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ALASKA- SOIR ON
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J® A. MCGUIRE

Introduction by

WILLIAM T. HORNADAY

(Photographs by the author)

CINCINNATI
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STEWART & KIDD COMPANY

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Set up and Electroplated by THE A®INGDON PREss
Published April, 1921

THOSE PRINCELY SPIRITS
OF OUR LAND WHO HAVE GIVEN,

IN TIME AND MONEY, THAT OUR PRECIOUS
foil life
MAY BE PRESERVED TO POSTERITY

THIS VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY

DEDICATED BY

The Author

Chapter

CONTENTS

Introduction, by William T. Hornaday

Enroute to the Hunting Grounds

In the Goat and Glacier Fields

Russell Glacier - - - - -

Sheep—Both White and Dark—a Digression

On the Sheep Ranges - - -
Sheep, Moose and Caribou -
Moose and Caribou - - -

Rams and Caribou - - -

A New Species of Caribou—Rangifer mcguirei

Homeward Bound i Aras
Outfitting Hints
Afterthoughts - - - - -

Io!

141
163
179
187
se,
214

No.

2 ex

IO.
BL:

PELUSTRALLONS

Good-bye to home for seventy days - - -

Our first impression of traveling on a glacier—
the Nizina. Going goat hunting this morning

Scene of a busy camp. Everybody must work
during packing-up time - - - - - -

Crossing, midst grand surroundings, a glacial
Sereammptie brederika 9-9-8 = "6-5 =

Cliffs, canyons and hills of the glacial moraine
—Russell Glacier -- -

Upper picture—A “kettle-biled” naga in “ines
caribou country. Middle— How a sheep
specimen was damaged by eagles. Lower—
A large white sheep - - - - -

The beautiful Kletsan camp on White Bees -

The “Too-Much” Johnson cabin, Kletsan Creek

Upper picture—The author and 45-inch moose.
Middle—Grayling fishing on Harris Creek.
Lower—A fly came in handy to sleep under
atuokolat Pass; <=. =.= = = 44) =) =

Skinning specimens in the taxidermist’s tent -

Left picture—Mr. James and his night abode
for six weeks. Middle—The author and a
nice specimen of white sheep. Right—A
horse falls in a crevice on Nizina Glacier -

Group of rangifer mcguirel - - - - - -

Type specimen of rangifer mcguirel - - - -

The singular dentition found in rangifer
meguiter = - - Sis SRS a as

Nearing the end fi Resell iGlaces twenty-
four horses in line -

Route traveled by the party in | Alaska and
Yukon Territory - - - - - - - -

INTRODUCTION

VIEWED from any side or angle, a long,
arduous and costly expedition from Denver
to the north-eastern boundary of Alaska in the
interest of museum groups of wild animals well
may be regarded as a tribute to the Museum
Group Idea. Moreover, as hunting trips go,
that kind of “‘game’”’ is well “worth the candle.”
Up to this time, the term “habitat group” is
of new coinage, and very generally unknown.
In a few words, it stands for an assemblage of
important zoological specimens that have been
mounted by the taxidermist’s art, surrounded by
natural or artificial trees, plants, flowers, rocks,
land and water, either drawn from or made to
represent the natural haunts of the beasts or
birds, and displayed in a museum case specially
designed for it.

The animal specimens must be the finest of
fine. The accessories must be provided lavishly,
and with consummate skill. Each large group
of this kind represents a tour de force, and many
of them are masterpieces of real art. They are
expected to endure for a century or longer, and
to interest and instruct millions of people long
after the species represented have oe exter-
minated by the grinding progress of modern
civilization.

INTRODUCTION

Many sportsmen have gone far, risked much
and toiled long in the procuring of rare animals
and accessories for habitat groups. In the list
of unpaid men who have done so, we find the
names of Theodore Roosevelt, Col. Cecil Clay,
John M. Phillips, Childs Frick, Richard Tjader,
CG. VisR, Radclittes: Wiss: Rainsford and the
author of this volume.

Work of this kind appeals particularly to
sportsmen with an inborn love for creative work,
and delight in the construction of fine, monu-
mental things out of the raw materials. Mr.
McGuire first ‘‘tasted blood” in the making of
museum groups when he hunted and killed the
largest specimens for the splendid group of silver-
tip grizzly bears that now is a source of pride to
his home museum in Denver. Beyond a doubt,
it was the joyous contemplation of that master-
piece, so ably and satisfactorily wrought out
by and under the direction of Director Jesse D.
Figgins, that inspired the trip over the long trail
to Alaska and Yukon Territory, and here do I
ask this question:

What finer sentiment could inspire any trip in
quest of big game than the intent to bring into
existence two or three great habitat groups to
entertain and to educate Americans, old and
young, long after Time has overtaken the gallant
hunter, and his rifle has been hung up forever

I have seen “the White River country” of
North-eastern Alaska and Yukon Territory re-

INTRODUCTION

ferred to as “the last big-game hunting ground
of North America.” Can it be true that this
claim, or feeling, constituted Mr. McGuire’s
reason for going over 300 miles from salt water to
look for big game? Where are the giant moose,
the Kenai caribou and the white sheep of the
Kenai Peninsula? Where are the moose that
were so big and so abundant in the Susitna val-
ley only twenty years ago? Where are the white
sheep of the Matinuska, common enough for all
purposes in 1900 and after?

But let us not say that those hunting grounds
are one and all “shot out,” or forever closed to
the sportsman. Not until we are compelled, do
we admit the state of “‘no game.” Let us believe
that the lure of the McGuire party was the really
magnificent wide-horned breed of white sheep
that is found, in numbers really worth while, in
the White River country. We will not soon for-
get our astonishment when we first saw a collec-
tion of five wide-horned sheep heads from that
region. We are glad that Mr. McGuire’s party
obtained fine specimens of that very interesting
development of Ovis dalli.

I find Mr. McGuire’s story and pictures more
interesting than any mere moving-picture trav-
els. His graphic and conscientious pen gives us
the action, and his pictures furnish the local
color so dear to the heart of the reader. Jaded
indeed must be the mind that cannot turn from
the worries and the care of the daily business

INTRODUCTION

life to this stirring portrayal of travel and adven-
ture, in a strange and wild land after strange
-wild beasts.

We are glad that the Colorado Museum of
Natural History is prosperous, and in need of
the groups that intrepid sportsmen and skilled
taxidermists together can create. We are glad
that this trip was made, and that Mr. McGuire
has given us this admirable account of it. The
personnel of the expedition seems to have been
excellently composed. The local coéperation
was gratifying and effective. The supply of
game was sufficient, and the killing was done
with commendable moderation. Such toll of
wild life as was taken by that party does not
spell extermination; and we hold that there is no
higher use to which a dead wild animal can be
devoted than to mount it for permanent exhibi-
ticn in a free public museum.

Incidentally, the pictures of far northern scen-
ery, life and character herein set forth are dis-
tinctly educational, and to the honor and glory
of Alaska and Yukon Territory. They draw us
nearer to our great Arctic province, whose people
now are somewhat irritated and inclined to chafe
over the neglectful treatment that for forty years
and more has been bestowed upon that far-away
land. The Congress and people of the United
States never have taken Alaska with sufficient
seriousness; and the people of Alaska have been
strangely slow and backward in setting forth

INTRODUCTION

before the American people their governmental
and administrative rights and needs.

Far too long and too much has Alaska been
left to work out her own salvation. Now Alas-
kans are beginning to clamor for the privileges
of statehood—long before their territorial re-
sources are sufficient for Alaska’s many needs.

It is the duty of Congress, and of all fair-
minded Americans, to take a proper amount of
interest in Alaska, and put Alaska in the list of
well-financed and well-managed political and
economic units of the American possessions.

WiLi1AmM JT. Hornapay.

First (hapter

EPNROULE FOr THE HUNTING
GROUNDS

THE HEART OF THE SOURDOUGH

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

There where the livid tundras keep their tryst with the tranquil snows ;
There where the silences are spawned, and the light of hell-fire flows
Into the bowl of the midnight sky, violet, amber and rose.

There where the rapids churn and roar, and the ice-floes bellowing run ;
Where the tortured, twisted rivers of blood rush to the setting sun—
I’ve packed my kit and I’m going, boys, ere another day is done.

—Robert Service.

FIRS) CHAPTER
ENROUTE TO THE HUNTING GROUNDS

if HOPE to be pardoned for entertaining no

ambition, in this work, to produce an ex-
haustive treatise on the hunting possibilities
of either Alaska or Yukon Territory; for to
emerge from a two-months’ trip into the wilds of
that country and be able to write a history of it
would be about as impossible as to return from a
month’s visit to Timbuctoo and pen an accurate
chronicle of the whole African race. First, the
coast and interior of Alaska are about as dissimi-
lar as the two sides of the Cascade Mountains
of Washington—the coast being warm, wet and
woodsy, while the interior is dry and sunny—
and in winter fiercely cold, sometimes reaching
down to the very chilly level of 75 degrees below
zero. For 200 miles inland this rain belt reaches,
and thru its width one encounters ferns, vines
and underbrush to an almost impenetrable de-
gree—where bears, berries and the usual aquatic
plants and fowls are numerous. Here on the
coast bears and ducks furnish the sport for the -
hunter—and no “‘milk-and-water’’ Nimrod is he
who braves the elements and the hard traveling

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

conditions usually found here. It takes a man
of strong heart and stout limb to stalk the bear
and shoot the duck in this labyrinth of vine and
shrub entanglement in the rain and snow, which
are so prevalent here. Seattle with her thirty-
four inches of precipitation a year seems like an
arid country when compared with Ketchikan,
Juneau and Cordova, each of which piles up any-
where from 125 to 175 inches a year; while Colo-
rado, with her fifteen inches of moisture, is in-
deed “bone-dry” in comparison. A_ school
teacher at Ketchikan recently was explaining
about the Flood, saying that it rained for forty
days and forty nights, and that all on the earth
were drowned except those in the ark. One lit-
tle child spoke up, saying no one could make him
believe that story. “‘Why?” asked the teacher.
“Because,” said the boy, “it’s been raining here
every day the last ten years and nobody’s been
drowned yet.”

The Colorado Museum of Natural History,
Denver, fostering a well-founded notion that it
should be second to no other such institution in
the West or Middle West, and harboring within
its organization some of America’s greatest nat-
uralists, philanthropists and sportsmen, finished,
during the past three years, a beautiful and com-
modious wing to its already magnificent struc-
ture in’ Denver's City Park (@ eift from Wire:
Helen Standley—while Harry James and his sis-
ter, Mrs. Lemen, have donated $100,000 for a

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ENROUTE TO THE HUNTING GROUNDS

similar wing on the south side of the building).
And in order that this wing or the cases provided
to be set in it should not go unadorned, the mu-
seum board, thru its very efficient director, Jesse
D. Figgins, appointed Harry C. James and the
writer to head an expedition to Alaska and Yu-
kon Territory for the purpose of collecting some
mammal groups suitable to fill the new wing.
So, armed with sundry licenses, permits and
plenary portfolios from the United States, Alas-
kan and Yukon governments (to say nothing of
divers big guns and hundreds of shells of very sub-
stantial power and velocity), we boarded a Union
Pacific train in Denver on the evening of July 27,
1918, bound for Seattle. Added to our hunting
party—which was composed of Mr. James, his
son William, and the writer—was Al Rogers,
the museum taxidermist, whose duty it was to
take care of the specimens secured on the trip.

