche.  If  he  is  below  it,  its  fall 
upon  him  is  equally  fatal.  These  formations  start  many 
an  avalanche;  and  sometimes  they  are  so  compact  and 
hard  that  a  huge  section  of  a  snow  comb  will  roll  down 
a  mountain-side  intact. 

The  steeper  you  find  a  mountain  roof,  the  greater  will 
be  the  number  of  slides  upon  it;  but  the  more  numerous 
they  are,  the  narrower  they  are.  On  the  mountain-side 
opposite  our  camp  on  Goat  Pass,  there  are  twelve  slides 
in  a  mile,  all  very  much  alike  and  very  nicely  spaced. 
Between  twelve  gullies  there  run  up  twelve  fingers  of 
timber  and  stunted  bushes, — on  a  dozen  little  ridges,  like 
the  teeth  of  a  comb.  Near  our  camp  on  Avalanche 
Creek,  there  were  ten  or  twelve  slides  on  one  side  within 
a  space  of  three  miles,  but  they  were  much  wider,  and 
more  irregular.  As  I  remember  it,  the  one  which  piled 
up  the  forty-foot  hill  of  slide-rock  over  our  creek  was 
fully  a  quarter  of  a  mile  wide  at  its  base. 

Often  we  passed  over  fields  of  slide-rock  so  vast  and 
far  removed  from  their  parent  cliffs,  we  were  forced  to 
wonder  how  they  were  formed.  The  most  extensive  was 
that  found  in  the  big  bend  of  Avalanche  Creek,  which 
rounds  off  the  southwestern  angle  of  Phillips  Mountains. 
Where  our  pack-train  crossed  it,  on  "  the  bloody  trail," 
it  was  fully  half  a  mile  wide,  and  I  think  it  was  half  a 
mile  from  bottom  to  top. 


290  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

As  we  toiled  over  the  great  fields  of  foot-breaking 
gray  limestone, — hard  as  flint,  pointed  to  pierce,  edged 
to  cut  and  immaculately  clean, — we  could  think  only  of 
snow-slides  as  the  agencies  which  had  conveyed  them  so 
far  down  from  the  summits.  The  principle  of  slide-rock 
is  clear  enough;  but  even  with  one's  imagination  working 
over  time,  it  is  not  easy  to  figure  out  the  transportation 
of  such  enormous  quantities  of  it.  Naturally,  the  place 
for  slide-rock  is  near  the  foot  of  the  clifif  from  which  it 
fell,  and  not  three  thousand  feet  away,  in  a  mass  equal  to 
that  of  the  pyramids  of  Gizeh,  and  half  a  mile  wide. 

Take,  for  example,  the  spot  whereon  we  killed  our 
first  goats.  Originally,  the  ridge  on  which  we  stood  when 
we  fired  was  topped  by  a  clifif.  The  clifTf  turned  to  slide- 
rock  and  fell  away  until  there  remained  a  ridge  so  low 
that  no  more  slide-rock  was  given  ofif.  Then  soil  and 
timber  began  to  cover  the  ridge,  and  there  being  no 
proper  conditions  for  avalanches,  the  slide-rock  remains 
to-day  as  it  fell  so  long  ago.  Gradually  it  is  being  cov- 
ered with  soil  and  brush,  and  young  spruces;  and  finally 
"  green  timber  "  will  grow  upon  it,  and  cover  it  with  an 
evergreen  mantle. 

On  the  summit  of  the  mountain  roof  which  Charlie 
Smith  and  I  climbed  in  False  Notch,  the  manner  in  which 
Nature  pares  down  mountain  peaks  by  the  manufacture 
of  slide-rock,  was  plainly  written  out.  At  the  very  spot 
where  we  climbed,  there  once  had  been  a  rocky  clifif, 
joining  the  two  peaks  which  still  exist.  Originally  the 
two  peaks  must  have  been  merely  parts  of  one  grand 
precipice,  as  high  as  their  summits  are  to-day. 


The   Pack-Train   on  a   Great   Field   of  Slide-Rock 

The  ''bWdy  trail,"  on  Avalanche  Creek,  angle  30°. 


AVALANCHE    AND    SLIDE-ROCK 


291 


But  it  seems  that  the  centre  of  this  great  cliff  was 
softer,  or  at  least  more  friable,  than  either  end;  and  at 
that  point  there  began  a  great  slide-rock  factory.  Gradu- 
ally the  face  of  the  cliff  cracked  off  and  fell  in  ragged 
fragments;  and  the  annual  snow-slides  that  went  thunder- 
ing down  into  the  basin,  carried  with  them  great  quanti- 
ties of  talus  from  the  foot  of  the  cliff.  As  the  face  of  the 
cliff  fell  away,  and  its  summit  receded  farther  and  farther, 
the  slide-rock  built  a  new  slope  upon  the  mountain,  rising 


An  Object  Lesson  in  False  Notch. 
The  making  of  slide-rock,  and  the  destruction  of  peaks. 

higher  and  higher  toward  the  summit.  At  last  the  per- 
pendicular cliff  wall  entirely  disappeared,  and  in  its  place 
we  have  to-day  that  frightful  slope,  paved  with  naked 
slide-rock  which  is  merely  so  much  wreckage  from  the 
cliff  and  peak.  To-day,  instead  of  a  precipice  to  crown 
the  summit,  the  slide-rock  slope  extends  on  up  to  what 
once  was  the  other  side  of  the  peak.  There  it  cuts  the 
western  precipice,  and  ends  in  a  knife-edge  summit, 
"  three  feet  wide  in  some  places,  and  in  some  it's  twenty." 


292  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

The  accompanying  sketch  shows  the  situation,  both 
as  it  was  and  as  it  is  The  peak  to  the  left  is  slowly  shar- 
ing the  fate  of  its  opposite  neighbor,  but  its  summit  wall 
is  yet  well  preserved. 

Quite  rapidly  the  sharpest  peaks  and  the  sheerest  walls 
of  the  Canadian  Rockies  are  weathering  down,  and  be- 
coming talus  and  slide-rock.  And  rapidly,  also,  are  the 
avalanches  filling  up  the  valleys  with  slide-rock  and  soil, 
and  tree-trunks  torn  from  the  steep  slopes.  Eventually 
the  sharpest  of  these  peaks  will  be  rounded  ofif  into  great 
knobs,  like  Bird  Mountain  and  Bald  Mountain;  and  their 
rounded  tops  will  be  crowned  with  thick  skull-caps  of 
broken  rock.  These  mountains  are  yet  young.  If  the 
world  does  not  grow  cold  too  soon  for  them,  even  the 
tallest  of  the  peaks  between  the  Elk  and  the  Bull  may  yet 
be  broken  down  to  timberline,  and  their  rounded  tops 
may  be  covered  with  green  timber. 

Regard  them  where  you  may,  and  how  you  may,  these 
summit  ranges  tell  wonderful  stories  of  Nature's  daily 
toil  in  her  rocky  mountain  workshop. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

THE  SMALL  NEIGHBORS  OF  THE  BIG  GAME 

Animal  Life  on  the  Summits — The  Little  Chief  "Hare" — A  Four- 
Footed  Haymaker — The  Fate  of  "Little  Mike" — The  Columbia 
River  Ground-Squirrel — A  Tiny  Chipmunk — A  Plethoric  Ground- 
Squirrel — The  Yellow-Haired  Porcupine — The  Pine  Squirrel — 
The  Pack-Rat — The  Hoary  Marmot — The  Wolverine — The  Trap- 
pers' Evil  Genius — Species  of  Depredations — Charlie  Smith  Gets 
Square  with  an  Enemy — A  Wolverine  Caught  Alive. 

From  our  first  moment  on  the  summits,  we  were 
keenly  interested  in  the  smaU  mammals  and  birds  which 
dwell  with  the  goat,  sheep  and  grizzly  bear.  Amid  such 
riotous  abundance  of  mountain-side,  peak  and  valley, 
every  bit  of  animal  life  attracts  grateful  attention.  The 
vastness  of  the  mountains  makes  one  feel  so  small  that 
even  a  chipmunk  or  a  little  chief  "  hare  "  is  welcomed 
on  the  basis  of  brotherhood  in  the  great  Family  of  Living 
Things.  The  only  occurrence  on  our  trip  that  bordered 
upon  calamity  concerned  Little  Mike,  the  Pika,  whose 
story  will  be  set  down  later  on. 

On  the  summits,  small  mammalian  life  is  not  really 
abundant.  I  was  disappointed  by  the  discovery  that 
it  is  possible  to  tramp  and  climb  for  hours  at  a  stretch 
without  sight  or  sound  of  a  four-footed  creature  of  any 
kind  save  the  goat.  This  scarcity  is  doubtless  due  to  two 
causes :  the  martens  and  wolverines,  and  "  the  long  and 

^93 


294  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

dreary  winter."  When  we  reflect  that  from  October  until 
May,  almost  eight  months,  the  frozen  earth  is  locked  fast 
under  a  thick  layer  of  ice  and  snow,  it  needs  no  philoso- 
pher to  suggest  that  only  the  toughest  and  wisest  ani- 
mals can  survive  the  great  annual  test  of  endurance. 
The  bookshelves  of  our  libraries  and  our  homes  actually 
yawn  for  a  volume  which  will  tell  us,  fully  and  truly, 
how  the  small  creatures  of  the  summits  live  through  the 
awful  winters  which  we,  in  our  comfortable  homes,  shiver 
to  think  of.  As  yet  we  have  only  begun  to  learn  how 
a  few  of  the  rodents  manage  to  pull  through.  Those  of 
the  summits  surely  must  lie  for  months  in  a  torpid  state, 
more  dead  than  alive. 

No  doubt  I  am  to  blame  for  not  having  been  more 
diligent  in  devoting  time  and  labor  to  investigations  of 
the  home  life  of  the  small  rodents  with  which  we  came 
in  touch.  Perhaps  I  lost  some  opportunities  which  could 
have  been  improved;  but  really,  I  think  not.  During  the 
month  that  we  were  in  the  mountains,  it  was  a  physical 
impossibility  to  do  more  than  we  did.  My  total  sum  of 
hard  climbing  in  hunting  for  big  game,  specimen- 
making,  meat-drying,  sketching  and  note-taking  left  me 
no  time  for  the  pursuit  of  small  creatures,  either  with 
digging  tools  or  traps.  Whenever  I  wished  to  spend  half 
an  hour  in  digging  out  some  interesting  burrowing  crea- 
ture, it  always  chanced  upon  a  mountain-side  or  summit 
whereon  there  were  no  tools  with  which  to  dig.  In  dig- 
ging out  mountain  rodents,  one  needs  a  good,  healthy 
grizzly  bear  as  an  assistant. 

From  my  first  day  on  the  slide-rock,  I  became  deeply 


THE    SMALL    NEIGHBORS    OF  BIG    GAME     295 

interested  in  the  remarkable  little  creature  which  makes 
its  home  in  those  rugged  fields.  I  say  "  in  "  those  fields, 
because  his  life  upon  them  is  only  a  trifling  incident.  It 
is  the  Little  Chief  "  Hare,"  Pika,  or  "  Crying  Hare,"  * 
which  is  not  a  real  hare  at  all.  Its  three  or  four  species 
and  subspecies  occupy  a  Family  box  all  alone,  and  for 
mammals  it  surely  is  in  the  top  gallery.  It  looks  like  a 
timid,  little,  one-third-grown  gray  rabbit,  with  white  ear- 
rims  ;  and  it  has  neither  speed  nor  activity.  It  lives  solely 
by  its  wits,  in  an  atmosphere  reeking  of  grizzly  bears, 
wolverines,  martens,  weasels,  eagles  and  hawks.  It  ranges 
from  just  below  timberline  up  to  the  line  of  perpetual 
snow. 

When  you  stalk  silently  into  the  head  of  a  great  rock- 
walled  basin,  over  coarse  and  jagged  slide-rock,  to  the 
spot  where  the  first  cupful  of  water  starts  down  to  form  a 
creek  and  take  a  name,  you  listen  as  well  as  look.  As  you 
slowly  pick  your  way  along  over  the  roughest  of  all  rough 
hunting-grounds,  you  hear  a  queer  little  sound,  like  the 
"  cheep  "  of  a  monster  cricket.  It  comes  from  the  depths 
of  the  slide-rock  somewhere, — anywhere, — and  it  says  de- 
liberately but  plaintively,  "  Che-ee-ee-p!  Chee-ee-ee-p! 
Cheep!  "  It  is  a  piercing,  high-pitched  squeak,  like  the 
third  D  above  middle  C  on  your  piano.  If  you  wish  to 
see  the  owner  of  the  insect-voice,  sit  down  at  once,  remain 
perfectly  quiet,  and  watch  sharply  in  the  direction  of  the 
sound.  It  is  quite  useless  to  try  to  locate  the  voice  pre- 
cisely until  you  see  the  owner  of  it. 

In  a  reasonably  small  fraction  of  an  hour,  you  will 

*  0-cho-to  na  prtncefs. 


296  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

see  a  small  gray  form,  about  seven  inches  long  over  all, 
but  quite  tailless,  gently  slip  into  daylight  atop  of  a  chunk 
of  slide-rock  which  affords  a  level  resting  place.  If  it 
has  a  large  round  ear,  with  a  white  rim,  it  is  Pika,  the 
haymaker  of  the  slide-rock.  In  September,  and  I  know 
not  how  many  other  months,  he  hops  out  to  the  edge  of 
the  slide-rock  where  things  grow,  cuts  a  big  mouthful  of 
weedy  plants  a  foot  long,  carries  them  to  the  mouth  of 
his  den,  and  lays  them  down  atop  of  a  flat  rock,  to  cure. 
He  brings  more,  and  more,  until  he  has  amassed  a  pile 
three  inches  high.  All  the  stems  are  laid  the  same  way, 
neatly  and  systematically,  and  they  are  to  lie  there  until 
they  dry  sufficiently  that  when  finally  taken  into  the  den 
and  stowed  away  they  will  not  mould.  If  a  rock  cuts  off 
from  the  hay-pile  the  rays  of  the  descending  sun,  the  Pika 
will  promptly  move  his  hay  into  the  direct  sunshine. 

On  the  day  that  Mr.  Phillips  and  I  first  climbed  to 
the  top  of  Goat  Pass,  we  found  in  the  stunted  timber  on 
the  steepest  part  of  the  mountain-side,  three  little  piles 
of  Pika-food,  lying  across  the  top  of  a  fallen  log,  curing 
in  the  sun. 

While  we  were  measuring,  skinning  and  weighing 
my  first  mountain  goat,  a  Pika  squeaked  to  us  many  times. 
At  last  it  came  out  of  the  slide-rock  about  a  hundred  feet 
below  us,  and  sat  on  a  flat-topped  stone  viewing  the 
world.  We  watched  him  with  our  glasses  as  long  as  our 
time  would  permit,  then  I  went  down  to  take  a  look  at 
his  ranch.  As  I  approached,  he  turned  about,  and 
vanished. 

On  a  flat-topped  stone,  with  table  area  about  the  size 


THE    SMALL    NEIGHBORS    OF   BIG    GAME     297 

of  Country  Life,  lay  the  little  squeaker's  hay  pile,  freshly 
cut,  and  in  quantity  a  double  handful.  It  contained  no 
grass, — just  weed-like  plants,  with  thick  stems  and  large 
leaves.  About  one-half  the  bunch  consisted  of  squaw- 
root  {Senecio  triangularis)  ^  the  root  of  which  makes  a 
good  spring  salad  that  is  much  in  favor  with  both  white 
men  and  Indians.  There  was  a  good  showing  of  the  same 
pasque  flower  (Pulsatilla  occidentalis)  which  the  moun- 
tain goat  loves.  Of  a  plant  from  the  Saxifrage  Family, 
there  was  what  chemists  call  a  "  trace,"  and  that  was  all. 

I  set  to  work  to  follow  up  the  rock  burrow  of  our 
Pika  by  removing  stones ;  but  the  task  was  not  successful. 
Underneath  the  big  chunk  of  slide-rock  on  which  the 
hay-pile  lay  drying,  I  found  more  fodder  of  the  same 
kind,  almost  dry  enough  to  store  away.  It  had  been 
drawn  under  the  rock  so  that  the  elements  could  not  sweep 
it  away,  and  a  little  later  would  have  been  carried  farther 
in.  But  I  could  not  reach  the  end  of  the  home  burrow. 
Cavities  ran  in  several  directions,  and  the  more  stones  I 
pulled  out,  the  more  I  lost  the  trail.  Finally  I  gave  it 
up,  and  contented  myself  with  bringing  away  some  speci- 
mens from  the  collection  of  the  small  creature  who  knows 
not  only  to  make  hay  when  the  sun  shines,  but  also  where 
it  shines. 