A two-and-a-half-day streak along smooth
rails landed our party of four in Seattle, where
we met John H. Bunch, the Sequoian chief of
the Alaska Steamship Company’s destinies in
that district; George Allen, the vim-and-vigor
merchant of that burg, and C. C. Filson, the
outing goods outfitter and manufacturer of the
well-known Filson Cruiser Shirt. These genial
gentlemen seemed to lose all interest in their
business, their families and in their religion,
when we struck the city, for they gave up every-
thing for our comfort and amusement.

He)

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

The time passed quickly on the good ship
Alaska (of the Alaska Steamship Line) from
Seattle as far as Skagway, the short stops at the
latter point, at Ketchikan and Juneau inter-
posing a lively diversion from the quiet roll of
the boat up the Inside Passage. Singing, danc-
ing, cards, lectures, sourdough talks and tete-a-
tete parties formed absorbing amusement for the
passengers while going up. Prof. Herschel C.
Parker, of Mount McKinley climbing fame, was
on board, and in a stump speech told us of the
experiences of Bellmore Brown and_ himself
while climbing the great mountain. Governor
Riggs and wife boarded the boat at Juneau, and
from there to Cordova were passengers with us.
Other notable personages on the boat were
Thomas J. Corcoran, a big-game hunter, of Cin-
cinnati, Ohio, and two of his guides (Archie Mac-
Lennan and Frank Williams); Dr. George Curtis
Martin, of the U. S. Geological Survey, who has
made annual trips to Alaska in the interest of
the government for more than a dozen years;
and C. C. Georgeson, D.Sc., agronomist in charge
of Alaska experimental stations at Sitka—a
truly representative and brainy aggregation of
men.

A whale spouted 200 yards away to the lar-
board as we cut thru the waters after leaving
Dixon’s Entrance. I was one of those lucky
enough to see the monster perform. Clear skies
and favorable winds were with us until after

ENROUTE TO THE HUNTING GROUNDS

passing Cape Spencer, lying beyond Skagway.

At this point our boat took to the open sea, leav-
ing the protective islands, behind which she had
quietly glided almost continually since leaving
Seattle. And right here is where one of the most
malicious attempts to swamp a boat that ever
occurred was almost pulled off by a sub-sea
“force.” Before we could collect our thoughts,
it seemed, Old Neptune took a dive under our
boat, succeeding, within four inches, of upsetting
the craft. I was in my stateroom at the time.
Harry James was telling some ladies—and their
husbands—(while seated in a very cozy corner of
the aft deck) the difference between raising muf-
fins in a high altitude and raising hirsute locks
on a billiard ball; Rogers was singing some pretty
things to a pretty girl from Spokane, while Will-
iam James, firmly braced against the corner rail-
ing of his seat on the main deck, was an unwilling
listener to the cooings of a widow from Walla
Walla. As before stated, I was in my stateroom,

where I should have been, at. the time, most
likely writing a prelude to this story: (Or, pos-
sibly, I was penciling a preamble to the sermon
that the minister was to preach on arrival at
Cordova. My memory is greatly at fault now,
owing to the shock received.) At any rate, I re-
member what happened afterward. It was
about 9:30 in the evening, and as Old Nep made
his first dive I was precipitated with much force
and violence against the bed railing, and as he

pli

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

dove back again I felt myself flung against the
opposite wall. It seemed my feet couldn’t travel
fast enough to keep up with my body, the result
being that I was recklessly tossed hither and
thither until the crust of my anatomy and my
wearing apparel looked more like a shredded
laundry basket than a human shell and a coil of
clothes. It’s a good thing my supper had already
digested. Iwas being juggled about the state-
room much like a fly in a cream separator.when
the door opened and the Captain’s smiling face
intruded:

“Come down to the dining room and have a
little spread with me, and you'll feel better,” he
said. “It’s my birthday, and I’m asking several
of the passengers down.”’

I threw myself out the door and tried to follow
him. It seemed really unnecessary for us to de-
scend the stairs to the dining room, as the floor
of that room came up to meet us as we started
down. As we all sat at the Captain’s table he
said: “I hope all twenty-five of you will have a
pleasant trip, and that this assembly of twenty-
four will be much benefited by the voyage. I
look upon these twenty-two smiling faces as a
father upon his family, for I am responsible for
the safety of this group of seventeen. I hope all
fourteen of you will join me in drinking a toast to
a merry trip. I believe that we eight are most
congenial, and I applaud the judgment which
chose these three persons for my table. You and

ENROUTE TO THE HUNTING GROUNDS

I, my dear sir, are—there, steward, clear away
and bring me fish.” It may safely be assumed,
from my behavior on this boat, that I was not
the ‘my dear sir” referred to by the captain (as
I didn’t remain that long), nor the designer of
this yarn, either.

All next day I lay in my berth—not well
enough to eat, and not quite sick enough to die.
The members of our party were all better sailors
than I, for I don’t believe one of them took sick.
I was just a little sorry, too, that some of the
boys couldn’t experience one of those fulsome
uproars that I felt, if only by way of diversion.
It helped my feelings a little, however, when they
informed me that the dining room had very few
patrons that day.

On August 7th, at Io a. m., after something
like six days on the boat from Seattle, we landed
at Cordova. I stood on deck watching the spec-
tators at the dock, all curiously scrutinizing the
passengers, as we were being pulled up to the
pier. The Home Guards, composed of a score of
stalwart, splendid, manly specimens, stood on
the wharf to salute the Governor.

The man standing next to me touched my
elbow. “Do you see that large man, the third
from the end in the Guards’ line?’’ said _ he.
“Well, that’s Dr. Council, the greatest bear
hunter in Alaska. J’ll introduce you to him
when we debark.”’

And he did, with the result that all our party

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

met the pleasant doctor, who is, from the crown
of his head to the soles of his feet, an athlete and
a model of imperturbability—225 pounds of non-
superfluous avoirdupois and over a six-footer in
height. I afterward remarked to Mr. James
that if I possessed that man’s physique, his nerve
and his undoubted strength, I would turn bear
hunter immediately and follow no other occupa-
tion. At his office he showed us grizzly skins that
he had killed—a short distance from the Copper
River Railroad, ten to one hundred miles from
Cordova. These hides were found in shades run-
ning from almost black to a dark cream, and
were grizzly, notwithstanding the fact that some
people up there called them “‘big brown.” The
grizzly evidence showed everywhere—in the very
long fore-claws (the big browns do: not have as
long fore-claws as the grizzly), in the accent-
uated shoulder hump, in the very small ears and
in the silver-tip hair—with the exception that,
as I now recall it, the lighter shades did not show
this silver-tip effect. However, I have seen
grizzlies in the States of a pure creamy shade in
which the silver-tip characteristic was entirely
lacking. Asked if these were the kind of bears
found in the interior, Dr. Council said he thought
nee were no other than this phase to be found
there.

From Dr. Council’s remarks, and judging by
the skins shown us, and from conversations
with others that we met, both along the coast and

ENROUTE TO THE HUNTING GROUNDS

in the interior, I feel certain that none of the
big brown bears are found in the Upper Copper
River country nor on the White River. That, of
course, would be the natural supposition without
even visiting that section, as these animals, so
far, have only been found on the islands and
coastal strips of that region. However, as I
write, a rumor has come to me of the presence of
big brown bears in the vicinity of the Alaska
range, near Mt. McKinley. All naturalists will
await with interest a verification of this report—
and if it is verified a few of us may entertain a
suspicion that the big browns are hybridizing
with the grizzlies. While black bears inhabit
the country hunted by us and that contiguous
to the Copper River as well, of course we know,
but from evidence noted on this trip I do not be-
lieve they are nearly so numerous as the grizzly.

Asked how many bears he had killed in his
time, Dr. Council said he didn’t know. ‘“How-
ever,” said he, “you can imagine how plentiful
they are around here when I tell you that out of
a certain string of seven trips for them from Cor-
dova I killed a bear the first day on each of six
of these trips; on the seventh I got my bear, but
it took longer than one day.

Before we left Denver I received a letter from
Caleb Corser, superintendent of the Copper
River & Northwestern Railway, advising me
that he would gladly give our party the use of
his private car from Cordova to McCarthy.

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

When I received his kind offer I didn’t compre-
hend the full significance of it, but when we
entered that beautiful little car, with drawing
room, berths, sleeping rooms, containing real
brass beds, kitchen, and a first-class Japanese
cook—and realized that all of this comfort was
ours for the two days’ travel to McCarthy as a
guest of Mr. Corser—well, we immediately called
a meeting and voted him the most popular man
in Alaska, bar none. As we had plenty of room
in our private car, we invited Governor Riggs
and his wife, also Dr. Martin, the government
geologist, to join us as far as Chitina, their rail-
road destination.

As we passed the Miles and Childs glaciers, at
Mile 50, lying on opposite sides of the track a
mile or so apart, we heard thunderous concussion
sounds that might have been mistaken for can-
nonading, but on looking out we saw clouds of
mist arising from the end of the Childs Glacier
where an immense column of ice, probably a
hundred or more feet high, had separated from
the body of the glacier and had gone crashing
into the Copper River, which flows along the foot
of this glacier. This ice field is always moving,
and naturally, as it does so the river continues
undermining its mouth. When the cavern made
by the river gets too deep the ice must fall. This
it is doing ceaselessly, for during our ten-minute
stop there we heard two or three more thunder-
like reports.

ENROUTE TO THE HUNTING GROUNDS

During the day much interesting information
was imparted by our friends regarding Alaska.
The theme was principally along the line of game
and game protection. We all readily agreed that
the present paltry $20,000 annually allowed
Alaska by the government is utterly inade-
quate to cover the expenses of the game wardens
and the warden service. The way I view the
matter is that that territory is the wild-life nest-
ege that is to supply the United States when the
game down here is all killed off, and we should
furnish the money and means to protect it now
when the protecting is easier than it will be in
ten or twenty years from now. Wild game in
large numbers carries a certain momentum or
force that is utterly lost when thinned down.
In other words, due care and watchfulness over
that game now will require not half the effort
that it will in twenty years hence when it becomes
decimated. Not less than $100,000 annually
should be given Alaska for the protection of
her game, and it pleases me greatly to acknowl-
edge the splendid recommendation voiced by
the International Association of Game, Fish
and Conservation Commissioners at its annual
meeting three years ago to the effect that it
favors the appropriation by Congress of $100,000
for game protection in Alaska.

The Copper River & Northwestern Railway
was not built for the accommodation of passen-
gers, but by the Guggenheim interests as an ad-

27]

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

junct to their big mine at Kennecott, 200 miles
up from Cordova. Therefore its roadbed is not
built on a straight-edge plane of smoothness, nor
do its trains maintain a Lightning Express
standard of speed. On the contrary, it juggles
along just like many other mixed freight moun-
tain railroad trains in the States, and if during
the day’s trip (it doesn’t have a night schedule)
it rolls up twelve miles per hour it is keeping up
to about what is expected of it.

As we threaded our tortuous way up the cafion
of the Copper River, our attention was drawn to
a bar or bench which followed the river along the
opposite bank for several miles.

We noticed that it was verdure-clad and that
it bore a fair crop of timber; and yet it was
nothing more nor less than glacial in its formation,
for, except for the upper few feet covering its sur-
face, it was solid ice. We waited a little longer,
and as we traveled parallel with the moraine
(for such it was), we saw a perpendicular cut in
the edge of the bar. All the white formation
below the top or covering edge was pure ice.
That ice extended all along the bench under the
soil, only that it was covered where we first
looked at it; but here the water had washed into
the “bench,” exposing the ice that lay concealed
elsewhere along its path.

An Indian village was passed, being composed
of a few crude huts, some open boats in the river
and a half dozen or more half-naked and very

ENROUTE TO THE HUNTING GROUNDS

unclean women and children. JI presume the
“‘men-folks” were away fishing for salmon, one
of their chief occupations.

One of our party, reading from the Cordova
Daily Herald of August 8th, clipped the following
note and handed it to me:

“Hans Larson, a prospector on the Stewart
River, was severely mauled by a bear recently.
He was bending over a piece of quartz, when the
bear attacked him from behind, tearing his
scalp badly and taking strips from his back an
inch wide and two inches deep in places. He
killed the bear with his rifle, and mushed ten
miles to another camp, where he received surgi-
cal attention. He will recover, altho he is very
weak from loss of blood.”

“A very common occurrence up here,” re-
marked one of the members of our party, when
he had heard the piece read. “The present pro-
tection should be taken from the big brown bear
i Alaska, or at least it should be vitally modi-

ed.”

I believe, considering the formidable build and
more surly disposition of these big plantigrades,
as contrasted with those of the blacks, and even
the grizzlies of the States, that the present law
on them could with justice to all be changed. I
will confess that I never felt this way until I had
hunted in that country, but after talking with
the people of Alaska and hearing of the natural
prejudice up there against these bears, I feel that

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

a revision of the present law would not have a
harmful effect.

There has been an average of nearly one man
a year killed in the North by the big brown and
grizzly bears, and several a year mauled and
maimed, and I believe that the time has come to
act. My feeling for the bears of the States,
where they behave themselves, is different, and
it is that feeling which has caused me to hold off
so long on my pronouncement against the North-
ern bears. I believe we are justified now in re-
moving all protection from the big browns and
grizzlies, with the exception of a $5 or a $10
export license on the hides. In my former
recommendations concerning these animals I
have suggested a compromise by increasing the
bag limit south of 62°, to four, and increasing the
open season one month above the old period.
However, since these expressions were published
I have been confronted with some very vicious
and unprovoked attacks by them on miners and
others, resulting in two deaths and some maul-
ings, and I cannot further restrain my feelings
that they should go their way unprotected. It is
very possible that ere this book is published the
powers that be will have begun on some such
change as I have mentioned. If such a rule is
established it will have my support, and, of
course, the undivided approval of the Alaskans.
Dr. Nelson, chief of the Bureau of Biological
Survey, is in favor of the plan.

ENROUTE TO THE HUNTING GROUNDS

Chitina (population about 100, and lying 132
miles from Cordova) was reached about 6 o’clock
p.m. Here we remained over night. From this
point the automobile stage runs to Fairbanks—a
three days’ trip, and the only means of reaching
Fairbanks from this direction. Malamute and
husky sled dogs were in evidence here, and the
cool mountain air and other signs gave the place
a decidedly Alaskan atmosphere.

I believe it was at the station preceding Chi-
tina on our route that we all had a good opportu-
nity of testing and comparing our binoculars,
while the train was being held up. Mr. Corcoran
had a $200 pair of glasses that we all admired
very much, while Mr. James and William carried
splendid glasses. One of the guides also had
glasses, in addition, of course, to the Alpine bi-
noculars that I carried. We spent an hour there
of very close study of the different makes that
were found in our party, each one of us trying out
all the others. I have always felt very well satis-
fied with my present binoculars, which I have
used for over twelve years, but when I heard the
other members of our party comment on them I
felt better than I ever had before about them.
The general verdict of all was that they were
more satisfactory for game hunting than any
of the others—due to the ease of manipulation
and the clearness and size of the field. I have in
later years used an 8-power glass. I should never
go higher than this in power.

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

Next morning at 9 o'clock, after bidding fare-
well to Governor Riggs, his wife and Dr. Martin
(who were bound for Fairbanks), we departed
by rail for McCarthy—not, however, without
first inviting Mr. Corcoran and his party, also a
Mr. Davy of Denver, to join us in the private
car, thereby filling the places left vacant by the
first-named party.

Aside from crossing a bridge that spanned a
gulch at a height of 238 feet and the sighting of
some goats (that later turned to stone) on the
nearby mountains by Rogers and William, the
trip to McCarthy was without incident. We
arrived there (elevation, 1,440 feet, 250 popula-
tion, and 189 miles from Cordova) at 2:30 p. m.
Cap Hubrick, our guide, was the first to meet us.
It seemed but the work of two or three hours to
get properly quartered at the hotel and look
over and sort out our hunting duffel.

While we were engaged at this very interesting
occupation the various members of the working
end of the “dramatis persone’’—as Bill Shakes-
peare would put it—straggled in. As these men
had much to do with our hunt, and as their
names will frequently occur in the references to
our daily experiences, I shall name them in the
order in which we met them, after first devoting
a paragraph to Cap Hubrick, our outfitter.

Cap is a man of 62; five feet ten inches, 190
pounds, whose history, if accurately recorded,
would contain much of tragedy, drama and pa-

ENROUTE TO THE HUNTING GROUNDS

thos. Colorado, New Mexico, Washington and
other States claimed him as a resident at various
times before he went to the Klondike, twenty
years ago. His life has been lived wholly in the
open, and he shows the splendid effect of this
life in his daily camp and hunting work, from
that of carrying a log to.camp to the agility dis-
played in climbing a mountain. He is one of the
best shots at running game with whom I have
ever hunted. Like many men of the frontier, he
was pretty wild in his day, and on a few occasions
got into serious trouble by loading up on six-
shooters and bad whiskey. However, Cap
is now a muchly-settled-down man, married, and
has the prettiest little home in McCarthy. He
once ran a ferry boat across the Yukon River at
Dawson, which accounts for his universally
known title of “Cap.”

Bill Longley, our head packer, altho tall in
stature, is not long on adulation, nor is he strong
on secret treaties or imbroglios, but believing
that attention to business is the best way to make
the camp “‘safe for democracy,” he wends his
placid way in a manner commendable in a hunt-
ing assistant. I have always found that it is
hard enough to get along in camp with every-
body when everyone tries to do his bit, and this
Bill accomplished without considering the cost
in enduring hardships. Bill is s0 years of
age, but looks 40, and understands the pack-
ing game to perfection. I believe Bill would

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

rather cut off a finger than commit a dishonor-
able act.

Billy Wooden is a twin brother to Bill Longley
in the feature of work. He seemed to be a glut-
ton for exercise and endurance, never waiting
for the next man to wrangle horses, wade cold
streams or travel the wet underbrush. He al-
ways came up with a smile, and never once lost
his temper except when Shorty Gwin crossed
him. Billy is of small stature, about 40 years
old, once ran a roadhouse on the Nizina, and is
thoroly familiar with the life of that country.

Shorty Gwin: Outside of Cap, Shorty was the
greatest character in the party. He also is 62
years old—short, stocky, beardy and brashy—a
man who is at home anywhere in his tracks in
the hills; whose bed under a drooping spruce is as
good to him as one on a box mattress. When he
cast off his old clothes at the end of the trip,
dressed up and shaved, his dog Jimmie would
have nothing to do with him, but hung around
Cap’s house like one who had lost a friend. His
humor is wholesome and natural and his stories
told of evenings were gems of imaginative concep-
tion. “Hell! Where’s my tobacco?” from Shorty
always meant that a good story was coming up.

Jimmie Brown, the fourth member of the
packing force, like Shorty, hadn’t very esthetic
tastes regarding his bed and board while in the
hills. As a matter of fact, these men cannot be
too particular about anything while on the trail,

ENROUTE TO THE HUNTING GROUNDS

as experience has taught them that “readiness
to serve’ double discounts good clothes and
fancy grub while in the open. Jimmy could sleep
on less and live on less food while on a “‘siwash”
trip than anyone I have ever met. He is a
small man, aiuae 40, wiry, quick and unobtru-
sive. Like Billy Wooden, he is a wonderful
climber—a human camel in traveling long dis-
tances without food or water. For years he has
employed his time at freighting between Mc-
Carthy and the Shushanna mining district. In
winter he uses dog sleds in this work, and could
tell many a harrowing tale of hardshin, death
and privation while traveling on the glaciers
over this route.

Next comes our little Jap, Jimmie Fujii, who
acted as cook. While a typical Japanese in man-
ner and disposition, yet he has absorbed much
of American and Alaskan ways during the
twenty-odd years that he has been a “rolling
stone” in this country. First marrying in Japan,
he has had two matrimonial ventures in America
with white girls, but has given up all future ideas
of repeating the offense over here. He is now
treading the path of single blessedness again, and,
being a free man, travels when and where he
pleases, following the avocation of cook. Heisa
high school graduate, and aside from being a
splendid cook is a great student of international
social problems. His morning call—usually issued
at 5:30 a. m.—“Ho-oh! Break-fawst!’—still

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

rings in my ears, and while it was not always
a pleasant reminder, yet our later contact with
the hot cakes and other fixin’s took all the early
chill away. 7

That pent-up anxiety to get away, which had
been fermenting in our systems for days, finally
found escapement the next afternoon at 2:30,
when the packers announced that they were
“organized” and ready to start. It seemed that
half of McCarthy’s 250 souls were congregated
around the vacant space, where the horses were
packed, to see us depart. The sixteen packs
were loaded with about 200 pounds each, or
3,200 pounds total. After crossing the little
stream in McCarthy’s back yard we were soon
strung out along the roadway on the hillside that
overlooks the town. Soon the little village was
lost to view, and automatically the wilderness
opened its arms to receive us, holding us fast for
the next thirty-nine days. Four miles along a
good wagon thorofare led us to the brink of Sour-
dough Hill; then five miles over a squashy road
landed us at Shorty Gwin’s cabin on the Nizina
River, our abode for the night. Here we said
good-bye to the wagon road, thenceforward de-
pending on trails and no-trails, water, ice and
river bars for our travel. The sun at this time
was warm, the air mellow, and, aside from a
slight variation in the foliage, we would hardly
have known that we were not traveling along an

old New Brunswick tote road. The first “‘dif-
36

ENROUTE TO THE HUNTING GROUNDS

ferent” sign that we noted was the presence of
the fireweed, a flower that grows a foot or two
high, of pinkish color, which is seen at this season
in such bounteous profusion that it actually
paints the meadows and hillsides. Single gardens
of this flower covered spaces dozens of acres in
extent, causing the terrene at a distance to
appear as a solid mass of pink.

The timber of the country visited by us in-
cludes Sitka spruce (a tree that I mistook for fir,
owing to the needles being soft-pointed), balm of
gilead (found in abundance), birch, alder, willow
and quaking aspen (the latter very rarely seen).
Among the wild berries found thereabouts were:
High-bush cranberries, low bush cranberries,
black and red currants, blueberries (very plen-
tiful), salmon berries (in abundance along the
coast), raspberries, wolf berries and, of course,
roseberries.

We awoke the following morning to find our
horses missing. Billy and Jimmie went in search
of them, finding that they had traveled ten miles
up the Nizina, attracted by the pea-vine, a low-
growing, palatable and very fattening plant that
grows over most of the river bars of that section.
It was therefore 2:30 that afternoon before we
got started.

As Shorty is known there as the wizard of the
Nizina River, he led the way across it, a treacher-
ous quicksand stream flowing at this time in
some twelve or more channels. (When we re-

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

turned a month later this water had concentrated
into about three channels. It is always chang-
ing.) Shorty dwelt long and often upon the
great requisite of being able to “read’’ water.
He has lived on the Nizina so long and has wit-
nessed and been a participant in so many acci-
dents on this stream that he is recognized as the
most capable man on that river to lead a pack
outfit across it.