From  first  to  last,  I  think  I  saw  half  a  dozen  Pikas, 
and  heard  twenty  crying  from  the  safe  depths  of  the 
slide-rock.  Naturally,  they  live  where  the  rock  has  fallen 
in  large  blocks,  furnishing  crevices  and  runways  large 
enough  for  them,  but  too  small  for  the  marten  or  wolver- 
ine.   I  think  the  bears  do  not  trouble  them, — which  must 


298  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

be  for  the  reason  that  it  is  useless  to  try.  No  doubt  the 
grizzlies  fail  to  get  them  from  the  same  cause  that  oper- 
ated against  me, — too  many  rocky  ramifications  per  Pika. 

The  only  serious  accident  on  our  whole  trip  occurred 
during  our  last  day  at  Camp  Necessity.  A  Little  Chief 
"  Hare  "  was  the  victim,  and  Mr.  Phillips  was  chief 
mourner. 

On  the  last  climb  which  was  made  by  Mr.  Phillips 
and  Mack  Norboe,  they  expended  much  time  and  labor 
in  catching  a  Pika  alive,  "  for  the  Zoo."  They  came  into 
camp  fairly  radiant  over  a*  difficult  task  and  a  new 
triumph,  and  at  once  placed  in  my  hands  the  black  leather 
case  of  Mr.  Phillips's  new  binocular.  A  small  hole  had 
been  drilled  in  the  cover  of  it. 

"There,  Director!  We've  brought  you  a  new  kind 
of  an  animile,  to  take  to  New  York.  We've  got  Little 
Mike  in  there!  We  worked  nearly  two  hours  to  catch 
him.  When  Mack  grabbed  him,  he  fought  like  a  little 
tiger,  and  bit  Maxie  through  his  glove.  After  we  put 
him  in  the  box  he  chippered  and  scolded  a  long  time; 
but  he's  quieted  down  now." 

When  I  saw  the  smallness  of  the  air-hole  that  had  been 
drilled  for  the  animal  through  the  thick  leather,  my  mind 
was  filled  with  dread;  and  I  hardly  could  muster  up 
courage  to  open  the  lid.  But  no  time  was  lost  on  that 
account.  When  I  looked  in,  poor  "  Little  Mike,"  as  Mr. 
Phillips  called  him,  was  curled  up  in  the  bottom,  stone 
dead. 

For  several  days  Mr.  Phillips  was  fairly  racked  by 
regret  and  remorse.    That  small  creature's  death  haunted 


THE    SMALL    NEIGHBORS    OF  BIG    GAME     299 

him  nearly  to  Minneapolis,  and  he  continually  wondered 
whether  "  poor  Little  Mike  "  smothered  because  they  did 
not  give  him  enough  air.  I  think  the  animal  was  hurt 
internally  when  captured,  or  else  died  of  a  "  broken 
heart,"  as  even  bear  and  deer  sometimes  do  when  caught 
and  crated. 

The  Columbia  River  Ground-Squirrel,  {Citellus 
columbianus) ,  is  the  special  prey  of  the  grizzly  bear.  On 
the  grass  slides  and  meadows  at  timberline,  we  saw  at 
least  fifty  holes  that  had  been  dug  by  bears  in  quest  of 
those  animals.  In  southeastern  British  Columbia  this 
creature  is  called  a  "  gopher,"  but  that  term  is  a  mis- 
nomer. The  real  gophers  are  very  short  and  thick-bodied 
villains,  with  large  claws  and  cheek-pouches,  and  they 
belong  to  a  family  well  removed  from  the  Squirrel 
Family. 

The  Ground-Squirrel  mentioned  above  looks  some- 
what like  a  common  gray  squirrel  with  a  half-length  tail; 
but  in  reality  its  pelage  is  marked  with  fine  cross-bars. 
It  has  the  habits  of  a  spermophile,  and  when  alarmed  sits 
up  at  the  mouth  of  its  burrow,  very  erect  and  post-like. 
Evidently  it  does  not  burrow  deeply,  for  none  of  the 
holes  dug  by  the  grizzlies  descended  more  than  four  feet, 
and  the  majority  of  them  did  not  exceed  a  depth  of  three 
feet.  The  question  is,  as  winter  approaches  do  they  bur- 
row on  down  below  the  frost  line,  or  do  they  hibernate 
in  shallow  burrows,  in  a  torpid  condition,  as  does  our 
common  chipmunk,  with  six  heart-beats  to  the  minute 
and  a  blood  circulation  that  is  scarcely  perceptible? 

We  saw  several  examples  of  the  very  small  and  dark- 


300  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

colored  Bufif-Bellied  Chipmunk  (Eutamias  iuteiventris) , 
and  killed  one  which  we  did  not  mean  to  kill.  While 
passing  over  a  meadow  on  the  bank  of  Kaiser  Lake,  our 
dog  flushed  the  tiny  creature,  several  yards  from  its  bur- 
row. In  the  mix-up  that  followed,  of  chipmunk,  dog 
and  men,  the  frightened  animal  leaped  upon  Mr.  Phil- 
lips's leg,  and  then  upon  mine,  seeking  refuge  from  the 
dog.  We  all  cried  out  "  Save  it!  Save  it! "  and  I  tried 
to  shelter  it  in  my  clothes.  But  it  sprang  off,  and  was 
seized  by  Kaiser.  As  quickly  as  we  could  we  rescued  it; 
and  when  I  took  it  in  my  palm,  it  turned  over,  bit  my 
finger  until  it  bled,  then  died  happy.  As  laid  out  it  meas- 
ured only  four  and  three-fourth  inches  in  length  of  head 
and  body,  tail  three  and  one-half  inches. 

A  solitary  example  of  the  Ashy-Mantled  Ground- 
Squirrel,  with  the  appalling  Latin  name  of  Callospermo- 
philus  lateralis  cinerescens,  was  the  handsomest  rodent 
we  observed.  From  the  top  of  the  loftiest  ridge  trodden 
by  any  one  during  our  trip,  whither  Charlie  Smith  and 
I  had  gone  on  a  "  side  hunt "  from  Camp  Necessity,  we 
looked  far  down  into  the  maze  of  mountains  and  valleys, 
basins  and  slides  that  make  up  Wilson's  Creek.  Momen- 
tarily we  expected  to  see  big  game  of  some  kind,  and  we 
were  hunting  very  carefully,  through  a  scattered  growth 
of  stunted  spruces.  At  last  Kaiser  stopped  short,  ele- 
vated his  nose  and  sniflfed  significantly  to  windward. 
Was  it  sheep,  or  grizzly  bears?  All  ready  to  burst  with 
readiness,  we  waited  for  the  foe,  Kaiser  sniffing  crescendo, 
and  pointing  down  the  mountain. 

At  last  we  saw  the  game.     It  was  a  big,  fat  Ashy- 


THE    SMALL    NEIGHBORS    OF   BIG    GAME     301 

Mantled  Ground-Squirrel,  marked  on  each  side  with  a 
very  broad  light-colored  band  between  two  equally  broad 
black  ones.  Its  sides  seemed  ready  to  burst  from  good 
feeding.  As  we  all  stood  motionless,  he  galloped  up 
within  five  yards  of  us,  saw  us,  and  stopped  to  look.  For 
fully  three  minutes  he  stared  at  us  and  we  at  him,  and  no 
one  moved.  Then  he  made  a  rush  of  about  six  feet,  dived 
into  his  burrow  and  disappeared.  We  tried  hard  to  dig 
him  out,  but  the  ground  was  so  hard  and  stony  we  had  to 
give  it  up. 

The  Western  Yellow-Haired  Porcupine  *  was  suffi- 
ciently numerous  that  we  saw  six,  all  on  Avalanche  Creek. 
On  September  11,  at  the  close  of  our  great  day  with 
goats  on  Phillips  Peak,  we  overtook  two  porcupines  wad- 
dling along  the  trail  a  mile  above  our  new  camp.  At 
first  they  refused  to  turn  off  and  permit  us  to  pass,  so  we 
leisurely  strolled  along  at  their  heels  for  nearly  two  hun- 
dred yards.  They  walked  as  rapidly  as  they  could,  but 
their  legs  were  clumsy,  and  their  best  speed  was  slow. 
Finally  they  arrived  opposite  a  drift  of  logs,  over  the 
bed  of  the  creek.  Quitting  the  trail  abruptly,  they  sham- 
bled down  the  steep  bank,  scrambled  into  the  thickest 
chaos  of  logs,  and  flung  themselves  down  in  most  absurd 
fashion,  under  the  logs  and  out  of  sight.  That  night  we 
were  fearful  that  the  spiny  wayfarers  would  take  to  the 
trail  once  more,  and  land  in  our  tents;  but  they  refrained 
from  troubling  us. 

I  expected  that  the  Oregon  Pine  Squirrel  f  would  be 
plentiful  on  those  mountains  in  September,  but  they  were 

*  Er-e-thi'zon  ef-i-xan'thm,  f  Sci-u'rus  hudsoniuf  richardsoni. 


302  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

not.  I  do  not  recall  that  we  saw  more  than  one,  a  very 
cheerful  and  saucy  individual  who  inhabited  a  big  spruce 
at  Camp  Hornaday.  Every  morning  he  would  awaken 
very  early,  perch  high  in  the  big  spruce  nearest  to  our 
tent,  and  bark  and  scold  at  Kaiser,  the  horses,  the  cook, 
and  every  living  thing  in  sight.  His  truculent  chatter, 
heard  daily  for  many  days,  now  is  associated  with  the 
smell  of  boiling  coffee,  and  the  sizzle  of  goat  steaks  in 
the  frying-pan.  On  general  principles  he  objected  to  our 
presence  there,  but  whenever  he  saw  Kaiser  he  became 
positively  abusive.  When  very  angry  his  bark  was  like 
the  yapping  of  a  small  fox. 

This  squirrel,  which  is  very  like  our  eastern  red 
squirrel,  has  a  habit  which  implies  genuine  reasoning 
powers.  It  collects  mushrooms, — which  it  does  not  eat 
when  fresh, — puts  them  in  the  sun,  and  dries  them  until 
they  are  acceptable.  The  average  eastern  hunter  does  not 
readily  believe  that  the  half-dozen  or  more  mushrooms 
which  he  finds  lying  in  a  row  a-top  of  a  log,  or  grouped 
on  a  rock,  or  fixed  in  the  forks  of  young  conifers,  were 
really  gathered  and  placed  there  by  red  squirrels,  to  cure. 
But  it  is  true.  Charlie  Smith  says  that  the  dried  product 
is  stored  for  winter  use. 

The  Pack-Rat*  has  already  been  mentioned.  Al- 
though this  droll  and  interesting  creature  inhabits  the 
mountains  quite  up  to  timberline,  it  chanced  that  we  saw 
none  after  leaving  Smith's  ranch.  Jack  Lewis  declared 
that  when  he  and  Mr.  Phillips  were  benighted  on  Sheep 
Mountain,  and  he  fell  asleep  by  the  smouldering  camp- 

*  Ne-o-to'ma  ctn-e're-a  drummondt. 


THE    SMALL    NEIGHBORS    OF  BIG    GAME     303 

fire,  a  Pack-Rat  tried  to  steal  his  cap  from  his  head.  It 
is  really  strange  that  the  Pack-Rat  of  the  British  Colum- 
bia mountains  is  just  as  mischievous  and  ingenious  as  his 
brethren  in  the  Florida  pine  woods,  nearly  3,000  miles 
away.  The  northwestern  animal  secretes  a  very  disagree- 
able odor,  which  is  emitted  under  excitement,  perhaps  in 
the  line  of  self-defence. 

The  Hoary  Marmot,  or  Whistler  *  was  constantly 
looked  for,  and  expected,  but  seen  only  once  on  the  entire 
trip.  I  saw  one  run  out  of  sight  around  a  spur-root  of  a 
mountain,  just  below  timberline,  as  hurriedly  as  if  he 
knew  there  were  guns  about.  This  creature  is  merely 
an  over-grown,  grizzly-gray,  mountain  woodchuck,  who 
is  so  careful  of  himself  that  it  is  practically  impossible 
to  procure  living  specimens  at  a  sum  even  remotely  corre- 
sponding to  their  exhibition  value.  Several  men  have 
endeavored  to  catch  specimens  for  us  at  $15  each,  but 
thus  far  not  one  has  been  taken  on  that  basis. 

The  Snow-Shoe  Rabbit  must  be  counted  with  the 
small  mountain-dwellers  of  the  Order  Glires  (Rodents), 
but  they  were  so  rare  that  I  did  not  see  even  one  specimen. 
Mr.  Phillips  saw  one,  at  the  big  bend  of  Avalanche 
Creek,  on  Roth  Mountain.  Their  great  rarity  is  probably 
due  to  the  martens,  lynxes  and  wolverines.  As  those 
fierce  fur-bearers  disappear  via  the  trap  line,  all  the 
rodents  of  the  mountains  should  become  more  abundant. 

Of  all  the  carnivorous  animals  (Order  Ferce)  inhab- 
iting the  region  which  was  ours  for  a  month,  the  Grizzly 
Bear,  or  Silver-Tip,  stands  first;  and  he  has  already  been 

*  Arc-to'mys  pru-i-no'sus. 


304  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

set  forth.  The  Black  Bear  inhabits  the  same  territory 
as  the  Grizzly,  but  around  Phillips  Peak  it  appears  to 
be  less  abundant.  The  Cinnamon  Bear  is  merely  a  color 
phase  of  the  Black  Bear,  but,  remarkable  to  say,  it  is 
absent  from  all  the  territory  of  the  latter  east  of  the  great 
plains.     The  question  why  this  is  so,  is  still  unanswered. 

The  Puma,  or  Mountain  "  Lion,"  *  inhabits  the  Elk 
River  valley,  but  its  tenancy  hangs  on  a  very  slender 
thread.  The  most  interesting  fact  that  can  be  mentioned 
regarding  it  is  that  we  were  then  at  the  northern  limit 
of  a  species  which  has  the  longest  geographical  range  of 
any  large  feline  animal, — from  Phillips  Peak  to  Pata- 
gonia. 

We  have  fallen  into  the  habit  of  regarding  the  Puma 
as  a  hardy,  snow-defying  animal,  most  at  home  in  the 
western  Rockies.  But  this  view  is  entirely  wrong.  In 
reality  Felis  concolor  is  more  at  home  in  the  tropics  of 
northern  South  America  than  on  the  snowy  wastes  of  the 
American  Rockies.  The  Puma  is  to  Colorado  as  the 
tiger  is  to  Corea. 

We  saw  no  Pumas,  nor  even  puma  tracks;  but  in  1904 
Charles  L.  Smith  caught  one  near  the  Sulphur  Spring, 
and  another  was  taken  shortly  after  on  Pass  Creek. 

Although  no  specimens  of  the  Canada  Lynx,  or  Loup 
Cervier,f  were  seen  during  our  September  on  the  sum- 
mits, our  guides  were  more  fortunate  later  on.  During 
their  trapping  operations,  in  November,  they  caught  two 
fine,  large  specimens.  One  was  taken  on  Avalanche 
Creek,  and  very  well  photographed  by  Mr.  Smith,  in  the 

*  Fehs  concolor,  f  Lynx  canadensis. 


The   Western   Yellow- Haired    Porcupine 

A  dangerous  animal  in  camp  at  nijilit. 


Canada   Lynx,    in   Trap 


THE    SMALL    NEIGHBORS    OF   BIG    GAME     305 

trap.  This  animal  is  distinguished  from  its  nearest  rela- 
tive, the  "  bob-cat "  of  the  North,  by  the  very  long  black 
pencil  on  the  tip  of  each  ear,  its  enormous  feet  and  legs, 
and  its  uniform  color  of  pepper-and-salt  gray.  Ameri- 
can lynxes  of  lower  degree  are  more  or  less  spotted,  and 
have  either  very  small  ear-pencils,  or  none  at  all.  The 
bay  lynx,  red  lynx  or  bob-cat — of  which  there  are  two 
or  three  forms,  which  hopelessly  run  together — is  much 
more  common  than  the  fearsome  Canadian  species. 