We had no difficulty in making a successful
ford, and after following it for six or seven miles
we decided to camp at the Spruce Point Cabin,
an old deserted shack, at one time occupied and
run by Billy Wooden as a roadhouse. Our de-
cision to camp here, and not at the mouth of the
Chittistone (as originally planned), was greatly
encouraged by a downpour of rain which came
on us as we were approaching the cabin, and
which kept up all night, but in lessened volume.
We traveled eight miles during the afternoon,
over a boggy trail in some places, and over the
bar of the river in others.

While traveling up the Nizina during the day
Bill Longley pointed to a white speck, barely
discernible on a rough mountain a couple miles
off to our right. ““That’s a tent I took up there
a year ago for a prospector,” said he. ‘But it’s
never been used, as the ‘color’ petered out.’
When asked why it was never taken down and
used, Bill said it wasn’t worth the expense of go-
ing for it. And when men’s wages and horses’

ENROUTE TO THE HUNTING GROUNDS

hire are considered, it doesn’t take a lightning
calculator to figure out how very correct his
statement is. As an illustration of this condition
in that country: A fine, large cooking range that
would command $25 or $30 in town, even at
second-hand prices, lies unclaimed in the cabin
where we spent that night (only about seventeen
miles from McCarthy), for the simple reason
that it isn’t worth the trouble and work of pack-
ing it in.

Half concealed in the timber at the side of the
trail up the Nizina stood an old deserted cabin
(as all cabins are in this country). Some one
pointed it out to us as the roadhouse that was
run by B. S. Kelly during the Shushanna gold
rush in 1913. It is said of him that while running
this roadhouse he found himself on his “last
legs” financially. When a man called to get a
meal, Kelly would ask him if he had a frying pan
in his outfit. Of course every prospector travel-
ing thru at that time had a frying pan. The
next question asked was, “Have you some
grease?” This was another acquisition usually
found in the prospector’s pack. Kelly would
then place the skillet on the fire and tell the
prospector to go out and kill a rabbit, remarking
that that would do for his dinner—for which a
charge of $1.50 was made.

That night some long-distance world’s records
were broken in the gabfest that followed after
supper, and if the shades of all the departed

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

moose, sheep, goats, caribou, bears and men
(records of whose slaughter were told most
vividly) did not appear to us in our sleep that
night as a protest, then it was because they had
been killed so dead that there was no chance of
their ever returning to earth again in any form.
Up to that time I had always considered Harry
a pretty good single-handed talker, but he was
entirely outclassed by Cap and Shorty in their
recitations of old-time Alaska experiences. These
two sourdoughs battled in the oratorical arena
for hours, and at the conclusion of the contest,
which outrivaled in gameness and ferocity the
gladiator encounters of old, the bout was de-
clared a draw.

Next day it continued raining, so the contest
was resumed, lasting all that day and far into
the night. Shorty told of once capturing a goat
alive in Alaska, and said they were so tame and
plentiful that it would be no trick at all to repeat
the performance on this trip. Cap said he had
seen the rabbits so thick in that country that
they ate off all the vegetation—in fact, these
rabbits were so numerous that finally they had
no feed whatever, so they ate themselves. Billy
Wooden told of killing an ibex in Alaska, describ-
ing it as a counterpart of the goat except that
the front feet were large and the horns were
twisted, containing ridges that ran in spiral fash-
ion around the horn, as in some of the European
species.

ENROUTE TO THE HUNTING GROUNDS

I was curiously interested in the ibex story,
especially as I had heard from other sources of
these animals having existed there. One man
who vouches for their presence at one time in
Alaska is ex-Representative James Wickersham,
of Fairbanks, with whom I conversed on the
subject.

However, Judge Wickersham, I believe, re-
ceived his impressions more from what he read
in Gen. T. A. Allen’s book, ““Government Report
on the Copper River (Alaska) Exploring Expedi-
tion of 1886,” than from any personal experience
that he has had with the supposed animals. I
have a copy of General Allen’s book, and publish
herewith an extract from it covering the subject,
as follows:

“Whether the big-horn mountain sheep, ovis
canadensis, exists in Alaska I am unable to say,
but I desire to add also a new geographical race
of the same. The animal in question is called by
the natives tebay, and this name I leave un-
changed until a specimen will have been carried
out of the territory. We killed several of these
animals, one of which, a ram, had horns twenty
inches long and nearly straight. Their structure
was similar to that of the bighorn, but the curva-
ture was very slight. This ram was killed on a
very high point, such a place as is usually sought
by them, and in its fall was sadly mangled. The
head of the tebay is much like that of a South-
down sheep, the muzzle much less pointed than

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

in Nelson’s big-horn. The hair is of a uniform
white—in fact, nearly equal to his snow surround-
ings in color, and is nearly as easily broken as
that of the antelope. Next to the skin 1s a very
fine, short wool, which is very strong. In size the
tebay is probably an equal of its relative, the big-
horn. I saw a spoon made from the horn of one
that measured twenty-six inches in length and
five inches across the bowl. We were informed
that some had much larger horns than the one
that furnished material for this spoon. This,
like most statements of natives, is questionable.
The large ram and one other were killed on the
most northerly tributary of the Chittistone
River. The natives informed us that small tebay
could be killed a few miles below the junction of
the Chittistone, a fact we doubted, and hence
chose to allow them the use of our carbines.
They passed the night on the mountains north of
the Chitina River, and returned with four small
ones that would weigh when dressed probably
sixty-five pounds. The heads were left on the
mountains, but the bodies brought in seemed
identical with those obtained on the Chittistone
River. Why only small ones should be found at
this place in the latter part of April I cannot say;
yet the mountains here were not so high as far-
ther to the east, where the large ones had been
killed. The last of these animals seen or heard of
by us were near the headwaters of Copper River,
on the divide between it and the Tanana River.”

ENROUTE TO THE HUNTING GROUNDS

At this late day, of course it seems odd to read
of a doubt cast at the habitat of the ovis cana-
densis, as shown herein by General Allen, but
when one reflects that his book was written about
thirty-five years ago, it is not amazing. It is
amusing to note the two very distinct animals
described respectively by Billy Wooden and Gen-
eral Allen. Billy Wooden’s animal of mystery
was distinctly a goat, except for the horn and
front hoof formation, while General Allen’s was
asheep. There could, of course, be no connection
between the two forms, according to the descrip-
tions given. Naturally, when we hear of such
reports, the first thing that enters our mind is
that no hunter has ever been able to secure and
preserve one of the skins, and secondly, that none
of these specimens has ever reached any of the
many natural history institutes of our country
that would be so very anxious to secure them at
a substantial cost. I believe I can solve the Allen
myth by suggesting that it might be a young
“mountain sheep ram or an old female, with
slightly curved horns. But Billy Wooden’s ibex
has simply got my “goat,” for I cannot fathom
it. Rumors of ibexes having been seen in the
States are very old. Other unnatural forms of
wild life have also been reported, but when run
down they have usually turned out to be about
as authentic as the stories of the philaloo bird
and the side-hill gouger.

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Cra E

Livy

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ny

Pulaaty 2.
Hy

Second (hapter

IN THE
GOAT AND GLACIER FIELDS

THE PARSON’S SON

I’m one of the Arctic brotherhood, I’m an old-time pioneer.

I came with the first—O God! how I’ve cursed this Yukon—but still
I’m here.

I’ve sweated athirst in its summer heat, I’ve frozen and starved in
its cold;

I’ve followed my dreams by its thousand streams, I’ve toiled and
moiled for its gold.

Look at my eyes—been snow-blind twice ; look where my foot’s half
gone ;

And that gruesome scar on my left cheek, where the frost-fiend bit to
the bone.

Each one a brand of this devil’s land, where I’ve played and I’ve lost
the game,

A broken wreck with a craze for “ hooch,” and never a cent to my name.

—Robert Service.

SECOND CHAPTER
INTHE. GOAE AND (GLACIER) BIEEDS

‘TH E following morning we started at 10:30

in a drizzle, which later cleared. We were
especially fortunate that clear skies welcomed
us on the latter part of the day’s ride, as some
beautiful scenery opened up, including water-
falls, gorgeous hills, and sublime snowcapped
summits. The grandeur almost repaid for the
near-dousing we received that day while cross-
ing back over the Nizina. It seems the packs
were in some unaccountable way divided (some-
thing which should be avoided, if possible);
at any rate, we saw Shorty, Wooden and others
with a contingent of packs crossing below us,
and the manner in which the riders leaned down-
stream told, if the submerged packs had not,
that they were in dangerous water. Bill Longley,
Harry and others (including myself) were in the
string that crossed above, and for a moment it
looked as if we should encounter swimming
water, as it foamed up to the middle of the
horses’ bodies, wetting the packs and ourselves
as well. Swimming water in that surging torrent
hardly conveys a true meaning of the term to

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

one accustomed only to moderate running water.
Besides, it is ice cold, coming from the glacier
but a few miles away, and to even get soaked in
it, with nothing worse, might mean a bad case of
rheumatism; while if one’s horse should roll in
this water there would be an excellent chance of
a funeral at the opposite shore. The boys who
knew more about glacial streams than we advised
us, should our horse roll, to jump downstream,
rather than up, as by doing so we would fall
clear of our horse, and being lighter would float
or swim out of its reach; whereas, by jumping
upstream we would run the risk of being sucked
under the horse. A man was killed on the Nizina
in this way a year before, his head being crushed
by one of the horse’s feet. In crossing these
streams (for there were others as bad as the
Nizina, including the Frederika and White), we
always leaned downstream, which served to
brace the horse by throwing his feet upstream—
the very opposite effect of leaning upstream and
forcing the feet down. This is a knack I had
learned while swimming our horses across the
Shoshone River in Wyoming many years ago
while bear hunting with Ned Frost, and I’ve
never forgotten it. At first it sounds almost un-
reasonable, as, if we were fording such a stream
on foot we would lean up, but on horseback the
conditions are reversed.
Many brave men lose their lives in this wild
country every year from a variety of causes.

IN THE GOAT AND GLACIER FIELDS

Most of them become so hardened to the weather
and privations that they can endure almost un-
believable trials on the trail. We were told of
one man and his dog team who, a few years ago,
subsisted for ten days on rabbits alone, while
camped in a tent on Nizina Glacier. Freighters,
prospectors and others frequently get caught on
the glaciers in mid-winter in a blizzard and are
compelled to camp until it is over, as in that in-
tense winter climate, with a twenty-five or
thirty mile wind blowing, there is no human that
could withstand the cold, piercing wind while
traveling.

Dozens of graves in sequestered spots dot the
banks of these streams, mute testimony to the
severity of the Alaska winters. Seldom more
than a very few people know where these men
are buried, as, when found, whether dead or
dying, there is usually but few in the discovering
party (more often but one) and very likely it is
necessary to make haste with the obsequies in
order to save their own lives; so the body is laid
to rest usually in a fern-clad or pine-decorated
spot, with a blaze on a near-by tree on which
pencil or pen marks (soon, of course, obliterated)
are placed, telling the man’s name, if known, and
the date of the burial. As most of these graves
are off the trail (which changes almost yearly in
most cases) it may easily be understood how few
of them are known to the average passer-by.
We passed one such grave, that of Captain Tay-

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

lor, who was frozen to death while necking a
hand sleigh across Nizina Glacier in February,
I9I4.