The  Wolverine,  Carcajou, or — as  the  Indians  of  Wash- 
ington call  it — the  Mountain  Devil,  is  quite  at  home  in 
the  Elk  River  mountains,  but  his  shrewdness  is  so  great 
that  he  is  seldom  seen  outside  a  trap.  Unquestionably,  this 
is  the  most  interesting  small  mammal  of  the  northwest. 
In  some  places  it  is  called  the  Skunk-"  Bear." 

If  you  meet  a  strange  trapper  and  desire  to  take  a 
measure  of  his  moral  leanings,  ask  his  opinion  of  the 
moral  character  and  mental  capacity  of  the  Wolverine. 
I  have  heard  trappers  solemnly  declare  that  no  matter 
how  much  any  one  may  malign  this  particular  devil, 
its  character  always  is  much  blacker  than  it  can  be 
painted. 

The  Wolverine  is  the  largest,  the  strongest,  most 
vicious  and  most  cunning  member  of  the  Marten  Family. 
In  comparison  with  the  size  of  its  body,  its  teeth  are  of 
enormous  size  and  power.  It  is  about  as  large  as  a  fox 
terrier,  and  ten  times  as  savage  as  a  bad  bull-dog.  It  is 
built  on  the  plan  and  specifications  of  a  Malay  sun-bear, 
and  has  the  same  evil  eye,  wedge-shaped  head,  splay  feet 
and  truculent  manner.     It  has  long  hair,   ivory-white 


3o6  CAMP-FIRES  IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

claws,  and  a  mean-looking  tail  that  looks  as  if  it  had  been 
cut  off  half  way,  and  healed  up  with  a  wisp  end.  The 
animal  runs  with  its  tail  down,  but  when  it  stops  to  look 
back,  up  goes  the  tail,  skunk-like.  In  spying  out  the  land, 
a  Wolverine  often  rises  high  on  its  hind  legs. 

A  full-grown  Wolverine  stands  about  twelve  inches 
high  at  the  shoulder,  its  head  and  body  are  about  thirty 
inches,  and  tail  ten  inches,  exclusive  of  the  hair. 

The  general  color  of  this  animal  is  dingy  or  smoky 
brown,  but  there  is  a  large  light-colored  patch  on  the 
side.  On  the  head  the  hair  is  short  and  close,  but  on  the 
body,  neck  and  tail  it  is  long  and  flowing.  Its  eyes  are 
black,  and  so  are  its  legs,  but  its  claws  are  conspicuously 
white,  and  very  large. 

The  Wolverine  is  a  fairly  good  climber,  and  game 
hung  in  a  tree  is  not  safe  from  its  destructive  jaws.  Mr. 
J.  W.  Tyrrell  once  outwitted  the  wolverines  of  the  Barren 
Grounds  by  erecting  a  cache  on  four  very  high  posts,  then 
trimming  the  posts  and  peeling  off  all  the  bark,  after 
which  he  nailed  six  cod-hooks  to  each  post.  The  Wolver- 
ines tried  very  hard  to  climb  up  to  that  cache,  but  failed. 

The  Wolverine  is  a  great  traveller;  but  Mr.  J.  W. 
Tyrrell  says  that  those  he  chased  on  the  Barren  Grounds 
could  not  run  very  fast,  and  he  easily  outran  them. 
Charles  L.  Smith  says  that  this  animal  has  the  widest 
individual  range  of  any  carnivorous  animal  with  which 
he  is  acquainted,  not  even  excepting  the  grizzly  bear. 
He  says  that  from  its  home  den  a  Wolverine  will  travel 
from  twenty  to  thirty  miles  in  each  direction.  Like  all 
the  short-legged  marten-like  animals,  it  travels  by  a  series 


THE    SMALL    NEIGHBORS    OF   BIG    GAME     307 

of  long  bounds;  or,  in  other  words,  it  goes  at  a  gallop. 
Its  specialty  is  following  up  a  line  of  marten  traps;  and 
on  this  point  my  good  friends  Charlie  Smith  and  the 
Norboe  brothers  became  quite  wrought  up.  This  is  the 
substance  of  what  they  told  me: 

A  Wolverine  will  follow  the  trail  of  a  trapper,  visit 
every  one  of  his  marten  traps  (or  any  others,  for  that 
matter),  spring  every  trap,  steal  every  bait,  and  take 
out  every  marten  that  has  been  caught.  If  the  marten 
is  not  dead,  it  is  killed  and  torn  out  of  the  trap ;  and  if 
dead  and  frozen,  it  is  seized  by  the  body  and  violently 
jerked  until  the  trapped  leg  is  torn  off  the  body,  and  the 
skin  spoiled.  The  dead  body  will  then  be  carried 
some  distance,  a  neat  hole  will  be  dug  straight  down  into 
the  snow  for  perhaps  two  feet,  and  the  dead  marten  is 
cached  at  the  bottom.  Then  the  snow  is  replaced  in  the 
hole,  tamped  down  and  neatly  smoothed  over  on  the  sur- 
face, after  which  the  Wolverine  defiles  the  snow  over 
the  grave,  and  goes  his  wicked  way. 

By  these  signs,  the  trapper  knows  where  to  dig  for 
his  stolen  marten.  J.  R.  Norboe  once  recovered  four 
martens  out  of  six  that  had  been  stolen  by  a  Wolverine 
on  one  line  of  traps. 

In  the  Elk  River  Valley,  C.  L.  Smith  once  had  about 
seventy  miles  of  traps,  and  every  mile  of  his  lines  was 
gone  over  by  Wolverines.  He  said,  "  They  caused  me 
a  great  deal  of  loss,  and  at  last  they  nearly  drove  me 
crazy."  He  once  set  a  trap  for  a  Wolverine,  and  put  be- 
hind it  a  moose  skull  bearing  some  flesh.  The  Wolverine 
came  in  the  night,  started  in  at  a  point  well  away  from 


3o8   CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

the  trap,  dug  a  tunnel  through  six  feet  of  snow,  fetched 
up  at  the  head, — well  behind  the  trap, — and  dragged  it 
in  triumph  through  his  tunnel  and  away. 

The  female  Wolverine  has  four  young  at  a  birth,  and 
they  are  born  in  December.  The  mothers  are  more  fierce 
and  troublesome  in  February  and  March  than  either 
earlier  or  later,  for  it  is  during  those  months  that  they 
are  required  to  work  hardest  in  feeding  their  young. 

Contrary  to  the  statements  of  the  earlier  writings  upon 
the  Wolverine,  the  three  trappers  in  our  party  united  in 
expressing  the  opinion  that  this  animal  is  not  a  gluttonous 
feeder,  and  that  the  amount  of  food  it  consumes  is  pro- 
portionately no  greater  than  that  of  other  members  of 
the  Marten  Family, — marten,  fisher,  mink,  otter,  etc. 
The  Edwards  Brothers,  animal  showmen,  have  today  a 
captive  Wolverine  which  they  have  kept  for  twelve 
years,  and  its  daily  ration  of  meat  is  only  half  a  pound. 

To  a  trapper,  the  Wolverine's  crowning  injury  and 
unpardonable  insult  is  the  invasion  of  his  cabin,  during 
his  absence.  Then  it  is,  with  the  trapper  far  from  home, 
and  his  all-too-scanty  winter's  store  of  flour,  bacon,  coffee 
and  sugar  laid  bare  and  at  his  mercy,  that  the  eternal 
cussedness  of  Gulo  luscus  rises  to  the  sublime.  He  rips 
open  every  sack  and  parcel,  scatters  flour,  coffee,  sugar 
and  grease  in  one  chaotic  mass  upon  the  cabin  floor,  and 
wallows  in  it,  with  ghoulish  glee.  He  goes  to  the  bunk, 
and  with  fiendish  persistence  tears  the  blankets  to  shreds. 
The  stove  is  about  the  only  thing  in  the  cabin  that  goes 
unscathed.  At  the  last,  he  defiles  to  the  utmost  every 
edible  that  he  cannot  carry  away,  and  departs. 


THE    SMALL    NEIGHBORS    OF   BIG    GAME     309 

Charlie  Smith  tells  with  much  fervor  how  he  got  even 
with  a  Wolverine  which  made  several  unsuccessful  at- 
tempts to  raid  his  cabin.  One  morning  before  starting 
out  on  his  trap-line,  he  buried  a  trap  directly  in  front 
of  his  cabin  door,  and  set  the  door  slightly  ajar.  Just 
inside  the  door,  he  placed  some  meat.  Then,  on  the  roof- 
peak  of  his  cabin,  at  one  end  of  the  structure  he  rigged 
a  balanced  pole,  like  a  well-sweep,  drew  down  the  small 
end,  and  under  it  very  carelessly  hung  a  deer's  head,  in 
a  small  tree.  Directly  under  the  head  he  set  a  trap,  and 
attached  it  to  the  end  of  the  pole. 

He  figured  out  the  mental  process  of  the  Wolverine 
in  this  wise:  He  will  suspect  the  trap  in  front  of  the 
door,  and  avoid  it.  But  he  will  discover  the  deer's  head, 
and  say,  "Aha!  This  fellow  has  forgotten  that  /  am 
about!"  and  straightway  he  will  stand  up  on  his  hind 
legs  and  reach  for  the  head,  with  his  front  feet  against 
the  tree. 

The  Wolverine  came,  and  saw,  and  thought,  and  did 
precisely  as  the  trapper  had  figured  it  out  that  he  would; 
and  that  night  when  Charlie  came  home,  he  found  his 
cunning  enemy  hanging  high  in  the  air,  "  and  dead  as 
a  wedge." 

In  the  United  States,  the  Wolverine  is  now  so  rare 
that  it  is  almost  non-existent;  but  it  is  not  extinct.  In 
British  Columbia,  and  northward  thereof  far  into  the 
Barren  Grounds,  it  is  generally  distributed,  though  it  is 
nowhere  really  numerous.  Rarely  indeed  is  one  ever  seen 
afoot  by  hunter  or  trapper,  save  in  the  far  north.  In  all 
C.  L.  Smith's  years  of  trapping,  he  has  seen  only  three; 


3IO  CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

and  curiously  enough,  two  of  those  he  saw,  ana  shot  at, 
were  at  the  carcass  of  my  first  goat. 

After  we  left  the  mountains  our  three  guides  returned 
to  the  scene  of  our  late  adventures,  and  went  to  trapping. 
Smith  worked  Avalanche  Creek,  Mack  Norboe  took  his 
old  cabin  on  Bull  River,  and  John  Norboe  went  to  Lake 
Monro.     I  think  Charlie  Smith  had  the  most  fun. 

Within  a  hundred  feet  of  the  spot  where  he,  Phillips 
and  I  sat  on  the  bank  of  the  creek  and  ate  our  luncheon 
on  the  day  we  first  went  bear  hunting  down  to  Roth 
Mountain,  he  caught  a  big  and  savage  Wolverine,  once 
more  scoring  against  his  ancient  enemy.  To  make  sure 
that  a  captured  animal  should  not  chew  himself  out  of 
his  trap,  he  rigged  his  favorite  engine  of  destruction — a 
spring-pole, — and  to  the  end  of  this  attached  the  chain 
of  his  trap.  The  Wolverine  sprung  the  trap,  the  trap 
sprung  the  pole,  and  Gulo  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  wait 
for  Charlie. 

When  Charlie  came,  he  found  the  Wolverine  held  by 
two  toes  only,  and  therefore  practically  unhurt.  This  was 
great  fortune,  and  at  once  the  trapper  resolved  to  earn 
an  additional  increment  by  sending  the  animal  alive  to 
the  New  York  Zoological  Society.  He  had  no  cage,  nor 
was  it  possible  to  make  one  on  the  spot.  Single-handed 
and  alone,  he  tied  the  jaws  of  that  raging  musteline 
demon,  tied  its  legs  and  feet,  also,  made  the  Mountain 
Devil  into  a  package,  took  it  on  his  back,  and  carried  it 
through  a  foot  of  snow,  down  the  creek  six  miles,  to  his 
cabin. 

There  he  made  for  the  beast  a  rough  cage  of  poles. 


The   Wolverine,    in   Trap 


The   Wolverine  in   New   York 


THE    SMALL    NEIGHBORS    OF   BIG    GAME     311 

and  later  on  he  and  his  partners  carried  cage  and  contents 
out  to  the  wagon  road  in  Elk  valley.  The  labor  and 
hardships  they  endured  in  this  task  are  almost  indescriba- 
ble. They  slept  on  the  snow,  without  shelter,  with  the 
temperature  at  20  degrees  below  zero. 

But  at  last  they  won  out;  and  the  Wolverine  at  last 
reached  New  York,  alive  and  well.  It  was  the  first  speci- 
men of  that  species  to  reach  the  Zoological  Park,  and  was 
treated  with  the  utmost  consideration.  Two  photographs 
of  it  are  reproduced  herewith. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

SMALL  NEIGHBORS  OF  THE  BIG  GAME — Continued 

The  Pine  Marten— The  Coyote— Mule  Deer— Winter  Birds  Only— 
Franklin  Grouse,  or  "Fool-Hen" — White-Tailed  Ptarmigan — 
Harlequin  Duck — Water  Ouzel — Eagles  and  Hawks — Clark's  Nut- 
cracker, Canada  Jay  and  Magpie. 

The  Pine  Marten  *  is  now  the  most  important  and 
valuable  fur-bearing  animal  of  British  Columbia.  Fine, 
dark  pelts  are  worth  as  high  as  thirty  dollars  each;  but 
the  lighter  ones  run  as  low  as  three  dollars.  The  beaver 
and  otter  are  done,  at  least  in  southeastern  British  Colum- 
bia, but  of  Martens  there  are  yet  a  goodly  number.  Dur- 
ing their  October  and  November  trapping  (1905)  in  the 
mountains  between  the  Elk  and  Bull  Rivers,  our  three 
guides  caught  fifty-three  Marten, — a  very  fine  catch  for 
so  short  a  period. 

The  Marten  is  an  animal  of  about  the  size  of  a  half- 
grown  red  fox,  and  looks  like  one.  In  head  and  body  it 
is  seventeen  inches  long,  and  its  tail  is  seven  inches.  Ordi- 
narily its  body  is  brownish-yellow,  but  the  legs  are  two 
or  three  shades  darker.  It  has  three  kinds  of  hair.  From 
the  standard  color,  the  coat  of  this  animal  shades  darker 
until  it  becomes  almost  black. 

The  Marten  is  in  every  sense  a  predatory  animal,  and 

*  Mustela   americana. 
312 


THE    SMALL    NEIGHBORS    OF   BIG    GAME     313 

a  very  savage  one,  but  it  is  not  a  double-dyed  villain, 
brimful  of  malice  and  mischief,  like  the  wolverine.  In 
the  wilds  it  is  a  great  hunter,  but  it  seldom  turns  poacher 
and  poultry-killer.  It  hunts  in  the  daytime,  and  cannot 
properly  be  called  a  nocturnal  animal.  It  is  an  expert 
tree-climber,  and  it  is  said  that  Martens  catch  red 
squirrels  out  of  their  own  tree-tops.  Charlie  Smith 
has  shot  five  or  six  Martens  out  of  trees,  on  Bull  River. 
In  descending  a  tree,  a  Marten  goes  head  first,  like  a 
squirrel. 

We  found  Marten  signs  quite  up  to  timberline,  and 
we  know  that  in  the  autumn  they  eat  mice,  for  we  saw 
proof  of  it.  Of  course  they  feed  upon  small  mammals 
and  birds  of  every  kind  they  can  catch.  In  summer  they 
eat  berries  of  several  kinds.  In  winter  they  live  chiefly 
by  catching  mice  under  logs,  where  the  snow  does  not 
drift  in  and  pack  tightly.  By  means  of  these  open  places 
under  logs,  and  their  runways  under  the  snow,  the  mice 
move  about  quite  freely,  and  thus  serve  the  Marten  with 
many  a  warm  luncheon,  of  small  dimensions.  When 
pressed  for  food  the  Marten  digs  down  beside  a  fallen 
log  until  he  reaches  the  open  space  under  it,  and  there 
he  travels  to  and  fro,  practically  under  the  snow,  for 
considerable  distances. 

Even  where  they  are  abundant.  Marten  are  rarely 
seen  until  they  are  trapped.  Once  however,  on  Bull 
River,  after  a  fire  in  green  timber,  eight  martens  were 
seen  in  one  day,  just  below  the  fire  line.  This  animal  is 
a  good  traveller,  and  runs  rapidly,  by  long  bounds  which 
cover  from  three  to  six  feet  at  a  leap. 