Cap related the tragic death of a musher three
years ago: ““T'wo-Much” Johnson and Fred
Youngs were freighters between McCarthy and
Shushanna, the gold camp. Returning to Mc-
Carthy with their big Yukon River sled pulled
by sixteen dogs, they came to the Shushanna
Glacier. This ice field was a very dangerous one
to cross in the spring owing to its great number
of crevasses. When covered with snow a foot or
two deep a man has to be very careful. The
snow bridges over the crevasses and makes some
of the narrow ones hard to see. The men had
stopped their sled to go ahead and “sound” out
the snow-covered crevasses with alpenstocks,
when the dogs began fighting. A dog fight out of
the harness is ordinarily a very much mixed-up
affair, but when these fighting “‘wolves” of the
North tangle up in a tooth battle with the har-
ness on, the mix-up is about as hard to straighten
out as a string puzzle. Finally after they got
cleared, they were started; but, wrought up by
their late fighting, the dogs were very nervous
and erratic, and at one point tried to jump over
a crevasse before their masters were ready for
them. These crevasses in many places had to be
bridged over by the men chopping off the ice of
the sides with picks until the crack filled, thereby
making a safe trail over the opening. However,

5°

IN THE GOAT AND GLACIER FIELDS

in this case, the dogs broke away and ran head-
long into the crevasse. Only the first eight of
the sixteen fell in, but their weight on the har-
ness was too much and it broke, letting them
down. “Too-Much” Johnson, in trying to get
the dogs straightened out, fell in also. Some of
these cracks are hundreds of feet deep and
Youngs felt something must be done quickly if
his partner was to be saved. So he hurried to
the relief camp (a camp the freighters maintain
on or near these glaciers where men and means
are kept to render assistance in such cases).
Returning with men, axes, picks, ropes and every
appurtenance necessary, they began the search
for Johnson. They worked along this crevasse
and down it (by lowering men with ropes) all
that day and during the whole night—using
“bugs,” or electric lights—but no trace of the
man could be found. When dawn broke they
detected a dark object a half mile away climbing
over the top of the crevasse. They ran up and
found it was Johnson, who barely had strength
to drag himself over the top, where he lay ex-
hausted. They found both hands and part of his
face frozen and the fingers worn almost to stubbs
in trying to climb up over the icy sides. They
wrapped him up carefully, laid him on the sled
and started for McCarthy, but before they
reached the town he expired—thereby offering
up another life—the supreme toll—to the fas-
cinating but uncertain life of the frozen North.

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

During the winter of 1919-20 Jimmy Brown
(our indomitable little guide and glacier trail
blazer) and Dan Campbell experienced a dis-
tressful misfortune while dog-sledding in that
country. The first report that I received of it
came from Cap Hubrick, our outfitter, in the
following letter:

“McCarthy, Alaska, Jan. 29, 1920
ee McClelland and Bill Maher (Shushana

mail carriers) came in today with dog teams,
bringing in Jimmie Brown and Dan Campbell
in a badly frozen condition. Brownie and Camp-
bell left the head of the White River early this
month for McCarthy with a seven-dog team and
got along all right until they undertook to cross
the Nizina Glacier in a fierce blizzard (which was
very foolish of them). When they reached a
point about two miles from McLeod’s (where we
camped when you were hunting with us), they
got into a deep ice ravine and followed this down
the glacier until it became so steep on either side
that they could not get out, and the dogs refused
to go back against the strong wind. It got dark
on them and the only thing they could do was to
get into their sleeping bags to keep from freezing.

“During the night they began to realize that
they were slowly but surely freezing to death, so
they began to fight for life, and when it became
light enough to see to travel they made a start.
The dogs had all perished except one, and he

IN THE GOAT AND GLACIER FIELDS

would not leave his dead companions. They
were compelled to abandon everything; could not
even take their snowshoes. The wind was blow-
ing so hard that it was impossible to stand up on
the ice where the snow had blown away. All
they did take was their camp axe. That day
they reached the homestead cabin in the timber
a short way below the glacier, and here they lay
for sixteen days without food or blankets,
Brownie being utterly helpless and Campbell
creeping around on hands and knees getting fuel
to keep from freezing. Yesterday McClelland
and Maher found them in this condition and
brought them to town today. Brownie will lose
part of one foot and some fingers. The flesh is
dropping from his hands now. His face and
neck are black and an awful sight. Campbell
will lose part of both feet. They will be crippled
for life, and the awful suffering they will go thru
for some time to come will be heart-rending.”

Two months later, when “Brownie” had re-
covered sufficiently to dictate a letter, he wrote
me as follows:

“Dan Campbell and I left Shushana (a mining
camp about too miles from McCarthy) Jan-
uary 2nd with a seven-dog team, and made
fairly good progress until we reached White
River. Here we were storm-bound for three
days, when we made a trip onto the Russell
Glacier, but were compelled to return to timber

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

on account of the severe storms. The following
day we made another attempt, and after we were
out on the glacier about four miles we were com-
pelled to drop one of our dog sleighs, and by
sheer doggedness we managed to reach the relief
cabin at the head of the Russell Glacier late at
night. The next day we went back after the
other sled and the weather seemed to have mod-
erated a little, but turned bitter cold towards
evening.

“The next day we made another start for the
Frederika relief cabin, which is located in the
willows just south of the creek where the trail
crosses the Frederika stream. Between the
Skolai Basin and this cabin we barely averted
disaster in crossing one of the deep cuts. We
started a snowslide, above which we happened
to be, but if we had been on it or below it IJ am
sure our troubles would have ended then and
there. Nothing could have lived in this slide.
But we reached the cabin without any further
adventures and slept like only those who have
had plenty of outdoor exercise can sleep.

“It was storming hard the following morning,
but as the wind was to our backs and being shel-
tered by the mountains on either side, we con-
cluded to make a start and go as far as was
possible so long as we had timber to camp in at
night. We followed the cafion and it was mighty
hard going all the way—snow drifted badly in

IN THE GOAT AND GLACIER FIELDS

places and lots of open water, often breaking
thru the thin ice, which made progress slow.
“About 2 o’clock we reached Skolai Lake at
the Nizina Glacier. Here we struck very hard
going, the snow being quite deep and soft. Still
we thought we could make it across to timber.
After some time of wallowing in the snow we
began to realize that we were up against the real
thing, but it was too late to turn back. We
were now getting the winds from the Nizina and
Skolai so hard that they could not be faced.
Our only salvation was to keep going. We had
to get off the lake and onto the glacier and go
quartering across so as to keep out of the worst
of the crevasses; yet we encountered a number
of them and passed thru the worst places when
darkness overtook us and this, of course, stopped
further progress for the day. We judged the
wind was blowing about seventy miles per hour.
By setting up our snowshoes against the back of
the sled and bringing a tarp around them, we
had some sort of a wind-break; then we took one
robe and spread this on the ice to sit on and drew
another robe over us. In this way we spent a
very unpleasant night. No matter how we
tucked and fixed the covering robe the snow
would drift in, and then our bodies would melt
it, and in this way we got wet, and when it be-
came light enough to see to travel we made a
start for timber, which was about two miles dis- .

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

tant, leaving everything. Being compelled to
face the wind in order to get back up on the
higher ice and out of the crevasses, the dogs
would not follow.

“Our clothes, moccasions and mittens were
wet. We had no more than got out of our robes
before our clothing was frozen stiff. My parka
bulged out in front and froze as hard as a board.
Every time I took a step my foot would hit the
bottom; then the top would hit me in the face;
this cut like a knife, until my face looked like a
butcher’s block. Campbell thought I was bleed-
ing at the lungs and really was worried about
me. Of course, he told me this later.

“Where the snow had blown off it made it im-
possible to stand up. Often we had to crawl or
roll along these places. We at last reached the
old barn beside the glacier (at McLeod’s), where
we got a fire started, but it was impossible to
thaw out here. The wind was blowing so hard
we had to beat it down to the old cabin called
the Homestead, distance about four miles. I
knew that my hands and feet were frozen and
that Campbell’s feet were also frozen, but it was
no use to idle along. There was but one thing to
do, and that was to get to the cabin and start a
fire and save as much as possible of our hands
and feet. We had left our snowshoes, and this
made it harder for us, as the snow was about
three feet deep, and I judge it took us at least
two hours to make this four miles.

IN THE GOAT AND GLACIER FIELDS

“On reaching the cabin I was helpless, both
hands badly frozen, so I could not even help
start a fire. Campbell was more fortunate, he
having two good hands, but his feet were very
bad, and by hobbling around he managed to
start a fire and then we began to take stock of
ourselves and also of the contents of the cabin.

“Here I wish to say that we can thank Joe
McClelland and Bill Maher that we are alive to-
day, by having the cabin in a fairly warm con-
dition, and wood enough to do us over night;
there was also some flour, rice and dog feed here.
The thermometer registered 60 below zero and
the winds howled on the glaciers. We did not
know how long it would be before we might be
rescued by some one coming along.

“Sixteen days of watchful waiting we spent in
this cabin, looking for Joe and Bill, who were
carrying the mail, but they likewise had en-
countered severe storms and were delayed.
They arrived about 2:30 in the afternoon and
were pretty tired. Of course they did everything
they could to make us comfortable, and the fol-
lowing day they went back after our outfit.
They found one dog alive and three frozen to
death. The other three had disappeared. No
doubt they tried to go back to Shushana. Since
then one of the three has showed up at Solo
Creek; the other two, no doubt, have died.

“The next day we started for McCarthy and
here we are. I expect to be able to get around

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

by the time the hunting season opens, but will
not be able to walk enough to do any guiding in
the hills, but if I can get a party to take out I
will do the wrangling and help around the camp
and do all I can. By next year I expect to be
able to go some. If my horses live thru the win-
ter I will be pretty lucky. All the other horses
in that country have died this winter.

BROWNIE.”

Five o’clock of the evening of August 13th
saw us in camp at the scene of the old McCloud
Road House (the same stopping place that
“Brownie” refers to in his letter), after traveling
sixteen miles from Spruce Point. The road
house was hardly fit for occupancy, so we put
up the tents—their initial appearance in service
on Alaska soil.

Next morning we were up at 5 for our first big
game hunting—goats—and at 7:20 all departed
for Rhinoceros Peak (also called Finger Moun-
tain), via Nizina and Regal glaciers. We
covered six miles on horseback going to our
hunting country, all on these glaciers.

Never have I witnessed a more beautiful sight
than that which greeted us as we filed along on
the surface of the white ice that clear morning.
The clouds had not all lifted from the highest
peaks, whose dark promontories stood half-
sheathed in their filmy gowns of billowy mist.
Finger Mountain was thrice-attractive because

Sulusoud sty SuIUNY-3eOS BUIOD) “PUIZINY a4y3—JD1NRIS B UO BulfaAes JO uOIssaiduul ysIY INC

IN THE GOAT AND GLACIER FIELDS

only his black-pointed crest was visible, like a
floating buoy, above the feathery sea of encir-
cling clouds.

As this was our first glacier travel we felt very
much that timidity one would experience in
walking on eggs, fearing our horses might slip on
the treacherous ice, which was interwoven with
crevasses and pot-holes, ridges and _ gullies.
Solid terra firma we had all found dangerous
enough at times, but this glacier traveling the
first hour of that first day was the most ticklish
thing we had experienced in many moons.
After that we took it with steadier assurance,
and didn’t feel thrilly any more. As every horse
in the outfit had been sharp-shod at McCarthy
before leaving, we finally settled down to a regu-
lar sourdough form of contentment and took
every’slip, slide and skate as a matter of course,
trying to think of these hair-breadth escapes .
from instant death (as they sometimes appeared
to us) as the ordinary events of a hunting trip in
the Far North.

Just the same, if any of my readers believes
that an Alaska glacier is anything resembling a
boulevard or skating rink in smoothness you
should be disillusioned; for there are moun-
_ tains, peaks, valleys and cafions on the glacier—
all on a small scale, it is true, but they are there
in as varied projection and dejection as in a
range of the rockiest mountains. The glacier
surface is serrated with little streamlets; cracks

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

and crevasses, the former running from an inch
in width to from five to ten feet—crevasses the
same. Some pot holes and crevasses extend
down thru the ice hundreds of feet. The horses
used on the glacier trail are as proficient at this
work as are the range riding horses in the roping
game. They have all had their falls on the ice,
their slips, slides and rolls, and they know as well
as a man does what places are dangerous.

While crossing a stream in the glacier this day
one of our horses slipped and fell, landing be-
tween two ice ridges in the bottom of a “‘draw”
almost on his back. By chopping away the ice
on each side of the crack he was able to rise.
While taking a short rest after this experience,
the beauty of the scene before us was reflected
again thru mention of it by Harry, who pro-
nounced it a real memory-jewel. On account of
the unusual lighting effect produced by the clear-
ing of the storm, I doubt if many other travelers
crossing this glacier will ever again be treated to
just such a kaleidoscopic display of colors as we
witnessed. Many shades each of green, blue and
purple appeared in each crevasse and pot-hole.
In the perspective, extending for miles, was seen
the green-white expanses of mountain and plain
in miniature, the sun’s rays dancing on the shim-
mering corrugations and casting shadows inter-
mittently on the glass-like iridescence.

In the background, like a sentinel guarding
the wave of ice, stood the bold summit (Finger

IN THE GOAT AND GLACIER FIELDS

Mountain) on which we were to hunt the oream-
nos montanus today. As we approached this
mountain, various “‘goats” were pointed out by
different members of our party. Usually, on
closer inspection, they turned out to be either
white rocks or patches of snow. One party per-
sisted in his belief that if a certain object was
not a live goat it certainly was a dead one.
Rocks turned into goats with the rapidity of
lightning. There was hardly a man who hadn’t
some pet snow spot or rock that he tried to bring
to life with the glasses.

Cap and others picked out some goats on one
of the higher mesas, and these proved to be the
only goats seen from the glacier. Finally we
approached the “shore-line,” climbed onto solid
earth, left the horses on a good feeding ground in
charge of Jimmie Brown, and began the ascent
of the mountain. William James, Rogers, Bill
Longley and Billy Wooden bore to the right,
while Harry, Cap and I took to the left. After
ascending 1,000 feet, we heard some ten or twelve
shots, and looking down, saw William pointing
toward the mountain. We feared, however, that
he hadn’t scored. Soon afterward we saw a band
of seventeen goats stringing away to the west-
ward, some hundreds of feet above us, presum-
ably frightened by William’s shooting.

We climbed higher, ate lunch, and then mov-
ing still higher counted thirty-three goats strung
out on the trail to the rear of and following the

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

seventeen that had just passed. They were
about a mile away and separated from us by a
couple of divides. Later we walked out to the
rim of the precipice that dropped below and saw
William a short distance down the hill. He said
he connected with his goat, all right, but that it
hadn’t yet shed its hair, and issued a warning
that the other boys had advised us not to shoot
any more as the goats weren’t yet “clean.”
This puzzled us greatly, and especially Cap, who
said that goats always shed in June. Notwith-
standing William’s advice, we started again to
climb up, hoping to get a close-up look at some
others—possibly those that we had seen from the
glacier. My limbs began to cramp so badly that
I decided to remain back. Half an hour after
Harry, William and Cap had disappeared over
the rim above I heard rifle shots in their direc-
tion. Jumping to my feet, unable to overcome
the hunting curiosity that sometimes seizes us,
I clambered to the top toward them.

Glancing to the westward I counted twenty
goats moving away—trailing up a hill at a dis-
tance of half a mile, like silent marching soldier
specters. They seemed not the least excited,
but determined and imperturbable. To me
there is something patriarchal in the appearance
of a goat, and as they lined out on that trail they
formed a picture solemn and reverential.

I believe in one of the above paragraphs I men-
tioned rifle shots. I imagine the reader wi!] begin

IN THE GOAT AND GLACIER FIELDS

to think it is time something was doing in the
firing line, after the long wait for active hos-
tilities. He will also want to know what kind of
shooting irons each member of the party carried,
and before any blood is spilt I believe 'd better
give out this information: Harry James carried
one .35 Remington auto and one .30 U. S. Win-
chester; William James had a duplicate of his
father’s order; Rogers carried a .303 Savage;
Hubrick a .250-3000 Savage, while I took two
guns of the .30 U. S. Winchester make, one bored
for the ’03 shell and the other for the ’06. One
of the guides had a .35 Winchester, while another
toted a gun the make and caliber of which I have
forgotten.

On reaching the “bench” above, a quick sur-
vey disclosed four white spots lying in various
positions of disorder 200 or 300 yards ahead of
me, and kneeling at one of these and in the act
of evisceration were seen Harry and Hubrick.
William was running wild-eyed in search of a
crippled lamb. About all I could hear from him
in passing me was an uncomplimentary remark
concerning some one. I afterward learned that
his reference was to Hubrick, who had fired at
the goats before giving Harry a first chance. In
this he committed a grievous mistake, as James
was naturally entitled to not only the first shot,
but to all if he wanted them.

While my talk with Harry drew out no com-
plaint with regard to the manner in which the

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

battle started or terminated, yet I drew from his
manner that it was not staged exactly according
to Marquis of Queensbury rules. He told me
that of the four goats stretched out before us,
Cap had killed three and he one out of a band of
twenty-four; furthermore, that Cap had opened
fire on them first at a distance of sixty yards,
killing a nanny, a 3-year-old and a kid; Harry
killed a nanny as she scrambled over the green
sward in her effort to get away.

As we needed another lamb, and as a small
band comprising a lamb was at that time hover-
ing around the precipices 500 feet above and
half a mile away, I decided to try for it while my
companions finished the dressing of those already
killed. On my way up I noticed a lone goat in
the ledges above the others that I was stalking,
he having been seen by me in the same position
an hour or two before. Evidently he was an old
billie, as he acted different in remaining alone
than I thought a nanny would. My path in
stalking the group containing the lamb led me
straight toward the billie, who was higher than
they and 400 yards farther away. I didn’t use
the glasses on him, and he was so far away that I
couldn’t tell the sex. While sneaking on the
small band (which were nervously running back
and forth, but hidden at times from my sight
by a shoulder of the mountain), I had not
thought seriously of trying for him, yet when
later the little bunch disappeared, as per gun

IN THE GOAT AND GLACIER FIELDS

signal from Harry, who with Cap stood below
watching the proceedings, I decided I would
make a try for the old goat’s hide. It was im-
possible to keep out of sight of him, and just
about as difficult to travel in any but a straight
line toward him. Therefore I had small hopes
of his ever standing for me until within range.
The climbing was very steep, necessitating fre-
quent rests, yet that old mountaineer stood still,
apparently eyeing me with but little concern.
It was a novelty in game hunting to see an
animal act this way. I imagine that there is
something to the statement made later by one
of the guides that when they are above you and
in the cliffs as this one was, they feel more secure.
Certainly if he had been a hundred miles above
me he couldn’t have acted more contented.
Finally after many waits to rest I reached a
point beyond which I feared to go, and which I
thought was about 400 yards from him. Harry,
always complimentary in his remarks, was good
enough to say it was 500 yards. I knelt down
and took aim, noting that the front sight more
than covered him. When I fired I noticed the
spatter of the bullet on the ledge a foot or two
above and that it threw rock splinters all around
him. He started to run to the right, then came
back the other way, and finally stood for the
second shot. As soon as I fired, I knew I hit him,
as there was no sound in the rocks and no shower
of them as before. He walked a few steps and
65

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

laid down, then collapsed and rolled off the ledge,
bounding over several precipices in his drop.
- I shouted so Harry and Cap would know, but
this was unnecessary as they had watched the
whole stalk from start to finish and gave back a
welcoming cheer. I couldn’t see him after he
landed, as he lay in a gulch hidden by sharp
projections, but I knew he was too far away and
too hard to reach for me to go and disembowel
him. Cap had warned us before that, in order
to get safely across the glacier by dark, it would
be necessary to descend the mountain and reach
the horses by 4 o’clock—and it was now past 4.

We reached the horses just before 6, having
joined another contingent of our party on the
way down the mountain. Rogers was very weak,
having gone without lunch. We had warned
him that he would need it on such a hard climb,
but with an indifferent, “Oh, I never eat lunch
in the hills,” he sauntered away without the
mid-day snack. But we all noticed that our
taxidermist not only always carried a lunch after
that, but that he ravenously devoured it as well.
After joining the rest of our party we learned that
Billy Wooden had also killed a goat, presum-
ably a billy, which was dropped in a very in-
accessible gulch too precipitous to negotiate that
day owing to the lateness of the hour. We
reached camp at 8:30 p. m., after being two and
a half hours on the ice field.

It wasn’t a very difficult matter, for those of

IN THE GOAT AND GLACIER FIELDS

us who could, to rest in camp the following day
while Longley, Wooden and Rogers went after
the five goat hides and meat. They started ina
drizzle which later cleared a little, but the slow
rain was intermittent until nightfall. During
the day Charlie Baxter (the White Horse guide)
came thru with Mr. Corcoran. The outfit
stopped long enough for us to exchange greet-
ings. Having met all the members of the party
before, it was very pleasant to have their trail
in the hills cross ours.

This idle day in camp gave William and me
an opportunity to enjoy a very pleasant diver-
sion from the camp routine—that of giving
Jimmy, our cook, orders on baking a birthday
cake for Harry. William had “‘soft-pedaled’”’
some of us the information while at McCarthy
that his father would pass his soth milestone in
camp, and, in order that his half-century mark
might not go by forgotten we collected some can-
dles in McCarthy. These we brought forth and
handed to our Japanese boy with the admonition
that he must be prepared to bake the camp cake
of his life. We appropriated the mess-tent for
our collusion, and barred all from entrance
during the day. When night fell we had a cake
fit for the gods, with beautiful white frosting
and two colors of gingerbread trimming. We
had a big feed that night, and were in the middle
of it when the boys, rain-soaked and cold, came
in with the skins and meat. Harry was com-

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

pletely surprised when Jimmy produced the
cake, as he had no idea of such a thing being
sprung on him. A few impromptu presents were
produced, one being a hunting knife, and one
from William, being a promise that he’d try to
emulate his father’s good example in everything.
Harry simply gasped out his thanks, telling us
between quick breaths how much he thought of
us all, and that he never so thoroly enjoyed a
birthday in his life. The felicitations on both
sides flowed like water until bed time, about
10 o'clock.

The return of the boys with the skins was the
occasion for a little jolt to me, as, when they
reached my goat they learned that it was not a
billy at all, but ananny. Billy Wooden’s “billy”
also turned out to be a nanny, much to his
regret.