314  CAMP-FIRES   IN   THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

In  temper  the  Marten  is  very  savage,  and  also  finely 
courageous.  When  caught,  it  fiercely  glares  upon  the 
trapper,  and  growls  its  hatred.  So  strong  is  its  appetite, 
and  so  dull  its  sense  of  pain,  that  even  with  one  foot 
crushed  in  a  steel  trap,  it  will  accept  food  and  make  a 
hearty  meal,  growling  angrily  all  the  while.  When 
caught  in  a  steel  trap  it  does  not  lie  down  and  give  up, 
but  snarls  and  fights  to  the  end. 

One  Marten  was  seen  on  our  trip,  near  the  spot  where 
the  cycloramic  bear-hunt  occurred.  Mr.  Phillips  saw  it 
start  to  run  along  a  fallen  log,  and  instinctively  took  aim 
at  it,  when  Mack  Norboe  cried  out  in  great  alarm, 

"  Hold  on,  Mr.  Phillips!  Don't  shoot!  Don't  shoot! 
That  pelt  will  be  worth  twenty  dollars  next  month!*' 

That  Marten  went  its  way  unharmed — until  the  trap- 
ping season. 

The  absence  of  wolves  was  very  noticeable.  We  saw 
not  one  Gray  Wolf  {Canis  nubilis),  and  the  only  Coyotes 
{Cants  latrans)  encountered  were  the  two  young  ani- 
mals which  Mr.  Phillips  found  on  the  Sulphur  Spring 
meadow,  one  of  which  he  killed.  But  of  course  wolves 
are  more  in  evidence  later  in  the  year. 

Mr.  Charles  L.  Smith  related  a  very  curious  fact, 
bearing  upon  the  mental  capacity  of  the  Coyote.  He 
said  that  already  the  Coyotes  of  the  Elk  Valley  have  so 
well  learned  the  deadly  character  of  traps  and  poison 
that  now  it  is  almost  impossible  to  kill  a  wolf  with  either. 
So  very  wise  and  suspicious  are  the  Coyotes  now  that  a 
hunter  may  hang  up  a  dressed  carcass  of  a  deer,  and  leave 
it  in  the  woods,  actually  surrounded  by  hungry  wolves, — 


•    -m- 

-■■..-* 

■0 

^^^7 

^ 

1 

^ '"  * 

-^ 

4^ 

THE    SMALL    NEIGHBORS    OF   BIG    GAME     315 

and  they  will  walk  around  it  for  days  without  daring  to 
eat  a  mouthful. 

The  Mule  Deer  is  yet  found  in  southeastern  British 
Columbia,  but  it  is  no  longer  numerous.  Its  delicious 
venison  has  brought  upon  it  the  rifles  of  all  hunters  and 
trappers,  and  we  found  it  quite  as  scarce  as  mountain 
sheep.  I  think  our  party  saw  a  total  of  twelve  head;  but 
we  killed  only  one.  In  October  and  November  the  snows 
drive  the  deer  down  from  the  mountains  into  the  valleys 
of  such  streams  as  the  Elk  River,  where  the  hunters  find 
them  rather  easy  prey. 

We  saw  no  White-Tailed  Deer;  but  there  are  in  that 
corner  of  British  Columbia  a  few  representatives  of  that 
species. 

Farther  west,  in  the  lower  valley  of  the  Eraser  River, 
the  Columbian  Black-Tailed  Deer  *  is  abundant,  but  I 
believe  none  are  found  in  the  Fernie  district. 

In  1901  a  Moose  was  killed  in  the  Elk  Valley,  near 
the  Sulphur  Spring,  by  Mr.  Charles  L.  Smith,  but  since 
that  time  no  other  Moose  have  visited  that  region. 

Of  bird  life  we  saw  much  less  than  I  expected,  for  I 
had  thought  that  the  late-ripening  berries  of  the  sum- 
mits would  attract  and  hold  a  goodly  number  of  the  more 
venturesome  birds.  But  the  berries  had  no  effect  what- 
ever upon  bird  life,  and  throughout  the  entire  trip,  I  did 
not  see  even  one  migratory  bird  which  was  lingering  to 
feed  upon  them.  Even  as  early  as  September  i,  nearly 
all  the  migratory  birds  had  vanished.     My  bird  notes 

*  0-do-coil' e-us  columbianus. 


3i6  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

relate  only  to  certain  birds  which  we  saw,  and  positively 
identified.  We  saw  half  a  dozen  species  which  we  could 
not  identify. 

The  Franklin  Grouse,  or  "  Fool-Hen  "  *  is  the  first 
game  bird  which  greets  the  hunter  as  he  enters  the  moun- 
tains, and  when  he  departs  it  is  the  last  one  to  speed  the 
parting  guest.  As  already  recorded,  we  flushed  about 
twenty  of  these  birds  in  the  heavy  jack  pine  forest  of  Elk 
Valley,  just  below  the  Sulphur  Spring.  Later  on  we 
found  them  elsewhere,  up  to  an  elevation  of  about  5,000 
feet;  but  above  that  we  saw  no  more  of  them.  It  is  a  bird 
of  the  valleys  and  heavy  timber,  rather  than  of  the  moun- 
tain-sides. 

The  Sooty  Grouse,t  Blue  Grouse  or  Pine  Hen  lives 
higher  up,  but  it  is  so  rare  we  met  with  only  two  flocks. 
At  an  elevation  of  about  six  thousand  feet  Charles  L. 
Smith  killed  a  fine  specimen  by  throwing  a  stone  at  it, 
as  it  sat  upon  one  of  the  lower  branches  of  a  tree.  This 
bird  is  a  subspecies  of  the  well-known  Dusky  Grouse  of 
the  southern  two-thirds  of  the  United  States  west  of  the 
great  plains.  In  the  Shoshone  Mountains  I  found  it 
living  close  beside  the  mountain  sheep,  and  almost  fear- 
less in  the  presence  of  man. 

Above  the  timberline,  the  White-Tailed  Ptarmigan  J 
was  delightfully  common.  On  the  evening  of  September 
6,  about  an  hour  after  the  three  goats  ran  past  our  camp- 
fire  on  Goat  Pass,  four  of  these  birds  flew  into  our  camp, 
and  created  another  diversion.  Mr.  Phillips  shot  one  for 
close  examination,  and   as  a  small  contribution  to  the 

*  Ca-nach'i-tes  franklini.  f  Den-drag' a-f  us  ob-scu'rus,    \  La-go' f)us  leu-cu'rus. 


THE    SMALL    NEIGHBORS    OF   BIG    GAME     317 

frying-pan.  Later  on  we  found  two  flocks  on  the  bald, 
rocky  summit  of  Bird  Mountain,  a  most  weird  place  in 
which  to  find  members  of  the  Grouse  Family. 

The  Ptarmigan  is  a  brave  bird,  or  it  would  not  choose 
as  its  home  the  rugged  rocks  and  storm-beaten  slopes 
above  timberline.  Although  its  flesh  is  excellent,  and  on 
the  mountain-tops  a  great  delicacy,  we  were  not  at  all 
keen  in  seeking  it.  We  did  not  need  more  than  a  sample 
of  Ptarmigan,  and  that  was  all  we  took.  They  were  such 
queer  little  creatures,  and  so  companionable  on  the  sum- 
mits, we  had  not  the  heart  to  pursue  them  for  food. 

It  is  natural  for  people  to  be  specially  interested  in 
birds  and  mammals  which  live  under  conditions  fraught 
with  great  danger,  or  with  difficulty  to  the  party  of  the 
first  part.  Take  the  Harlequin  Duck,  for  example, — a 
bird  so  fantastically  painted  by  Nature,  with  white  bars 
and  stripes  and  splashes  on  a  bluish  background,  that  the 
finished  effect  suggests  the  painted  markings  of  a  clown. 

This  bird  loves  rough  water,  and  in  the  Elk  River  and 
its  tributaries  you  will  find  it  from  early  spring  until  the 
end  of  September.  It  breeds  in  that  region.  If  you  see 
it  at  all,  it  will  be  in  the  roughest  water,  perhaps  standing 
upon  a  stone  in  the  centre  of  a  roaring  rapid,  or  bobbing 
like  a  cork  on  the  boiling  flood  at  the  foot  of  some  cascade. 
Standing  on  a  dry  shelf  in  a  museum,  or  lying  as  a  dry 
skin  in  the  black  obscurity  of  a  smelly  drawer,  the  Harle- 
quin Duck  is  not  seen  at  its  best.  But  place  it  in  its  natural 
haunts, — a  roaring  mountain  stream,  in  a  setting  of  rocks, 
enamelled  with  evergreen  timber, — as  shown  in  Mr. 
Phillips's  beautiful  photograph,  and  this  is  a  grand  bird. 


3i8   CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

Even  the  best  diamond  needs  a  proper  setting  in  order 
to  show  ofif  at  its  best. 

The  Water  Ouzel, — in  habits  the  strangest  of  all 
passerine  birds, — is  also  a  bird  of  the  mountain  torrents. 
This  is  the  little  creature  which  looks  like  a  short-tailed 
catbird,  or  a  big  gray  wren,  which  always  nests  beside  a 
foaming  mountain  torrent,  and  occasionally  amuses  itself 
by  diving  into  an  icy  cold  pool,  and  walking  upon  the 
bottom]  I  have  seen  them  fly  off  the  edge  of  a  rush- 
ing stream,  in  November,  and  plunge  into  the  icy  waves, 
for  fun, — just  as  a  feverish  city  sparrow  bathes  in  a  foun- 
tain-basin in  mid-August. 

We  found  a  Water  Ouzel's  nest  on  Avalanche 
Creek.  It  was  a  mile  above  Camp  Necessity,  and  the 
elevation  was  about  6,000  feet.  The  nest  was  situated 
in  a  horizontal  crevice,  a  foot  wide,  at  the  base  of  a 
smooth  wall  of  rock,  and  only  eighteen  inches  above 
the  turbulent  waters  of  the  stream.  To  me  it  seemed 
strange  that  a  summer  freshet  had  not  swept  away  the 
little  home.  Mr.  Phillips  endeavored  to  photograph  the 
nest,  but  the  effort  was  not  successful. 

The  nest  was  of  very  simple  construction.  It  consisted 
merely  of  a  broken  wreath  of  moss,  lying  upon  the  bare 
rock,  and  backed  up  against  the  inner  wall  of  the  crevice. 
With  the  Carnegie  Museum  in  his  mind,  Mr.  Phillips 
removed  it;  and  lo!  there  was  nothing  but  a  meaningless 
handful  of  dried  moss. 

Under  a  log  in  a  snow-slide  I  saw  one  Wren,  which 
I  think  was  a  Western  Winter  Wren.* 

*  An-or-tbu  ra  htemahs  pactficus. 


The    Haunt   of  the    Harlequin    Duck 


The  Water   Ouzel 

The  best  result  of  many  efforts  in   photographing    this  remarkable  bird. 


THE    SMALL    NEIGHBORS    OF   BIG    GAME     319 

A  few  Golden  Eagles  were  seen  on  the  summits,  al- 
ways hunting  around  the  peaks,  or  the  tops  of  the  ridges. 
The  mountain  goat  kids  were  then  too  large  to  be  carried 
off  by  eagles,  and  it  is  probable  that  the  latter  were  seek- 
ing ptarmigan,  pikas,  ground-squirrels  and  hoary  mar- 
mots. But  Eagles  were  by  no  means  numerous,  and  I 
think  that  altogether  we  saw  only  eight  or  ten. 

Hawks  were  more  numerous.  A  brown-gray  species, 
which  I  failed  to  identify,  was  frequently  observed  flying 
low  along  the  mountain-sides,  hunting  with  the  utmost 
diligence  for  the  small  creatures  of  the  slopes.  At  times 
these  birds  flew  slowly  along,  not  more  than  three  feet 
above  the  earth,  their  keen  eyes  searching  sharply  for 
^'  gopher  "  and  chipmunk. 

No  British  Columbia  mountain  is  complete  without 
Clark's  Nutcracker,*  and  the  Canada  Jay;  f  and  a  river 
valley  without  a  Magpie  J  is  desolate.  It  is  disappointing 
to  find  a  hunter's  cabin  with  no  Magpies  about  it,  and  a 
mountain  camp  without  the  Canada  Jay  is  out  of  joint. 
In  their  own  proper  places  we  saw  all  three  of  these  birds. 
First  came  the  Magpie,  the  most  beautiful  and  showy 
of  the  trio,  which  was  plentiful  around  our  camp  at  Sul- 
phur Springs,  and  around  Wild-Cat  Charlie's  cabin.  To 
my  mind,  this  is  the  most  beautiful  and  picturesque  of 
all  the  American  members  of  the  Crow  Family,  and 
throughout  most  portions  of  its  range  it  should  be  perma- 

*  Nu-ci-fra'ga  columhiana;  commonly  called  "Clark's  Crow." 
'\  Per-t-so're-us    canadensis;   also   called   "Whiskey-Jack"   and   "Moose 
Bird." 

\  Pi'ca  pica  hudsonia. 


320  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

nently  protected  by  law.    There  are  times,  however,  when 
this  bird  becomes  a  nuisance  to  domestic  animals. 

In  the  higher  altitudes,  the  Nutcracker  and  Canada 
Jay  are  the  big-game  hunter's  most  intimate  feathered 
friends.  In  the  wildest  basins  and  on  the  steepest  moun- 
tain-sides, you  will  see  them  hang  upon  the  heaven-point- 
ing tips  of  the  last  dead  pines  and  spruces,  and  hear  their 
weird,  squawking  cries.  It  is  fitting  that  the  birds  of  the 
summits  should  be  widely  different  from  those  of  the 
plains,  and  that  the  sound  of  falling  slide-rock,  and  the 
whistle  of  the  wind  through  the  pine-tops  should  forever 
be  associated  in  the  hunter's  mind  with  the  queer  "  Kee- 
wock  "  of  Clark's  Nutcracker. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

DOWN  AVALANCHE  CREEK,  AND  OUT 

Cutting  our  Way  Out — A  Side  Trip  to  High  Summits — Discovery  of 
Lake  Josephine — A  Camp  for  Three — A  Lofty  Hunting  Ground — 
My  Luck  Against  the  Storm-Clouds — A  Body-Racking  Descent — 
The  Struggle  for  a  Trail  Out — Mr.  Phillips  and  I  Go  Out  on 
Foot — The  Jack  Pine,  Down  and  Up — Running  Logs  Over  Down 
Timber — Out  at  Last. 

Below  Camp  Necessity,  the  vaHey  of  Avalanche 
Creek  was  in  a  frightful  state.  It  was  full  of  "  down 
timber,"  through  which  no  trail  ever  had  been  cut.  Our 
guides  knew  that  to  cut  our  way  out  to  Elk  River  Valley 
would  be  a  serious  undertaking,  but  it  was  voted  less 
laborious  and  more  expeditious  than  to  retrace  our  route, 
and  swing  back  twenty-five  miles  northward.  To  retrace 
our  steps  would  mean  a  total  loss  in  distance  of  at  least 
fifty  miles,  half  of  it  over  very  bad  trails,  with  much 
climbing;  so  the  guides  and  the  cook  voted  to  chop  out 
a  trail  down  stream  in  order  to  save  the  horses. 

At  the  beginning  it  seemed  like  a  three  days'  task,  and 
it  afforded  an  interval  that  Charlie  Smith  and  I  made 
haste  to  spend  in  a  hunt  up  to  the  summits  south  of  our 
camp.    He  said, 

"  There  is  some  mighty  fine  country  up  there.  I  have 
seen  it  from  the  south,  but  I  don't  believe  any  white 

man  ever  has  been  in  it, — at  least  not  in  my  time.    There 

321 


322  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN   ROCKIES 

ought  to  be  grizzly  bear  and  sheep  up  there,  and  mule 
deer,  tool  " 

We  took  the  4x7  silk  tent,  an  axe,  a  small  tin  pail,  a 
small  piece  of  bacon,  a  little  chocolate,  sugar,  bread  and 
a  can  of  tongue;  our  rifles,  a  small  camera,  one  blanket, 
and  that  was  all.  Knowing  that  it  would  be  a  hard  climb 
up,  and  one  equally  difficult  coming  down,  we  left  behind 
every  ounce  that  could  be  spared.  Charlie  even  declined 
to  take  a  blanket,  but  with  needle  and  thread  I  quickly 
converted  my  best  blanket  into  a  first-rate  sleeping-bag, 
and  took  it  on  my  back. 