When on the following morning we awoke to
find it still raining we began to think that our
trip had acted as a hoodoo on the weather.
This was our seventh day out from McCarthy,
and during that week there was not a day en-
tirely free from rain. The boys wrangled and
packed the horses in the rain and we mounted
our steeds and departed across the Nizina
Glacier in the ‘rain. After crossing the ice we
entered a pretty, forested valley—the Skolai—
following it to Clark’s roadhouse, which is no
roadhouse at all, but merely the scene of one.
We arrived at camp at 4 p. m.; distance traveled

aunty dn-suryoed Surinp y1OM ysnur ApogAsaAy] duueo Asnq kB Jo 9U39G

IN THE GOAT AND GLACIER FIELDS

during day, ten miles—a mileage negotiable by
auto on a good road in fifteen minutes; quite
some comparison when you contemplate it.

The information developed since our goat
hunt on Finger Mountain (also called Rhinoc-
eros Peak) that there was a better chance of
getting billies on the mountain north of Finger
Mountain and across Rohn Glacier from it (in
fact, Mr. Baxter told us that billies were not
found on Finger Mountain, so we decided to lay
over a day at Clark’s, and allow William and
Rogers to try their luck for a male goat. There-
fore, accompanied by Cap, Wooden and Shorty,
they departed. Harry, Jimmie Brown and I
thought we’d put in the time riding up the trail
a few miles to the Frederika (the route of our
proposed ride on the morrow), in the hope that
we might see a bear. We saw the fresh track of
a little black bear that led us up the Skolai and
onto Frederika. Glacier, but, losing it on the
glacier we returned to camp, after traveling about
fifteen miles. The other members returned at
8 p.m. and reported that Baxter’s outfit (guiding
Mr. Corcoran) had beat them to the mountain
aimed for, and that, as far as they could see and
learn, the other party had succeeded in getting
some billy goats. Wooden reported that he and
William had crawled up to within 150 yards of a
ram, which William missed.

Third (hapter

RUSSELL GEACIER

THE- SPELL OF THE YUKON

I’ve stood in some mighty-mouthed hollow
That’s plumb-full of hush to the brim;
I’ve watched the big, husky sun wallow
In crimson and gold, and grow dim,
Till the moon set the pearly peaks gleaming,
And the stars tumbled out, neck and crop;
And I’ve thought that I surely was dreaming,
With the peace o’ the world piled on top.

The summer—no sweeter was ever ;
The sunshiny woods all athrill;

The grayling aleap in the river,
The bighorn asleep on the hill.

The strong life that never knows harness ;
The wilds where the caribou call ;

The freshness, the freedom, the farness—
O God! how I’m stuck on it all.

There’s a land where the mountains are nameless,
And the rivers all run God knows where;
There are lives that are erring and aimless,
And deaths that just hang by a hair;
There are hardships that nobody reckons ;
There are valleys unpeopled and still ;
There’s a land—oh, it beckons and beckons,
And I want to go back—and I will.

—Robert Service.

THIRD CHAPTER
RUSSELL GLACIER

HE morning of August 18th found us

packing up at Clark’s for the fourteen-
mile ride up the Skolai River to Skolai Lake.
The air was most refreshing, and the hillsides
reflected all the variegated shades of green.
While we were to pass above timberline on the
‘ride today, yet we started in a spot beautifully
clothed in timber. The deciduous foliage was
now beginning to receive its autumnal color—
about a month ahead of the time in which it is
painted in Colorado—but as the pines were
greatly in the majority here the yellow spots
seemed only as light siftings sprinkled among
the green. As the leaf-shedding timber of this
country buds out about June Ist it will be seen
that it remains green only for about two and one-
half to three months, or a couple of months less
time than in Colorado.

The crossing of the Frederika River (which
issues from the Frederika Glacier and flows into
the Skolai some seven miles above Clark’s) was
accomplished with some difficulty, including a
few leg drenchings, but after all the packs were

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

safely across we settled back into single file up
the Skolai again and were happy. A red fox
streaked across our forward trail and took shelter
in the cafion below, while our timberline eleva-
tion brought us in close proximity to several
eagles, whose buoyant circles and raucous calls
were taken as signals that we were welcome to
their domain. If these birds should be satisfied
with rodents, offal, etc., for their menu, I would
feel inclined to like them; but considering the
great menace they are to young game, especially
lambs and kids, I am heartily in sympathy with
the Alaskan view that they should be killed
whenever possible. The present 50-cent bounty
is totally inadequate to keep their numbers
down below the point of danger to sheep and
other game. When a lamb is born nearly every
eagle, it seems, within 50 miles of the scene, knows
it, and by striking it with their wings, by at-
tacking it with their beaks and claws, and other-
wise harrassing it, they soon topple it over a cliff,
where it furnishes a rich morsel for their ghoulish
appetites.

Skolai Basin (also called Skolai Lake and
Skolai Pass—altho it is not the summit of the
pass) was reached at § p. m. in a rain storm.
They say that if there 1s any rain or snow in the
country it will fall here—a sort of magnet, it
seems, for all trading winds, and_ blizzards.
Being above timberline (elevation 4,300 ft.) no
timber shelter was available and consequently

eyLopat{ 243—wesIjs [eIOR|S eB ‘SsUIpUNOLINs puRIS Isprw. ‘Bulssois

RUSSELL GLACIER

no material at hand for tent poles. We carried
on the packs from our morning’s camp enough
wood for the cook-stove, but that was all. By
erecting Harry’s tentobed first it gave us a foun-
dation from which to spread a tarp to cover the
beds of William, Rogers and myself, so we were
soon at ease on that score. Jimmie, the cook,
soon had his stove up and a-blazing, and by
stretching a tarp from one bush to another next
the stove he had a very effective windbreak,
altho the cooking and eating were all accom-
plished in the rain.

The guides all bunked together in the edge of
the bushes after stretching canvas over the alders
where their beds were laid. Jimmie made a sort
of camouflage lean-to near the stove, but got
pretty badly wet before morning. Altogether
it was a very uncomfortable night, and therefore
we felt in no mood upon arising to enjoy the
beautiful scenery hereabouts.

The first ptarmigan encountered on the trip
was seen the following morning—a covey of only
three or four. In fact, ptarmigan were rarely
seen. I doubt if more than twenty-five of these
birds were met with by all the members of our
party while out, and not more than half a dozen
rabbits. A couple or so years before they were
both found there in great numbers. From what
I could learn, both the ptarmigan and rabbits
die off after they become so plentiful that the
food vlays out. Then a plague seems to take

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

them, and they die by the wholesale. I am told
that the apex of their abundance 1s reached about
every seven years. That is their death-knell,
and the following year there isn’t a rabbit nor a
ptarmigan to be found.” Gradually, however,
they begin to come back and continue to increase
for seven years, when again the plague seizes
them and they disappear as before. I conclude,
of course, that all these birds and animals could
not be killed off at each recurring period, other-
wise there would be no seed left for reproduction.
I wonder if such a plague could have wiped
away our passenger pigeons, which disappeared
so suddenly and mysteriously from our midst
many years ago. ;

Not a great while back there were no coyotes
to be found on the White River, but now they
are working into that country, and it may not
be many years before they will be as great a men-
ace to the game of Alaska and Yukon Territory
as they are now to the stock and game of the
States.

As we topped the boggy eminence that morn-
ing above our Skolai camp we beheld that gorge-
ful of glistening ice known as Russell Glacier,
straight ahead and a mile away. The mouth of
this great ice-mass stretched across the stream
bed for a mile or two, resembling at this distance
a great long strip of canvas pegged down at
either end by the rocky promontories of the
gulch. Soon we climbed up on its slippery sur-

RUSSELL GLACIER

face, and were trailing on an ice bed beside which
Nizina and Regal (crossed while hunting goats)
paled to mere insignificance. It is twelve miles
across Russell, and each mile traveled is danger-
ous and difficult. From the headwaters of the
Skolai River (which is fed by Russell Glacier)
we cross over on the ice to the head of the White
River, which also finds its source in the same
glacier. In other words, Russell Glacier is the
divide between McCarthy and the White River
country.

Russell Glacier is composed about half of
white ice and half of moraine. The former, of
course, is pure ice, but for the benefit of those who
do not know it may be well to rudely and briefly
describe the moraine. To glance over certain
farts of its mountainous surface, where the
gashes and precipices do not disclose the ice, one
would liken it to a very hilly formation com-
posed of broken, angular-shaped lava rock, or
shale rock, so frequently found in our moun-
tains. These rocks run in size from a grain of
sand to a cook stove, averaging, perhaps, two or
three inches in size. They form a sort of coating
or dressing over the ice bed, this coating running
in thickness from an inch to several feet, averaging
about six inches. It is more treacherous to travel
than the white ice, for the reason that either
horse or man is apt to depend on it to hold when
it will not. On a sharp declivity, where the
greatest support is needed, the horse, fooled by

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

this gravel and rock coating, ofttimes goes
sprawling, depending on his skating ability and
balance to land right side up at the foot of the
slide.

Cave-ins are almost constantly occurring ow-
ing to the movement of the glacier and the melt-
ing of the ice; therefore a good trail today may
be torn out by an ice-slide tomorrow. Ona great
part of Russell Glacier no trail at all is visible,
but over the most dangerous sections used by
prospectors, packers, trappers and guides, the
travelers have found it of advantage to follow
certain well-defined courses. The travel has in
these spots beaten down the rocks into a fairly
visible trail. Occasionally it was found neces-
sary to stop the outfit long enough to chop the
ice from a hillside to fill a dangerous “gulch” or
to hew down an impossible ice barrier, too slip-
pery to climb. For this purpose ice picks and
axes were always kept on top of the packs for
quick use.

Four sheep were seen from this morning’s
camp at Skolai Pass, and a band of some twenty-
five or thirty were later noticed on one of the
mountains flanking Russell Glacier as we passed.

After six hours of very nervous travel on the
glacier, we came out on the bank of the ice-field,
which was in fact its east mouth. Down this
bank for 300 yards we scrambled, slid and rolled
to the flat gravel bed of the White River, and our
glacier travel was ended until the return.

JOIPIH [assmy—ouresow eels 9y2 Jo syjiy pue suodued ‘s}jl]+

RUSSELL GLACIER

We followed down the bar of the White for ten
miles to camp at North Fork Island—a collection
of very substantial cabins built (except one two-
story cabin) by Howard H. Fields, of the Ameri-
can Smelting & Refining Co., Denver, Colo.
Mr. Fields spent some time in Alaska during the
Shushanna gold rush. They cost thousands of
dollars to construct but can now be bought for
$50.00.

They are now entirely deserted except for the
“patronage” they receive from passing prospec-
tors, hunters and trappers. On the way into
camp William saw a very fresh bear track, Shorty
a fresh moose track and I a nearly fresh bear track.
The river bar was well tracked up with old signs,
and our hopes mounted to lofty heights as we
contemplated on what we would do to the wearers
of those hoofs and claws later on.

This was a hard day on all—men and horses
alike. We had covered twenty-six miles from
our Skolai camp, twelve of which was over the
glacier, and we all felt very tired.

The next morning broke in a drizzle. Feeling
that we might run short of salt, and knowing
that we would need more bacon, we sent Jimmie
Brown over to Shushanna (the old mining camp,
35 miles distant—now a collection of a dozen or
so occupied houses) for these two commodities.
He took a pack horse, and came up with us a
few days later at the Kletsan camp. The 200
pounds of salt that he bought cost 35 cents a

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

pound, or $70 for the lot, while 35 pounds of
bacon cost 70 cents a pound (they usually add
about 25 cents a pound for freighting). These
prices did not seem exorbitant when we were in-
formed that ore costs $1,100 a carload for ship-
ping charges alone from Kennecott to Cordova,
196 miles.