We  went  up  the  bed  of  a  creek  that  came  plunging 
down  into  Avalanche  Valley,  just  below  our  camp;  and 
of  all  the  down  timber — !  The  narrow  valley  was  filled 
with  it;  and  being  unable  to  go  under  it,  or  through  it,  we 
had  to  go  over  it,  by  walking  the  logs  as  they  lay.  It 
was  both  difficult  and  dangerous.  I  had  one  hand  free, 
but  how  Charlie  could  risk  it  with  a  heavy  pack  on  his 
back,  a  sharp  axe  in  one  hand,  and  a  rifle  in  the  other, 
was  a  mystery.  We  not  only  had  to  run  the  logs,  but  it 
was  necessary  to  climb  at  the  same  time;  and  the  combina- 
tion was  far  from  easy. 

At  last  we  climbed  above  the  down  timber,  and  en- 
tered upon  slide-rock;  and  over  that  we  climbed  on  up 
through  a  gloomy  notch  in  the  rocks.  Beyond  that  lay  a 
basin  filled  with  green  timber,  which  Charlie  scrutinized. 

*'  By  the  amount  of  water  coming  out  of  that  basin," 
said  he,  "  I  think  there  must  be  a  lake  in  there,  some- 
where." 

In  the  Adirondacks,  and  other  places  wherein  water 


DOWN    AVALANCHE    CREEK,    AND    OUT  323 

is  plentiful  and  cheap,  we  speak  of  any  small  body  of  it 
as  a  "pond";  but  in  deserts  and  on  mountain  summits, 
where  a  body  of  water  of  any  size  is  something  to  be 
petted  and  made  much  of,  people  call  it  a  "  lake."  And 
very  properly,  too;  for  no  meek  and  lowly  "  pond  "  is  a 
proper  associate  for  Nature's  grandest  works.  One  of 
the  most  beautiful  lakes  in  the  Elk  River  country  is  Lake 
Monro,  a  few  miles  north  of  Goat  Pass — named  in  honor 
of  Mr.  G.  N.  Monro,  of  Pittsburg,  who  has  hunted  big 
game  in  this  region. 

Charlie  was  right.  We  found  a  lovely  sheet  of  water, 
walled  in  by  a  dense  green  stockade  of  spruces  and  bal- 
sams. Toward  the  south  and  west,  a  high  cliff  of  rock 
loomed  up,  and  southeastward  were  several  immense 
ridges  with  broadly-rounded  tops. 

The  lake  is  a  gem  of  green  and  blue,  lying  in  the  lap 
of  Nature.  For  a  few  yards  outward  from  the  shore 
the  shallow  water  showed  the  clear  green  of  an  emerald, 
but  suddenly  it  plunged  into  unknown  depths  and  be- 
came "  deeply,  darkly,  beautifully  blue." 

Near  the  outlet  of  the     ^^^_  .    _  ,  .  .  .._.,. 
lake,  we  found  big  tracks     ^^^  .  -    ~\~---^^^^^ 
coming  up  from  the  blue    ,^8^-^5=£^~-I^rlE>i"r%- 


water,  and  at  the  head  of  it    ^fc:rrM^,o.nM4H 

we  found  where  the  maker     ^fe^^~-;^i«^v'^:^I:^-^^L 

of  those  tracks  had  gone  in.     ^^to^^t'%T|K^^5^ 

About  two  weeks  previous 

to  our  visit  a  large  bull  elk 

had  entered  the  southern  end  of  the  lake,  and  swam  the 

entire  length  of  it.     Having  read  this  bit  of  history,  I 


324  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

formally  christened  that  body  of  water,  in  honor  of  my 
wife,  and  filed  her  claim  on  the  side  of  a  fine  young 
balsam  that  stood  on  the  southern  shore. 

Then  it  began  to  rain,  and  we  made  haste  to  pitch 
our  tent,  cut  spruce  boughs  for  our  bed,  and  collect  a 
huge  pile  of  wood  for  the  camp-fire;  for  it  was  nearly 
night. 

People  may  paint  and  photograph  camps  and  camp- 
fires,  until  doomsday;  but  after  all  they  are  mostly  tame 
and  spiritless.  One  might  as  well  try  to  paint  the 
perfume  of  orange  blossoms,  or  the  charm  of  a  lovely 
woman's  manner,  for  all  are  equally  futile.  But  those 
who  have  camped  in  the  lap  of  Nature,  far  from  the 
haunts  of  man,  far  beyond  the  last  trail  and  the  ultimate 
tin  can,  can  realize  without  any  pictures  the  composite 
sensations  of  awe,  of  triumph,  and  of  rare  satisfaction 
which  filled  our  souls  as  we  lit  our  camp-fire,  and 
settled  down  for  the  night. 

Our  tent  was  small,  even  for  two  men;  but  in  view 
of  the  rain  that  steadily  pattered  down,  and  dog  Kaiser 
shivering  as  he  lay  tightly  coiled  on  the  dry  needles  at 
the  foot  of  our  sheltering  spruce,  we  cordially  invited 
him  to  come  into  the  tent,  for  the  night.  Kaiser  always 
was  persona  grata,  and  it  was  no  hardship  to  share  with 
him  our  bed,  as  well  as  our  board. 

When  not  exercising,  it  was  stinging  cold;  and  Char- 
lie was  blanketless.  To  remedy  that,  he  left  the  front 
end  of  the  tent  wide  open,  and  built  across  it  bows,  and 
only  six  feet  away,  a  perfectly  gorgeous  camp-fire  six 
feet  long  by  three  feet  high.    The  heat  of  this  radiated 


O      r^ 
2       = 


DOWN    AVALANCHE    CREEK,    AND    OUT  325 

into  the  tent,  and  warmed  it  very  well,  save  to  a  man 
lying  down ;  who  naturally  lay  under  the  warm  air,  rather 
than  within  it. 

Charlie's  rest  was  continually  broken  by  the  necessity 
of  replenishing  the  fire;  and  when  lying  down,  he  should 
have  had  a  good  blanket.  The  first  night,  I  was  new  to 
the  situation,  and  watched  to  see  how  my  comrade  would 
get  on  with  no  blanket.  The  second  night,  I  knew  all 
about  it;  and  after  a  watch  below  I  made  Charlie  get 
into  my  one-blanket  sleeping-bag,  get  warm  and  go  to 
sleep,  while  I  took  the  watch  on  deck.  Every  half  hour 
I  had  to  get  out  and  mend  the  fire;  and  then  Kaiser 
would  quickly  jump  my  claim,  and  settle  down  in  the 
warmest  spot  of  my  bed.  When  I  dislodged  him,  and 
settled  down  for  another  shivery  half-hour,  he  would 
insinuate  himself  into  my  arms,  and  I  found  the  warmth 
of  his  body  grateful  and  comforting. 

True  to  the  general  keynote,  we  found  those  moun- 
tains quite  different  from  every  other  spot  we  had  visited. 
The  big,  rocky  peak  that  formed  a  quarter-circle  around 
the  western  side  of  the  basin  of  Lake  Josephine  seemed 
to  be  a  sort  of  culminating  point.  From  it  and  its  spur- 
like ridges,  great  basins  were  scooped  out  in  every  direc- 
tion, and  creeks  innumerable  headed  and  ran  down  north, 
east  and  south.  From  the  bald  top  of  a  vast  ridge  south- 
east of  the  lake,  we  seemed  to  overlook  the  world. 

The  crest  of  Cyclorama  Ridge,  on  which  Mr.  Phil- 
lips killed  his  three  rams,  was  so  much  below  us  that 
we  looked  down  upon  it,  and  saw  it  clean  and  bare,  while 
we  were  in  snow.    Southward,  fully  a  thousand  feet  be- 


2i6  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

low  us,  a  big  valley  of  many  slides  and  much  green  tim- 
ber ran  down,  due  south.  Charlie  said  it  was  Wilson's 
Creek,  whereon  Mr.  Phillips  had  killed  several  grizzly 
bears. 

It  was  a  glorious  country  for  big  game;  but  just  at 
that  moment,  the  sheep  and  deer  and  grizzlies  happened 
to  be  elsewhere.  We  found  goats  on  the  cliffs,  and,  as 
described  fully  elsewhere,  saw  a  big  billy  promenade 
across  the  face  of  that  awful  precipice  as  coolly  as  if  he 
were  cropping  Pulsatilla  on  a  sky  pasture.  On  the  sum- 
mit of  the  highest  point  trodden  by  us,  we  met  an  ashy- 
mantled  ground-squirrel.  East  of  our  camp,  a  whole 
mountain-side  was  covered  with  huckleberry  bushes 
hanging  full  of  ripe  berries,  on  which  we  fed  sumptu- 
ously more  than  once. 

The  night  before  we  were  to  return  to  Camp  Neces- 
sity, it  began  to  rain  and  snow,  and  after  studying  the 
weather  Charlie  said,  very  seriously, 

"  We'll  find  ourselves  in  a  foot  of  snow  at  daylight 
to-morrow  1 " 

"  Charlie,"  I  said,  "  my  luck  won't  have  it  that  wayl 
When  I  go  hunting,  bad  weather  doesn't  strike  until  after 
I  get  in." 

"  Well,  this  time  I'll  back  the  clouds  against  yer 
luck,"  said  Charlie. 

We  spent  a  very  anxious  night,  but  at  daylight  we  had 
only  the  same  two  inches  of  snow  that  we  had  at  sunset. 
We  ate  our  last  mouthfuls  of  grub,  spent  our  last  films 
in  trying  to  photograph  Lake  Josephine,  and  then  set 
out — or   I   should  say  set  down — for  Camp   Necessity. 


DOWN    AVALANCHE    CREEK,    AND    OUT  327 

The  valley  route  was  impossible,  because  of  the  wet  snow 
on  the  logs,  so  we  went  down  the  crest  of  the  ridge  west 
of  our  little  creek. 

It  is  easy  to  over-estimate  the  height  that  one  climbs, 
and  magnify  the  difficulties  of  an  ascent;  but,  as  truly  as 
I  live,  that  descent  seems  like  one  of  the  most  trying 
experiences  that  I  ever  went  through  in  hunting.  We 
went  down  at  a  frightfully  steep  pitch,  through  green 
timber  and  dead  timber,  clinging  like  frightened 
monkeys  to  every  branch,  and  bush,  and  twig  that  we 
could  grasp,  to  keep  from  pitching  headlong.  There 
were  ten  thousand  fallen  trees  to  climb  over, — but  we 
didn't  climb  over  quite  all  of  them.  Every  fallen  tree 
was  wet,  every  root  and  stone  was  slippery.  I  got  three 
hard  falls  on  soft  earth,  and  each  time  thankfully  went 
forward  to  the  next.  It  seemed  to  me  that  we  went  down 
about  five  thousand  feet, — at  least  twice  as  much  as  we 
climbed  up  in  going  to  Lake  Josephine, — but  I  know  that 
the  distance  was  nothing  like  that.  To  my  last  day,  it 
will  be  to  me  a  profound  mystery  how  we  climbed  up  so 
easily,  and  scrambled  down  so  far,  and  so  hard.  During 
the  lower  third  of  the  descent,  the  tangle  of  down  timber 
on  that  awfully  steep  mountain-side  was  most  trying. 
It  made  one  think  of  tangled  hair. 

Soaking  wet,  we  reached  Camp  Necessity  about  noon, 
and  were  glad  to  get  into  dry  clothing.  The  cutting 
of  the  trail  had  been  steadily  going  forward,  but  instead 
of  being  nearly  at  an  end,  three  miles  were  yet  unopened, 
and  the  work  was  slow  and  toilsome.  To  save  Charlie 
Smith  from  heavy  axe-work,  which  he  was  then  in  no 


328  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

physical  condition  to  perform,  Huddleston,  our  cook, 
pluckily  volunteered  to  change  work  with  Smith;  and 
he  flew  at  the  chopping  of  tough  jack  pines  as  if  he 
liked  it. 

On  the  following  day,  Mr.  Phillips  and  I  packed 
up  all  our  skins  and  heads,  and  made  them  ready  for  the 
trail.  The  last  photographs  of  the  camp  were  taken. 
When  the  Norboes  and  Huddleston  dragged  wearily  into 
camp,  at  night,  they  sadly  confessed  that  the  trail-cutting 
was  far  from  being  finished.  At  least  two  days'  work 
remained,  possibly  three.  Being  already  behind  my 
schedule  time,  and  urgently  anxious  to  get  in  touch  with 
a  telegraph  wire,  I  proposed  to  Mr.  Phillips  that  we 
break  through  on  foot,  and  walk  to  Michel  by  the  end 
of  the  following  day.  It  was  only  twenty-five  miles,  or 
thereabouts,  but  getting  down  and  out  of  Avalanche 
Valley  made  it  equal  to  forty  on  a  fair  trail. 

At  daylight  on  the  morning  of  September  29,  John 
and  I  took  our  rifles  and  one  camera,  and  set  out.  The 
only  incident  of  the  promenade  worth  mentioning  is  the 
down-timber  feature. 

Thus  far  I  have  said  little  about  "log-running"  in 
getting  over  bad  down  timber.  What  we  did  pre- 
viously in  that  line  was  like  child's  play  in  comparison 
with  that  forenoon's  record.  To  be  appreciated,  down 
timber  must  be  experienced;  for  seeing  is  not  all  of 
believing. 

Fallen  jack  pines  are  the  curse  of  British  Columbia. 
They  hinder  all  enterprises,  and  help  none.  They  never 
decay,   and   the   longer  they  lie   the   tougher  they  are. 


H 


a. 


DOWN    AVALANCHE    CREEK,    AND    OUT  329 

They  are  too  small  to  convert  into  lumber,  and  too  hard 
to  chop  into  cordwood.  They  are  too  big  for  fishing 
rods,  and  too  small  for  masts.  After  a  time,  a  jack  pine 
stem  becomes  practically  indestructible.  To  burn  one 
ofif  the  face  of  Nature  requires  more  good  kindling  than 
the  burnee  would  make,  if  sawn  and  split.  A  jack  pine 
stem  is  so  tough  that  you  cannot  break  a  section  of  the 
tip  as  large  as  a  walking  stick. 

If  you  try  to  break  off  a  tip,  to  use  for  some  good 
and  lawful  purpose,  it  will  lure  you  on  to  strive  until 
you  are  exhausted,  and  then  when  you  say  something 
bad  and  let  it  go,  it  will  fly  back  and  hit  you  in  the  eye. 

When  the  wind  begins  to  blow  hard,  dead  jack  pines 
that  are  standing  are  more  dangerous  than  grizzly  bears. 
Then  the  boldest  hunter  will  quit  the  trail,  and  break 
for  open  ground.  Even  when  the  wind  is  not  blowing, 
it  is  dangerous  to  walk  through  jack  pines  that  are  dead 
standing,  for  they  have  a  sneaking  way  of  silently  letting 
go  at  the  roots,  and  falling  across  anything  or  anybody 
that  can  be  hurt.  A  dead  jack  pine  is  a  woody  degen- 
erate, neither  beautiful  nor  useful,  and  forever  menacing 
the  peace  of  the  world  until  some  well-directed  fire  re- 
duces it  to  its  lowest  terms. 

The  lower  reaches  of  Avalanche  Valley  are  to-day 
suffering  from  a  fearful  attack  of  jack  pines.  Once  the 
mountains  on  both  slopes  were  covered  with  that  mis- 
begotten tree;  but  about  ten  years  ago  they  were  swept 
by  fire.  The  trees  were  killed,  but  not  burned.  They 
fell  down-hill,  so  that  travel  on  the  mountain-side  is 
everywhere  a  practical  impossibility.     In  the  bottom  of 


330  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

the  valley  they  fell  across  each  other  in  every  direction, 
and  piled  up  higher  and  higher,  until  the  uncut  resid- 
uum is  absolutely  impassable  for  horse,  deer,  or  any 
large  hoofed  animal  except  man.  There  are  places 
where  the  criss-crossed  logs  are  only  four  feet  high,  but 
there  are  others  w^here  they  are  ten,  fifteen,  or  twenty. 

To  get  a  horse  through,  a  course  must  be  so  cut  out 
that  the  highest  uncut  log  is  low  enough  that  a  horse  can 
step  over  it;  and  such  a  trail  winds  in  the  wildest  and 
dizziest  zig-zags  ever  laid  out  by  man.  A  worm  fence, 
or  a  streak  of  chain  lightning,  is  an  air-line  in  compar- 
ison with  it.  In  advancing  one  mile  you  travel  three 
or  four. 

The  foot-slogger  who  is  unhampered  by  a  pack-train 
can  get  over  the  infernal  tangle  by  walking  on  the  top- 
most logs.  He  goes  first  in  one  direction  and  then  in 
another,  as  the  good  ones, — no,  I  mean  the  least  bad 
ones, — happen  to  lie.  The  stems  are  bare  of  bark,  and 
smooth  as  a  floor,  but  plentifully  provided  with  tough, 
mean  limbs  to  catch  in  your  clothes  and  otherwise  throw 
you  down.  There  is  hardly  a  square  yard  below  that  is 
not  criss-crossed  by  logs,  and  if  you  lose  your  balance 
and  fall,  you  plunge  down  upon  an  assortment  of  tree 
trunks  and  limbs  as  hard  as  iron,  and  lying  all  sorts  of 
ways  about. 

When  your  foot-log  is  near  the  ground,  you  jog  along 
quite  joyously,  but  at  six  feet  or  more  above  mother 
earth,  a  fall  means  broken  bones.  Broken  bones  in  the 
mountains  spell  calamity,  to  yourself  and  to  your  whole 
party.     Doctors  are  impossible,  and  to  carry  a  man  out 


The  Tangle  of  "Dead"    and    "Down"    Timber,    Avalanche   Creek 


Log-Running   over    "Down"    Timber 

A  Jiani   fall  means  broken   bones. 


DOWN    AVALANCHE    CREEK,    AND    OUT  331 

over  those  mountain  trails  is  a  task  that  the  strongest 
party  manager  may  well  shrink  from. 

In  getting  out  of  Avalanche  Valley,  we  had  no  choice 
but  to  walk  logs  for  several  hours  and  several  miles. 
Without  the  hob  nails  in  our  shoes,  it  would  have  been 
quite  impossible.  It  would  have  been  much  easier  and 
safer  without  our  rifles,  but  for  a  hunter  to  abandon  his 
rifle  means  the  last  extremity.  While  the  dew  was  on 
the  logs,  we  gave  our  undivided  attention  to  the  struggle 
to  get  on  and  yet  keep  from  falling.  As  the  morning 
drew  on,  and  the  dew  dried  up,  we  became  more  confi- 
dent, and  went  faster.  It  was  very  funny,  but  we  planted 
our  feet-  just  as  a  mountain  goat  does  when  walking  a 
ledge, — very  firmly  and  stiffly  at  each  step,  to  get  a  sure 
foothold  on  the  smooth  wood. 

Although  I  had  lost  eleven  pounds  since  entering 
the  mountains,  my  weight  was  still  one  hundred  and 
seventy-four,  and  I  dreaded  the  disgrace  of  broken  bones 
on  the  last  day.  Many  a  time  as  we  crossed  logs  that  were 
fully  ten  feet  from  the  ground,  it  seemed  impossible  that 
we  should  be  permitted  to  get  out  without  a  break.  But 
we  did.  We  got  so  much  in  practice  that  we  pegged 
along  not  only  rapidly  but  recklessly,  and  took  chances 
that  were  better  not  taken  twice.  Toward  the  end  of  the 
log-running,  Mr.  Phillips  had  a  bad  fall,  and  came  very 
near  Calamity.  He  did  not  fall  far,  but  his  foot  was 
caught  and  held  so  firmly  that  he  was  glad  to  hang  on  and 
without  moving  wait  for  me  to  come  up  and  help  him  to 
release  his  foot  and  rise.  At  first  we  both  thought  that 
his  ankle  was  "  gone." 


231  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

A  little  later  I  grew  careless,  and  fell  a  short  fall 
with  great  violence,  but  fortunately  landed  full  length 
upon  some  small  stems.  I  thought  my  rifle  stock  was 
smashed  to  bits,  but  it  came  up  unbroken. 

At  last,  however,  we  got  out  of  the  down  timber,  out 
of  the  five-mile  forest  of  young  jack  pines  that  lies  below 
it,  and  down  into  the  valley  of  Elk  River. 

All's  well  that  ends  well. 


CHAPTER    XXIV, 

CAPTIVE  MOUNTAIN   GOATS 

Record  of  Captive  Goats  Exhibited — Perilous  Capture  by  Smith  and 
Norboe — An  Easy  Capture — A  Game  Warden  in  Trouble — First 
Specimens  for  New  York — Others  from  Fort  Steele — Shipping 
Animals  by  Express — The  Author  Becomes  Travelling  Companion 
for  Five  Goat  Kids — Traits  in  Captivity — A  Glance  Backward. 

Up  to  this  date,  the  entire  history  of  the  mountaia 
goat  in  captivity  is  very  brief.  Although  quite  a  num- 
ber have  been  caught  in  various  places,  only  a  very 
few  have  lived  long  enough  to  change  hands  and  be 
seen  of  men. 

The  first  living  mountain  goat  ever  captured  or  pho- 
tographed (s.f.a.k.)  was  a  big  male  captured  near  Deer 
Lodge,  Montana,  about  1880,  and  taken  alive  to  that 
town.  For  sixteen  years  I  have  been  in  possession  of  a 
dim  photograph  of  that  animal,  taken  as  he  stood  with 
two  ropes  around  his  neck.  *'  Deer  Lodge  Billy  "  lived 
only  a  short  time.  His  alleged  weight  of  480  pounds  is 
quite  beyond  belief. 

In  1899  two  goats  were  purchased  of  Dick  Rock  by 
Charles  W.  Dimick,  and  exhibited  at  the  Sportsmen's 
Show,  in  Boston.  They  lived  on  a  farm  in  New  England 
for  about  one  year  longer,  then  died  of  lung  troubles.    . 

In  1902  the  Philadelphia  Zoological   Society  came 

333 


334  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

into  possession  of  two  fine  young  goats,  which  lived  in 
the  Gardens  of  that  Society  for  two  years,  and  then  sud- 
denly passed  away. 

In  1901,  the  Zoological  Society  of  London  purchased 
a  typical  full-grown  male  goat  which  had  been  captured 
in  1898  in  the  Fort  Steele  District  of  southeastern 
British  Columbia,  and  reared  to  maturity  in  its  home 
country.  By  its  owner  it  was  personally  conducted  to 
London,  and  on  ariving  there  it  elected  to  live.  At  this 
date  (1906)  it  is  believed  to  be  yet  alive;  and  I  may  add 
that  it  is  living  proof  in  support  of  the  author's  theory 
that  the  only  perfect  way  to  secure  American  mountain 
sheep  and  goats  that  can  survive  on  the  Atlantic  coast 
is  by  having  young  animals  reared  to  maturity  in  their 
home  country. 

In  the  spring  of  1904,  seven  goat  kids  were  captured 
near  Banff  for  the  New  York  Zoological  Society,  and 
most  carefully  cared  for,  but  all  died  shortly  after  they 
reached  Banff.  During  that  same  season,  however,  four 
other  goats  were  caught  for  us,  and  also  a  mountain 
sheep  lamb,  all  of  which  survived.  The  mountain  sheep 
lamb,  and  two  of  the  goat  kids,  were  caught  by  Charles 
L.  Smith  and  R.  M.  Norboe.  As  we  climbed  up  Goat 
Creek  into  the  mountains,  we  passed  the  very  spot  where 
one  of  the  kids  was  taken,  and  Mr.  Smith  described  to 
me  the  manner  of  it.  It  was,  I  think,  the  most  hazardous 
and  recklessly  daring  feat  in  mountaineering  ever  per- 
formed by  any  one  known  to  me,  and  I  shudder  every 
time  I  think  of  it. 

On  that  particular  occasion,  R.  M.  Norboe  accom- 


Drawn  by  Charles  B.  Hudson. 


Risking   his   I,ife   for   a   Kid 


CAPTIVE    MOUNTAIN    GOATS  335 

panied  Smith  into  the  mountains,  for  the  purpose  of  cap- 
turing kids.  They  found  a  female  goat,  with  a  kid  only 
a  few  days  old,  near  the  top  of  a  lofty  and  very  precip- 
itous peak  on  the  north  side  of  Goat  Creek.  They 
climbed  the  mountain,  scaled  the  peak  to  its  summit, 
and  finally  succeeded  in  driving  the  mother  goat  and 
her  kid  upon  a  narrow  ledge  which  terminated  against 
an  unscalable  wall. 

Rope  in  hand,  Charlie  Smith  followed  the  mother 
goat  and  her  young  along  their  narrow  shelf  of  rock  al- 
most to  the  end  of  the  cul-de-sac.  But  there  the  pursuit 
ended.  From  that  point  onward  the  rock  wall  overhung 
so  much  that  ten  feet  away  from  the  goats  a  human  being 
could  go  no  farther.  Below  was  a  perpendicular  drop 
of  hundreds  of  feet,  but  the  rocks  above  sloped  suffi- 
ciently that  Norboe  was  able  to  come  within  about  ten 
feet  of  his  partner. 

*'  Mack,"  said  Smith,  "  go  and  cut  a  pole  about  ten 
feet  long,  strong  enough  to  swing  this  kid,  give  it  to  me, 
and  I'll  soon  have  him." 

While  his  partner  went  to  cut  the  pole.  Smith  sat 
down  on  the  ledge,  with  his  feet  hanging  over  eternity, 
and  waited.  When  the  pole  arrived,  and  had  been 
passed  down  to  him,  he  bent  his  lariat  upon  the  end,  and 
left  a  suitable  noose  hanging  free.  When  all  was  ready, 
he  bade  Norboe  climb  down  as  near  to  him  as  possible, 
and  when  the  word  was  given  he  reached  forward, 
noosed  the  kid  around  its  neck,  swung  it  out  over  the 
abyss  and  up  to  Norboe,  who  took  it,  and  carried  it  to 
a  place  of  safety.     Then  Smith  gingerly  arose,  edged 


226  CAMP-FIRES  IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

his  way  back  along  the  eighteen-inch  shelf,  and  in  safety 
reached  the  rocks  above. 

As  we  looked  up  at  the  frightfully  dangerous  spot 
whereon  Smith  risked  his  life  for  a  mountain  goat  kid 
three  days  old,  the  thought  came  back  to  me,  for  about 
the  one-hundredth  time,  "  What  a  pity  that  visitors  to 
zoological  parks  and  gardens  cannot  know  all  the  life 
stories  of  the  animals!  " 

The  second  goat  kid  captured  for  us  by  Mr.  Smith 
was  obtained  more  easily.  While  hunting  bear  in  May, 
1904,  near  the  head  of  Goat  Creek,  Mr.  Phillips  and 
Guide  Smith  saw  a  mother  goat  and  a  very  young  kid. 
They  were  lingering  near  the  mouth  of  a  cave,  high  up 
in  the  rocks,  quite  as  if  the  cave  had  been  the  birthplace 
of  the  kid.  On  the  following  morning,  Mr.  Phillips 
encouraged  Smith  to  make  a  trip  to  the  cave,  and  if  pos- 
sible capture  the  kid.  Mr.  Smith  eagerly  accepted  the 
opportunity,  hastened  to  the  spot,  and  found  both  the 
mother  goat  and  her  young  very  near  the  ledge  they  had 
occupied  on  the  previous  day.  As  the  hunter  ap- 
proached, the  mother  goat  retreated  with  her  kid  into 
the  cave.  Smith  followed,  easily  drove  out  the  nanny 
and  captured  the  kid. 

Carrying  the  little  creature  tenderly  in  his  arms, 
Charlie  finally  sat  down  to  rest  in  the  heavy  green  tim- 
ber a  mile  above  camp,  and  there  Mr.  Phillips  found  him 
and  took  his  picture,  as  shown  herewith. 

A  little  later,  a  mountain  sheep  lamb  was  captured, 
and  it  and  the  two  goat  kids  were  safely  settled  for  a 
period  of  several  months  at  Mr.   Smith's  comfortable 


CAPTIVE    MOUNTAIN    GOATS  337 

ranch  on  the  bank  of  Elk  River.  The  three  animals 
were  kept  in  a  small  yard  made  of  poultry  netting,  and 
watched  and  tended  by  Mr.  Smith's  father.  During  the 
entire  summer,  those  animals  were  not  out  of  the  father's 
sight  in  daylight  for  more  than  an  hour  at  a  time,  and 
as  a  result,  they  lived  and  throve. 

At  first  their  food  consisted  of  condensed  cream, 
properly  diluted  with  water;  and  after  that  they  were 
fed  on  cow's  milk,  given  in  small  quantities,  but  fre- 
quently. Very  soon  they  began  to  eat  grass,  cabbage 
and  dry  bread,  and  after  that,  crushed  oats.  As  they 
grew  older,  hay  became  acceptable  to  them,  and  soon 
formed,  with  cabbage,  their  principal  diet. 

During  the  summer  Mr.  Smith  had  various  advent- 
ures with  his  strange  little  beasts,  and  one  incident 
which  he  described  in  a  letter  to  his  friend  Mr.  J.  E. 
Roth,  of  Pittsburg,  presently  found  its  way  into  print. 
It  appeared  in  Shields'  Magazine  under  the  caption 

A  GAME  WARDEN  IN  TROUBLE 

"  I  had  some  excitement  lately  in  the  exercise  of  my  duties  as  game 
warden.  Mother  started  in  to  violate  our  good  game  laws.  Father 
had  turned  the  pet  sheep  and  goats  out  for  exercise,  and,  as  the  day  was 
fine,  Mother  stepped  out  and  left  the  hall  door  open.  The  sheep,  being 
near  at  hand,  thought  it  a  good  time  to  explore  new  territory,  so  went  in 
at  the  door  and  up  the  stairs  on  the  run.  Mother  heard  the  racket,  and, 
arming  herself  with  a  broom,  did  wilfully,  and,  disregarding  the  game 
laws,  pursue  the  said  sheep. 

"After  an  elaborate  stalk,  she  found  it  in  my  room,  standing  in  the 
middle  of  my  bed,  and  she  made  a  charge.  The  sheep  dashed  around 
the  room,  over  books  and  flowerpots,  and  down  the  stairs,  four  steps 
at  a  time.     The  dining-room  door  was  open,  and  the  table  was  set  for 


338  CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

dinner.  As  it  was  the  highest  bit  of  scenery  in  sight  the  sheep  took 
refuge  in  the  middle  of  it,  and  cleared  a  space  on  which  to  make  a  final 
stand.  Mother,  being  the  wife  and  mother  of  a  hunter,  and  being 
descended  from  a  long  line  of  that  ilk,  did,  regardless  of  the  law,  still 
pursue;  but,  before  she  could  make  her  way  down  stairs,  the  doughty 
big-horn  had  cleared  the  table  of  every  dish,  with  contents,  and  they  lay 
scattered  around  as  if  the  place  had  been  struck  by  a  Kansas  cyclone. 

"The  mater  made  a  charge  on  Ovis  canadensis,  but  failed  to  bring 
him  down.  She  then  called  in  the  pater,  and,  after  some  persuasion, 
the  irate  big-horn  was  taken  away. 

"About  that  time  I  arrived  on  the  scene,  and  with  dignity  proceeded 
to  read  Mother  the  clause  in  the  game  laws  which  says:  'You  shall  not 
pursue,  or  cause  to  be  pursued,  etc.,  etc.,'  upon  which  she  informed 
me  that  I  was  the  one  who  had  caused  the  sheep  to  be  pursued  by  allow- 
ing it  to  come  near  the  house,  and  that  she  would  fine  me  the  price  of 
a  new  set  of  dishes,  and  sentence  me  to  go  without  my  dinner.  As  she 
had  the  law  in  her  own  hands,  I  had  to  submit. 

"This  is  the  second  time  I  have  been  turned  down  as  game  warden, 
and  I  think  I  shall  resign." 

It  is  quite  useless  to  transplant  from  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains to  the  Atlantic  coast  either  mountain  sheep  lambs 
or  goat  kids  only  two  or  three  months  old,  and  expect 
them  to  survive.  To  such  delicate  animals,  the  shock  of 
such  a  change  is  too  great.  They  are  easily  upset.  The 
longer  they  can  remain  in  their  home  country,  the  bet- 
ter; and  it  is  very  unwise  to  move  them  before  they  are 
six  or  seven  months  old.  Even  then  it  cannot  be  man- 
aged successfully  save  by  an  attendant  to  travel  with  the 
animals,  and  care  for  them  on  the  way. 

In  October,  1904,  Mr.  B.  T.  Van  Nostrand,  a  Brook- 
lyn sportsman  on  a  hunting  tour  to  the  Columbian 
Rockies,  personally  conducted  two  mountain  goat  kids 
for  us  from  Fort  Steele  to  New  York,  and  the  animals 


CAPTIVE    MOUNTAIN    GOATS  339 

arrived  in  perfect  condition.  A  month  later,  Charlie 
Smith  brought  to  us  from  his  Elk  River  ranch  the  two 
goats  and  the  sheep,  mentioned  above.  They,,  also,  ar- 
rived in  good  health,  and  the  five  novelties  from  the 
Rockies  were  duly  placed  on  exhibition  in  the  New  York 
Zoological  Park. 

All  went  well  until  in  August,  1905,  when  the  goats 
began  to  have  trouble  with  their  digestive  organs.  One 
by  one  they  were  attacked  by  gastro-enteritis,  the  incur- 
able curse  of  all  North  American  hoofed  animals  on  the 
Atlantic  coast  near  tidewater,  and  in  September,  1905, 
all  four  of  the  goats  went  the  way  of  all  flesh. 

But  we  were  not  wholly  bereft.  Before  I  started  for 
British  Columbia  the  Zoological  Society  learned  that  its 
standing  order  for  more  goats  was  ready  to  be  filled  at 
Fort  Steele,  with  five  animals.  Accordingly  I  arranged 
that  they  should  be  delivered  to  me  at  that  point,  and  by 
me  be  personally  conducted  to  New  York. 

On  October  i,  our  three  guides  and  cook,  after  sev- 
eral days  of  awful  trail-cutting  through  down  timber, 
finally  succeeded  in  getting  our  pack  train  out  of  the 
mountains  and  into  Michel.  We  worked  until  midnight, 
packing  up  and  shipping  eastward  our  boxes  of  museum 
specimens  and  trophies.  On  October  2,  I  went  to  Fort 
Steele,  received  the  five  little  goats  from  James  White, 
— who  showed  real  feeling  at  parting  from  his  pets, — 
and  the  long  run  home  began.  So  many  persons  have 
asked  me  how  we  get  our  rarest  wild  animals,  I  am 
tempted  to  add  a  few  lines  regarding  the  transit  of 
Oreamnos. 


340  CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

A  bear  cub  seven  months  old,  a  wolf,  or  a  puma,  can 
endure  to  travel  alone,  and  take  chances  of  being  watered 
and  fed  by  kind-hearted  express  messengers.  In  all  our 
seven  years  of  animal-gathering  by  express,  we  have  not 
lost  an  important  live  animal  in  transit  through  the 
neglect  of  express  messengers.  True,  our  printed  ship- 
ping labels  loudly  appeal  for  "  plenty  of  air,"  "  Do  not 
let  them  die  of  thirst!  "  and  "  Feed  moderately."  At  St. 
Paul  we  have  a  half-way  house,  where  an  agent  attends 
to  the  wants  of  all  animals  coming  to  us  through  his 
express  company. 

Bear  cubs  are  tough,  and  can  travel  alone;  but  moun- 
tain goat  babies  cannot.  They  must  be  cared  for  three 
times  a  day,  as  regularly  as  it  is  possible  for  an  able- 
bodied  courier  to  break  into  the  express  car  where  they 
travel.     It  is  a  serious  undertaking. 

The  five  little  goats  were  shipped  in  two  light  and 
roomy  crates,  in  which  they  could  turn  about  very  freely. 
On  the  top  of  each  crate  was  a  hinged  trap-door,  which 
fastened  with  a  padlock.  The  cracks  of  the  crates  were 
so  narrow  that  no  goat  could  thrust  a  leg  through  and 
have  it  broken  off.  I  had  four  bags  of  freshly-cut  clover, 
a  bag  of  crushed  oats  and  bran,  and  two  watering  pans. 
The  food  supply  was  furnished  by  White,  and  was  sup- 
posed to  be  in  accordance  with  what  the  goats  had  pre- 
viously been  fed  upon. 

They  liked  the  clover,  but  the  bran  and  oats  they 
scorned  to  touch,  save  with  their  feet.  Whenever  I 
offered  a  panful  of  the  ground  feed  they  would  smell 
of  it,  taste  it  once,  and  then,  biff\  3.  stocky  black  hoof 


CAPTIVE    MOUNTAIN    GOATS  341 

would  strike  the  pan  fairly  in  the  centre,  and  knock  it 
into  oblivion.  After  half  a  dozen  snubs  of  this  kind,  I 
ceased  to  offer  objectionable  food,  and  in  Fernie  made 
haste  to  buy  a  bagful  of  cabbage.  The  goats  accepted 
the  amendment,  and  three  times  a  day  thej  stowed  away; 
cabbage  most  gratefully. 

Morning,  noon  and  night,  those  five  little  white 
hobby-horses  were  ravenously  hungry;  and  every  day  at 
noon  they  were  very  thirsty.  How  they  would  have  suf- 
fered had  they  been  dependent,  throughout  the  whole 
of  that  long  trip,  on  such  casual  attention  as  busy  and 
overworked  baggagemen  and  express  messengers  could 
have  given  them!  I  think  that  without  the  care  of  an 
attendant  they  would  have  died  before  reaching  New 
York;  and  I  felt  grateful  to  myself  for  having  had  suffi- 
cient intelligence  to  provide  a  convoy  for  each  shipment 
of  goats  coming  to  us. 

The  green  clover  began  to  heat  in  the  bags,  and  in 
the  bottoms  of  the  crates  at  night.  Every  morning  the 
uneaten  grass  which  served  as  bedding  was  very  hot, 
and  the  goats  were  very  uncomfortable.  Not  a  moment 
was  lost  in  throwing  overboard  that  material.  The 
importunate  billies  and  nannies  stamped  impatiently, 
whined  with  queer  little  nasal  squeaks,  and  pawed  vigor- 
ously at  the  sides  of  their  crates.  It  is  a  good  thing  for 
an  uncomfortable  animal  to  disturb  the  peace  until  its 
wants  receive  attention.  Sometimes  when  the  trap-door 
top  was  opened,  an  impatient  kid  would  hop  out,  and 
require  to  be  gathered  up  and  re-introduced  to  his  nar- 
row temporary  home. 


342  CAMP-FIRES   IN  THE   CANADIAN    ROCKIES 

In  travelling  on  fast  trains,  I  had  great  difficulty  in 
getting  into  the  proper  express  car  and  back  again. 
Overland  express  cars  have  no  end  doors,  and  often  two 
or  three  cars  were  between  the  smoker  and  my  goats. 
Stops  at  stations  were  few  and  brief,  and  I  had  to  figure 
carefully  in  order  to  make  my  three  trips  and  get  back 
without  being  left  by  the  blind  steps  of  closed  vestibules. 

On  the  return  trip,  my  time  was  so  fully  taken  up  in 
caring  for  my  small  goats  that  I  did  practically  nothing 
else,  and  made  for  Mr.  Phillips  a  highly  intermittent 
companion.  But  the  five  goats  finally  reached  the  Zoo- 
logical Park  alive  and  in  riotously  good  health,  and  up  to 
this  date  (July  i )  not  one  of  them  has  had  a  sick  day.  We 
''  point  with  pride  "  to  them  as  the  first  flock  of  their 
kind  ever  achieved  by  a  zoological  institution.  Their 
queer  ways  and  occasional  antics  are  both  amusing  and 
instructive. 

Regarding  human  society,  and  the  human  touch,  they 
are  nervous  little  creatures,  and  also  irritable.  At  your 
earnest  invitation,  they  will  gingerly  approach  your  out- 
stretched hand,  and  sniff  at  your  finger  tips.  Then  they 
stamp  with  their  front  feet,  say  "  Umph !  "  in  a  falsetto 
nasal  squeak,  toss  their  heads  and  whirl  away.  Four  out 
of  the  five  refuse  to  be  petted,  save  by  force.  The  fifth 
is  barely  tolerant  of  a  friendly  and  well-known  hand. 
But  none  of  them  run  and  wildly  bang  themselves  against 
the  fences  as  do  so  many  deer  when  at  close  quarters  with 
man. 

It  is  exceedingly  interesting  to  see  them  leap  against 
their  barn,  or  upon  elevations,  or  climb  on  the  arrange- 


o 


^ 


CAPTIVE    MOUNTAIN    GOATS  343 

ment  that  has  been  built  for  their  amusement.  But  it  is 
unwise  to  hope  that  in  New  York  these  delicate  young 
creatures  will  live  long.  If  any  one  of  the  five  is  alive 
two  years  hence,  we  will  rejoice,  and  call  it  good  fortune. 

And  so  has  ended,  in  our  mountain  goat  corral;  in 
the  mammal  hall  of  the  Carnegie  Museum;  and  in  this 
volume,  our  trip  to  a  wonderland  of  fine  mountains  and 
grand  game.  The  animal  life  of  our  hunting-ground 
was  not  appreciably  afifected  by  our  rifles.  Excepting 
our  grizzly  bears,  we  shot  no  females.  We  made  thor- 
ough use  of  everything  we  killed,  we  left  behind  us  no 
wounded  animals,  and  excepting  the  mule  deer,  we  con- 
verted each  animal  shot  by  us  into  a  preserved  specimen. 
Four  museums  now  have  specimens  from  our  twelve 
head  of  game. 

May  heaven  keep  my  memory  of  it  all  as  fresh  as  the 
breezes  that  blow  on  Goat  Pass,  as  green  as  the  pines  and 
spruces  that  clothe  the  lower  slopes  of  those  delectable 
mountains. 


FAREWELL 


Hn  flDemodam 


While  reading  the  proofs  of  the  last  of  the 
preceding  pages,  a  letter  from  Charlie  Smith 
brought  the  unwelcome  news  that  Dog  Kaiser  is 
no  more.  In  July  last,  while  in  pursuit  of  a  field- 
mouse,  he  leaped  in  front  of  a  mowing-machine 
on  his  master's  ranch,  and  was  killed. 

To  every  sportsman  and  guide  who  knew  Kaiser 
in  camp  and  on  the  trail,  his  untimely  death  has 
caused  genuine  sorrow.  There  never  lived  a  more 
perfect  hunting-dog  for  big  game;  for  he  was  a 
dog  who  made  no  mistakes.  His  senses  were 
keen,  he  knew  when  to  pursue,  and  when  to  save 
himself  by  a  proper  retreat.  On  the  trail  of  large 
game,  he  would  obey  a  strange  sportsman  as 
readily  as  his  own  master;  and  few  hunting-dogs 
will  do  that.  He  never  was  permitted  to  range 
free,  or  to  chase  any  hoofed  game  save  when  it 
was  to  be  photographed. 

In  breed,  Kaiser  was  part  collie,  and  partly 
plain  hunting-dog.  As  a  hunter  of  intelligence, 
obedience,  skill  and  courage,  he  contributed  much 
toward  the  success  of  a  number  of  sportsmen  and 
naturalists,  and  in  the  annals  of  big-game  hunt- 
ing and  photography,  he  fairly  earned  a  place. 


344 


INDEX 


INDEX 


Alaska,  mountain  goat  in,  107 
Andrews,  A.  L.,  107 
Anemone,  lace-leaved,  59 
Animal  life  on  the  summits,  293 
Anorthuia  hiemalis  pacificus,  318 
"Antelope,"  goat,  95 
Ants  eaten  by  grizzlies,  174 
Arctomys  pruinosus,  303 
Aspen,  or  quaking-asp,  138 
Autopsy  of  grizzly  bear,  168 
Avalanche   Creek,   77,   91,    137,   236, 

281,  321,  329 
Avalanche  Valley,  182 
Avalanches,  see  Slides 
Avens,  mountain,  65 

Bald  Mountain,  46,  55,  65 
Balsam,  138 

Basin  at  Phillips  Peak,  141 
Bear,  black,  16,  207,  304 

that  got  away,  2X0 

grizzly,  see  Grizzly  Bear 
Bear-hunting  in  spring,  287 
Bear-Paw  Mountains,  4 
Beaver  trapped,  205 
Berries  of  the  mountains,  45,  157 
Big-Horn  Sheep,  see  Sheep 
Binoculars,  54 
Bird  Mountain,  56,  65 
Black  bear,  16,  159,  207,  210,  304 
Black  mountain  sheep,  253,  255 
Bluebirds,  23 
Bovidae,  family,  97 
Breeding  habits  of  grizzly,  1 73 
Breeze,  W.  L.,  107 
Brewster,  James,  125 
British  Columbia,  10^ 

big  game,  8 

game  laws,  7  '  v. 


British  Columbia,  mountains  of,  36 
Brooks,  Alfred  H.,  107 
Buffalo  plains,  3 
Bull  River,  53,  155 
Bungers,  244,  264 

Cache  of  grizzly  bear,  169 
Callospermophilus     lateralis     cineres- 

cens,  300 
Camp,  Goat  Pass,  47 

Hornaday,  91,  199 

Lake  Josephine,  324 

Necessity,  238,  247 

Sulphur  Spring,  22 
Camp-fire  tales,  212,  221 
Canadian  Pacific  Railway,  7,  10 
Canis  latrans,  314 
Capra,  96,  97 
Caprinas,  subfamily,  97 
Carnegie  Museum,  specimens  for,  2, 

86,  249 
Chamaenerion  angustifolium,  51 
Chamois,  97 

Chipmunk,  buff-bellied,  310 
Citellus  columbianus,  149,  175 

franklini,  14 
Cliff-climbing  by  goat5,  57 
Climbing,  costume  for,  53,  134,  140 

in  the  mountains,  39,  46,  78,  132 
Crow,  Clark's,  144 
Crow's  Nest  Pass  Coal  Company,  il 
Crahan,  Thomas,  I2 
Color  values  in  the  mountains,  50 
Comparison  of 

courage,  in  goat  and  grizzly,  113 

flesh  of  goat,  sheep  and  deer,  203 

form,  in  goat  and  sheep,  262 

intelligence,     in    goat    and    sheep, 
"5 


?47 


348 


INDEX 


Comparison  of  nerve,  in  goat,  sheep 
and  deer,  115,  118 
size,  of  goat,  sheep  and  deer,  261 
vision,  in  goat  and  sheep,  118 

Continental  Divide,  67,  141 

Cooking  in  camp,  200 

Costume  for  climbing,  53,  134,  140 

Coyotes,  315 

Currants,  black.,  157 

Cyclorama  Ridge,  325 

Danger  from 

falling  trees,  161,  329 

log-running,  330 

snow-slides,  283,  287 
Deer,  Columbian  black-tailed,  315 

mule,  203,  315 

white-tailed,  315 
Dendragapus  obscurus,  316 
Descent  of  mountains,  90,  134,  327 
"Down"    timber,    6,    42,    322,    328, 

329 
Dryas  octopetala,  66,  83 
Drying  meat,  201 
"Duchess,"  grizzly  bear,  222 
Duck,  harlequin,  317 
"Duke  of  Wellington,"  grizzly  bear, 

225 
Dump,  the,  143 
Dunham,  M.  P.,  103 
Dyche,  Prof.  L.  L.,  176 

Eagle,  golden, 

preying  upon  goats,  120 

preying  upon  sheep,  263 

seen  on  summits,  319 
Elderberries,  157 
Elevations  in  Fernie  District,  68 
Elk,  19 

seen  at  Phillips  Peak,  142 

tracks  at  Lake  Josephine,  323 
Elk  River,  11 
Elk  Valley,  34,  68 
Elliot,  D.  G.,  107 
Erethizon  epixanthus,  271,  301 
Eutamias  luteiventris,  300 


Falco  columbarius,  23 

Fannin's   mountain   sheep,   253,   254, 

256 
False  Notch,  130,  291 
Felis  concolor,  304 
Fenwick,  Arthur  B.,  121 
Fernie,  7,  10 

mountain  elevations  at,  68 

Game  Protective  Association,  7,  9 
Fighting  powers  of  goat,  120,  121,  123 
Fire  weed,  51 

Fishing  in  Fording  River,  28 
Flathead  River,  6 
Food  of 

Franklin  grouse,  22 

grizzly  bear,   160,   173,   174,   176 

marten,  313 

mountain  goat,  105,  108 

mountain  sheep,  261 

pika,  297 

wolverine,  308 
Fool-Hen,  20,  153,  316 
Fording  River,  13 

fishing  in,  28 
Frank,  catastrophe  at,  287 
Franklin  ground-squirrel,  14 
Franklin  grouse,  20,  153,  316 

Game  laws  of  British  Columbia,  7 

Gateway  station,  7 

Goat  Creek,  39,  44,  50 

Goat-licks,  238 

Goat  Pass,  46,  49,  289 

Goat,  the  mountain, 

accidents  to,  109,  125 

affection  of,  119 

appearance  of,  93,  95,  99 

at  Goat  Pass  camp,  48,  52 

beard  of,  102 

classification  of,  95,  97 

climbing  by  kid,  241 

climbing  by  the,  135 

climbing  powers  of,  93,  102,  125 

courage  of,  112,  118,  119,  120 

dew-claws  of,  lOl 

dogs  killed  by,  121,  122 

eaten  by  grizzly,  160 


INDEX 


349 


Goat,  enemies  of,  112 

eyes  of,  100 

fearlessness  of,  112,  114,  136 

fighting  powers  of,  120,  121,  123 

flesh  of,  108,  203 

food  of,  105,  108 

gait  of,  in  walking,  94 

geographic  range  of,  106 

glands  of,  100 

grizzly  frightens,  124 

hoofs  of,  10 1 

horns  of,  99 

how  to  hunt,  in 

killed  in  snow-slide,  lOg 

lame  m.  g.  seen,  48 

living  grounds  of,  102 

measurements  of,  63,  89 

m.  g.  not  an  "antelope,"  95 

pelage  of,  98 

philosophic  mind  of,  115 

reasoning  powers  of,  115,  117 

running  of,  262 

rutting  season  of,  109 

self-trapping  of,  125 

size  of,  261 

stupidity  alleged  of,  in,  118 

swimming  powers  of,  in 

visual  powers  of,  113 

wandering  habits  of,  103 

weight  of,  69,  90 

winter  habits  of,  108 
Goats,  mountain, 

appearance  of,  59,  85 

at  bay,  71 

at  rest,  55,  82,  109 

cliff-climbing  by,  57 

first  sight  of,  46 

hunting,  56,  77-90 

leaping  down  by,  72 

Mr.  Phillips    photographs,  13,  48, 

74 
on  Phillips  Peak,  81 
photographed  by  Prof.  Osborn,  13 
run  through  camp,  48 
thirteen  adult  male,  82 
Goats,  captive  mountain, 

at  Boston  and  Philadelphia,  333 


Goats,  Deer  Lodge  specimen,  ^^^ 
food  for,  337,  340 
for  N.  Y.  Zoological  Park,  334,  336, 

339 

taken  to  London,  324 

traits  of,  342 
Gopher,  150,  299 
Gorals,  97 

Grant,  Madison,  106,  120,  252 
Grass  eaten  by  grizzlies,  173 
Great  Northern  Railway,  2,  4,  5,  6,  10 
Green  timber,  40 
Grinnell,  George  Bird,  104 
Ground-squirrel, 

ashy-mantled,  300 

Columbia  River,  149 

Franklin,  14 
Grouse,  blue,  316 

dusky,  316 

Franklin,  20,  153,  316 

sooty,  316 
Grizzly  bear, 

author  opposes  trapping,  180 

baits  avoided  by,  177,  225 

berries  eaten  by,  174 

breeding  habits  of,  173 

cubs  of  the,  173 

cache  made  by,  169 

calendar  of  the,  173 

cannibalism  in  the,  174,  177 

carrion  eaten  by,  177 

change  in  temper  of,  113 

claws  of  the,  179 

death  of  a,  165 

goat  eaten  by,  160 

hunting  the,  162 

killed  by  Mr.  Phillips,  222,  225,  276 

killed  by  goat,  122 

modern  rifles  feared  by,  176 

pelage  of,  174 

preying  upon  ground-squirrels,  149 

rubbing  trees  of,  159 

scarcity  of  the,  172,  179 

several  g.  b.  together,  269 

shedding  of  coat  by,  173 

"silver-tip"  and,  179 

solitary  habits  of,  176 


3  so 


INDEX 


Grizzly,  species  of,  178 

spring  food  of,    173 

summer  food  of,  173,  174,  176 

tooth-marks  of,  159 

weight  of  the,  177 
Gunnison,  R.  A.,  107 

Hains,  a.  G.,  107 
"Hare,"  little  chief,  149,  295 
Harlequin  duck,  317 
Hawks,  319 
Hedysarum,  175,  261 
Herchmer,  H.  W.,  7,  106 
Hill  of  slide-rock,  281 
Harmer's  ranch,  16 
Hornaday,  camp,  91,  182,  199 
Hornaday  Mountain,  18 
Horns  of  big-horn  sheep,  251,  252,  259 
Horror  of  the  rocks,  198,  228 
Horses  in  the  mountains,  37,  42 
Huckleberries,  156,  157,  175,  326 
Huddleston,  G.  E.,  15,  100,  328 
Huffman,  L.  A.,  201 
Hunting  grizzly  bears,  162,  222,  225, 
276 
mountain  goats,  46,  77 

Ibexes,  97 
Indian  trails,  43,  161 
Indians,   Stoney,    great   gamc-killcrs, 
264 

Jack  pine,  16,  328 
Jay,  Canada,  144,  319 
Jones,  C.  J.,  112 
Josephine  Falls,  13,  28 

Lake,  94,  323 
Jumbo,  grizzly  bear,  death  of,  207 
Juniper,  trailing,  51,  52 
Juniperus  prostrata,  52 

Kaiser,  13,  14,  47,  162,  300 

assists  in  photographing  goats,  187 
death  of,  344 

Kaiser  Lake,  162 

Keller,  E.  F.,  167 

Kermode,  Francis,  107 


Kidder,  James  H.,  107,  116 
Kootenay  River,  6 

Lake  Josephine,  94,  323 

Monro,  323 
Larch,  138 

Laws,  game,  of  British  Columbia,  7,  8 
Leonard,  Thomas  D.,  116 
Lewis  and  Clark  Club,  i 
Lewis  and  Clark  Forest  Reserve,  6 
Lewis,  Jack,  228 
Limestone,  carboniferous,  66 
Log-running,  over  down  timber,  322, 

330 
Lynx,  Canada,  304 

MacDougal,  Dr.  D.  T.,  105 
Magpie,  319 
Markhors,  97 
Marmot,  hoary,  303 
Marston,  Charles,  263 
Marten,  pine,  312 

climbing  powers  of,  313 

ferocious  temper  of,  314 

trap  for,  19 

trapped,  205,  312 

value  of,  312 
Matches  that  wouldn't  light,  233 
McEvoy,  James,  geologist,  68 
McKenzie,  W.  C.,  107 
McKern,  James,  106,  107 
McLean,  W.  J.,  107 
Meat,  process  for  drying,  201 
Michel,  British  Columbia,  11 
Michel  Hotel,  12 
Montana,  3 

Mountain  goat,  see  Goat,  and  Goats 
Mountain,  Hornaday,  18 

Osborn,  i  3 

Phillips,  238 

Roth,  91,  159,  237 

Sheep, 18,  229 
Mountain  sheep,  big-horn,  see  Sheep 
Mountain-sides,  36,  51,  65,  138,  143, 

152 
Mountain  travel,  35 
Monro,  George  N.,  21,  323 


INDEX 


3S^ 


Moose,  315 

Moose-bird,  319 

Mule  deer,  decrease  of,  315 

size  of,  261 
Mushrooms  as  squirrel  food,  302 
Mustela  americana,  312 

Nature,  getting  next  to,  145 
Necessity,  camp,  238,  247 
Nelson's  mountain  sheep,  253 
Neotomas,  14 

Neotoma  cinerea  drummondi,  302 
Norboe,  John  R.,  249 

bear  story  told  by,  219 

peril  of,  237 

sketch  of,  204 
Norboe,  R.  M.  ("Mack"),  270,  275 

helps  photograph  goats,  184 

bear  story  told  by,  207,  225 

goats  captured  by,  336 

in  bear  hunt,  270 

sketch  of,  204 
North  Dakota,  3 
Northern  Pacific  Railway,  4 
Nuchal  hump  on  sheep,  257 
Nucifraga  columbiana,  319 
Nutcracker,  Clark's,  319,  320 

OCHOTONA  PRINCEPS,  295 

Opera-glass  for  use  in  mountains,  54 
Oreamnos  montanus,  63 
Osborn,  Professor  Henry  Fairfield,  12, 
120 

goats  photographed  by,  119 
Osborn,  Mrs.  H.  F.,  13 

Miss  Josephine,  28 
Osborn  Mountain,  13 
Outlaw  in  camp,  story  of,  213 
Ouzel,  water,  318 
Ovis  canadensis,  see  Sheep,  big-horn 

dalli,  253,  254 

fannini,  253,  256 

nelsoni,  253 

stonei,  254 

Pack-rat,  14,  302 
Pack-train,  management  of,  37 


Pasque  flower,  297 
Pastime  of  mountain  sheep,  144 
Peaks,  destruction  of,  291 
Perisoreus  canadensis,  319 
Phillips,  John  M., 

bear  stories  told  by,  210,  222 

climbing  kid  seen  by,  241 

first  goats  photographed  by,  48 

frightened  goats  seen  by,  124 

goat  shot  by,  60 

grizzlies  shot  by,  224,  227,  275 

large  goat  photographed  by,  184-197 

mountain  sheep  shot  by,  243 
Phillips  Peak,  65,  67,  69 
Phillipps-WoUey,  Clive,  99,  106 
Photographing  author's  grizzly,  166 

mountain  goats,  48,  71,  181 

mountain  sheep,  74 

ptarmigans,  69 
Pica  pica  hudsonica,  319 
Picea  Engelmanni,  40 
Pigeon-hawk,  23 
Pika,  148,  295 
Pike,  Warburton,  106 
Pine,  jack,  16,  328 

lodge-pole,  16 

tree  scarred  by  ram,  144 
Pinus  diviricata,  16 
Pirie,  Samuel  C,  106 
Porcupine,  271,  301 
Proctor,  A.  P.,  106 
Ptarmigan,  willow,  69,  154 
Pulsatilla  occidentalis,  59,  297 
Puma,  kills  a  big-horn,  263 

northern  limit  of,  304 

Rabbit,  snow-shoe,  303 
RadclyfFe,  Capt.  C.  E.,  259,  260 
Raspberries,  44 
Record  head,  definition  of,  251 

heads  of  big-horn,  252 
Rexford,  6 

Rheumatism,    among     mountaineers, 
288 

sulphur  spring  for,  26 
Rocky  Mountains,  5,  6 
Rolling  on  mountain  slopes,  79,  90, 132 


352 


INDEX 


Roth,  J.  E.,  252,  337 
Roth  Mountain,  91,  159,  237 
Routt  Co.,  Colo.,  bears  in,  207 
Rubbing-trees  of  bears,  159 
Rule  for  sheep  horns,  253 
Rupicaprinae,  subfamily,  97 
Rungius,  Carl,  1 16 

Sage-brush,  4 

Salmo  clarkii,  29 

Salvelinus  parkei,  30 

Savage,  Tom,  215 

Saxifrage,  83 

Sciurus  hudsonius  richardsoni,  301 

Senicio  triangularis,  297 

Serows,  97 

Service-berry,  157,  174 

Sheep,  big-horn, 

agility  of,  262 

attempt  to  capture,  229 

compared  with  goat,  262 

culminating  point  of,  251 

distribution  of,  251,  254 

enemies  of,  263 

fighting  methods  of,  258,  259 

flesh  of,  203 

food  of,  261 

habitat  of,  236 

hoof  of,  262 

horns  of,  251,  252,  259,  263 

in  deep  snow,  231 

measurements  of,  249 

mental  traits  of,  1 1 6,  262 

new  law  needed  for,  8 

nuchal  hump  on,  257 

observed,  ']'i„  146 

panic  of,  119 

photographing,  74 

scarcity  of,  263 

seen  near  goats,  76 

size  of,  249,  261 

weight  of,  249 
Sheep,  mountain, 

black,  254 

Call's,  253,  254 

Fannin's,  107,  116 

Nelson's,  253 


Sheep,  white,  253,  254 

Sheldon,  Charles,  107,  116,  235,  254, 

256 
Shields,  George  O.,  106,  251 

great  goat-lick  found  by,  239 

injured  goat  seen  by,  no 
Shields'  Magazine,  260,  337 
Silver-tip,  see  Grizzly  Bear 
Sioux  Indians,  4 
Sioux  Reservation,  4 
Slide-rock,  43 

character  of,  290 

greatest  bed  of,  289 

hill  of,  281 

how  dispersed,  290 

how  made,  290 

in  Waterfall  Notch,  148 
Slides,  snow,  280,  287 

dangers  of,  283 

dry,  285 

frequency  of,  289 

timber,  282 

wet,  284 
Smith,  Charles  L.,  39 

"appreciation"  of,  1 29 

attempt  to  capture  sheep  by,  229 

bear  signs  found  by,  158 

capture  of  goats  by,  335,  336 

capture  of  sheep  by,  336 

capture  of  wolverine  by,  310 

contribution  on  snow-slides  by,  283 

contribution  on  wolverine  by,  306, 

309 

eagle  and  goats  seen  by,  120 

grizzly  found  by,  163 

letter  from,  'i^T^'j 

narrow  escape  of,  230 

observations  of,  on  coyote,  314 

story  of  outlaw  by,  213 
Snow  combs,  288 
Snow-slides,  see  Slides 
Soues,  F.,  106 

Spruce,  Canadian  white,  40,  51,  79 
Squaw-root,  297 
Squirrel,  Oregon  pine,  301 
Stanfield,  Y..  A.,  goats  photographed 
by,  184 


INDEX 


3S3 


Stephenson,  I.  N.,  107 
Stephenson,  W.,  106,  109 
Stoney  Indians,  264 
Sulphur  Spring,  23,  24 
Summits,  features  of  the,  66,  140 
Sun  gardens,  288 
Sweet-Grass  Hills,  5 
Swimming  by  goats,  in 

Tahrs,  97 

Takin,  97 

Taylor,  E.  J.,  252 

Temperature,  changes  of,  in  climbing, 

139,  161 
Thimbleberry,  157 
Timber,  "down,"  6,  42,  322,  328,  329 

green,  40 
Timber-line,  69,  153 
Trail-cutting,  328 

Trails  in  the  mountains,  41,  43,  161 
Transportation  of  live  goats,  340 
Trap  for  marten,  19 

wolverine,  309,  310 
Trappers,  modern,  203-205 
Travel  in  the  mountains,  35 
Travellers  who  do  not  see,  127 
Trout,  29 
Turs,  97 

Tyrrell,  J.  B.,  107 
Tyrrell,  J.  W.,  306 

United  States,  goat  in,  106 
United  States  boundary,  7,  67 

Valleys  in  Columbian  Rockies,  36 
Van  Nostrand,  Benjamin  T.,  106,  338 
fighting  goats  seen  by,  122 

Waterfall  Notch,  147 
Wellman,  F.  B.,  117,  119,  260 


Wheat  lands  of  the  Northwest,  2 

Whiskey  jack,  319 

Whistler,  303 

White,  James,  122,  339 

White  mountain  sheep,  253,  254,  255 

Wild-Cat  Charlie's  ranch,  38 

Williams,  J.,  107 

Willow-herb,  51 

Willow,  yellow,  138 

Wilson  Creek,  326 

Windbreaks  on  summits,  55,  154 

Wolverine,  305,  306 

breeding  of,  308 

captured  alive,  310 

climbing  powers  of,  306 

destructiveness  of,  307,  308 

not  gluttinous,  308 

outwitted  by  trapper,  309 

range  of  individual,  306 
Wolverines  at  goat  remains,  1 70 

trapped,  205 
Wolves,  314 
Worden,  James,  107 
Wren,  winter,  318 
Wright,  W.  H.,  106,  176,  179,  239,  283 

on  habits  of  goat,  iii 

photographs  injured  goat,  no 

Yukon  Territory,  mountain  goat 
in,  107 

Zoological  Park,  New  York,  311 
grizzly  cubs  born  in,  173 
mountain  goats  in,  339,  342 

Zoological  Society,  New  York, 
goats  captured  for,  334,  336,  339 
wolverine  captured  for,  310 

Zoological    Society,    of    Philadelphia, 

333 
of  London,  324 


BOOKS  BY  W.  T.  HORNADAY 

PUBLISHED    BY    CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 

The  American 
Natural  History 

Illustrated  by  220  original  drawings  by  Beard,   Rungius,   and  Sawyer, 

and  100  photographs  by  Sanborn,  Keller,  and  Underwood,  and 

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BY      W.     T.      HORNADAY 

The  American 
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Illustrated  by  220  original  drawings  by   Beard,   Rungius,   and   Sawyer, 

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■5D 


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AMNH    LIBRARY 


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