We got started for the Kletsan about Io
o’clock, following down the White for eighteen
miles. Signs of moose and bear were seen all
along the trail, and on this account Harry, Cap
and I headed the procession, expecting to jump
game at any time. By far the most of the bear
tracks seen during the day were grizzly—some
of them large, about 7 or 7% in. across front paw.
When at 5 o’clock we unpacked at the first per-
manent camp of our trip—the Kletsan, eleva-
tion 3,000 ft.—we counted thirty-two sheep
(ovis dalli—there are no other species in this
country) on the famous old sheep mountain
across the White River from our camp, about
five miles away (elevation about 7,000 ft.).
This eminence we later named Mount Figgins,
in honor of the director of our museum, J. D.
Figgins. (I have applied to Washington to have
it officially named and the one at Skolai Lake
called James Peak, in honor of Harry C. James,
my co-worker and companion on this trip.)

Fourth (hapter

SHEEP—BOTH WHITE AND DARK—
A DIGRESSION

A ee |
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FOURTH CHAPTER

SHEEP—BOTH WHITE AND DARK—A
DIGRESSION

WE were now camped within a few hours’

walk of the mountain that was destined
to yield us the greatest number of sheep
trophies of any spot on the line of our journey.
And next morning we were to start hunting
for these rare animals—a species of our Ameri-
can wild life than which there is none more
interesting, none so little understood, none
shrouded in greater mystery. For Mr. and Mrs.
Ovis have only been close friends of ours for
something like 100 years—a very short spell
from the scientist’s standpoint. The Lewis &
Clark expedition (which in 1804-05 traversed
the most ideal sheep ranges on this continent)
knew nothing authentic about the bighorn—in
fact, when these animals were killed by its mem-
bers for meat there was some doubt cast as to
their being sheep at all. Considering the fact
that Mother Nature holds no bones of the ovis
family in her cemetery, I am just a little puzzled
at the,variety of species that some of our scientists

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

recognize in these animals. For of course it
takes great periods of time for even the process of
evolution to scatter and perpetuate the seeds of
species, or even sub-species.

I have looked up the latest publications on
sheep (Miller, U.S. National Museum), and tomy
amazement find he now recognizes thirteen spe-
cies and varieties, not counting fannint, which is
recognized as a cross between stonei and dalli.

Regarding the name “‘bighorn:” the general
name for the entire genera .is “mountain
sheep,” or just “sheep.” “Bighorn,” in its pop-
ular application, refers only to first known cana- |
densis—the others being designated as Dall’s
sheep, Stone’s sheep, Nelson’s sheep, etc. In-
cidentally, the name canadensis is incorrect, but
long usage establishes it. It was described as
canadensis by Shaw in 1804, but some two
months earlier, Desmarest called it cervina.

In 1885, True called 1t montanus, and in 1891
Merriam reverted to canadensis. In 1912, Allen
proved cervina was the proper name because of
priority of the name. As Shaw used Desmarest’s
type specimen for his name canadensis, he has
since been under suspicion, but the long use of
the name establishes it apparently, and besides,
why should we enter the quarrel at this late day?

As stated elsewhere in this work I thoroughly
disagree with the recognition of the long list of
subspecific varieties. I can only see two main
svecies—dalli and canadensis.

SHEEP—BOTH WHITE AND DARK

Below is a list of the mountain sheep given by
Miller, together with the type locality of each:

Ovis canadensis canadensis: “Bighorn”; mountains on Bow
River, near Calgary, Alberta.

*Ovis canadensis auduboni: Upper Missouri, S. D. (I think this
was the original type locality of canadensis, but the names
have been changed and a new type locality given to the
“bighorn.”

*Ovis canadensis californiana: Near Mt. Adams, Yakima
County, Wash.

*Ovis canadensis cremnobates: Matomi, San Pedro Martir Moun-
tain, Lower California.

*Ovis canadensis gaillardi: Between Tinajas Altas and Mexican
boundary line, Yuma County, Arizona.

*Ovis canadensis Sierrae: Mt. Baxter, Inyo County, California.

*Ovis canadensis texiana: “Texas mountain sheep”; Guadalupe
Mountains, El Paso County, Tex.

Ovis cowani: Cowan’s mountain sheep. Near Mt. Logan,
British Columbia.

Ovis dalli dalli: Dall’s mountain sheep. West of Ft. Reliance,
Alaska.

Ovis dalli kenaiensis: Kenai mountain sheep. Kenai Peninsula,
Alaska.

Ovis fannini: Fannin’s mountain sheep. No longer recognized
as a sub-species.

Ovis mexicana: Mexican mountain sheep. Lake Santa Maria,
Chihuahua, Mexico.

Ovis nelsoni: Nelson’s sheep. Grapevine Mountains, Cali-
fornia-Nevada boundary.

Ovis stonei: Stone’s mountain sheep. Stikine River, B. C.

While the nervous waters were battering down
and wearing away the bridge that then con-
nected Alaska and Kamchatka, Old Man Big-
horn sallied eastward, he and his kin, into the

¥*No common name.

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

country which later became his home, and which
now extends from the Sierra Madres to the
Arctic Circle.

One hundred years ago sheep had not all been
driven to the higher elevations, but were found
in plenteous numbers as far east as the tablelands
of the Dakotas, Western Nebraska, etc. The
encroach of the hunter and the homesteader in
later years drove these bands that were living
low, to higher ground in the mountains; thence
at a still later period to the rocky cliffs of the
mountains and the stretches around timberline.
(I do not mean to infer that sheep at that period
were not found also in plentiful numbers in the
Rockies—even above timberline—for they were;
but in addition to their natural habitat in the
higher mountains, they had drifted eastward to
the tablelands mentioned.)

Just as there are in reality only three species
of bears (the grizzly, black and Polar—all others
being sub-species), so also are the main species of
sheep confined—namely to two, the ovis cana-
densis and ovis dalli. The ovis nelsoni, ovis
mexicana, ovis cremnobates, etc., are all branches
of the family canadensis, while the ovis fannini,
as stated elsewhere, is merely a cross between
ovis stonei and ovis dalli. As you come south
from the real home of the dalli (the Kenai Penin-
sula and the mainlands east of it) you find black
hairs mixed with the white of these animals.
The farther you journey south toward the nat-

SHEEP—BOTH WHITE AND DARK

ural home of the stonei (the Cassiar Mountains
of British Columbia and some surrounding terri-
tory) the more pronounced in numbers these
black and dark-colored hairs become, until ovis
stonei is found. (Most of the sheep collected by
our expedition were found on close inspection to
have plenty of black hairs, although they were
so limited as not to be seen at even so short a
distance as ten or twelve feet.)

At the present day sheep are almost oblit-
erated in the United States except in Wyoming,
Montana and Idaho—and even in the latter two
States it has been found advisable to place a per-
petual closed season on them. At the present
time big-horn sheep may be killed only in one
State of the Union—Wyoming—and | anticipate
that an absolute closed season will be placed on
them at Wyoming’s present Assembly, thereby
rendering the big-horn immune from rifle fire
in every State of the Union. Thus shall have
passed from the sportsman’s pursuit one of the
most highly-prized and picturesque of the
American wild animals.

John B. Burnham, president of the American
Game Protective and Propagation Association
(of which every American sportsman should be a
member), and who has hunted all the different
varieties of big game in nearly every section of
this continent, writes me concerning sheep:

“If not today, the time is not far distant when
in dollars and cents sheep will be the most val-

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

uable game in North America. Sportsmen will
go farther for sheep than any other game except
bears.”

The breeding season for sheep extends from
the 15th of November until the first of February,
depending on weather and physical conditions,
as well as location. The most common period is
from about November 25th to January Ist, the
January rutting being very exceptional. Lambs
are dropped usually from May 15th to June 25th
in the States among the canadensis family, but
on the White River the period usually runs a
little earlier—from May ist to May 2oth.
Ordinarily but one lamb is born, but I believe
after the ewe’s first young she will have two
quite frequently.

The successful sheep hunter must, perforce,
have the game vision developed to the very
highest order of perfection. He should be a good
climber, strong of heart and limb and a good
game shot. While many sheep are killed at a dis-
tance under 100 yards, yet most of them are shat
at ranges far exceeding these figures. A man
doesn’t have to be a good target shot in order to
be a successful sheep hunter. He may be able
to make 90 to 95 regularly at the target range
and absolutely fail when shooting at sheep.
The prime requisites. are a cool head, ordinary
ability to judge distances quickly, and good
marksmanship qualities. I am now speaking
of the man who would do a considerable amount

Upper picture—A ‘“‘kettle-biled” lunch in the caribou country.
Middle—How a sheep specimen was damaged by eagles.
Lower—A large white sheep.

—_—

SHEEP—BOTH WHITE AND DARK

of sheep hunting and not of the one who would
go out on a single trip for these animals. In the
latter case he might accidentally run onto a big
ram during the first day’s hunting, and might
also be able to kill his ram at twenty-five yards.
Such luck as this, however, seldom falls to the
lot of the sheep hunter.

Apropos of the subject of approaching sheep
at close range, I believe Ned Frost, the Wyoming
guide, has had more extraordinary experiences
than anyone I know of. Writing to me on the
subject he says:

“T once had a good-sized ram come up to me
where I was eating my lunch and after working
around, and sizing me up from all sides, he
finally came right up to me and actually licked
my hand, and I could see myself in his eye, just
like looking in a small mirror; but when I made
a grab at his front legs, thinking that perhaps I
might be able to throw him and get him in alive,
he got really frightened and showed that he was
a real sure-enough wild sheep by getting down
off that mountain and up the other side of the
cafion and on over the highest peak in sight with-
out hardly stopping to look back. I would not
have liked to tackle the job of getting within
rifle range of him again that day.

“Another rather queer thing happened to
Judge Ford, of New York City, and myself,
during September, 1915, while hunting near the
headwaters of the Shoshone in Wyoming. We

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

had been watching a couple of bunches of sheep
for some time, and one lot of seven being
right. in line with where we were going, we ex-
posed ourselves to their view, and watched re-
sults. Six of them ‘beat it’ at once, but the other
one never moved, and we found later that he was
sound asleep in the sun, and he never woke up
till we were just opposite him and about a couple
of hundred yards away. Then as he got up and
saw no sheep close by, he evidently made up his
mind we were sheep, and here he came, right
up to within five feet of us, and then seemed
much surprised to find we were not his kind of
people at all. But still he was not frightened
enough to beat it, but kept walking around us
within a few yards as tho trying to make us out
to be sheep anyway. He was only a yearling—
but show me the yearling elk, deer or any other
wild animal that would exhibit such boneheaded-
ness! It was just such doings as this that made
me think that they were not much on the scent,
and I have proven it to myself many times, and
even that same day I took Judge Ford right up
to within thirty yards of seventeen ewes and
lambs with the wind blowing straight from us to
them.”

I do not profess to be an expert sheep hunter.
If I could consider myself such I would feel that
I had reached the very highest pinnacle of hunt-
ing proficiency.

There is so much real art, woods lore, tracking

jefe)

SHEEP—BOTH WHITE AND DARK

sense, leg muscle and marksmanship wrapped
in the make-up of such an one that I have not
even the faintest suspicion that I will ever reach
that distinction. But I have been out with good
sheep hunters and have seen their work. I have
had them point out sheep to me at 600 to 1,000
yards with the naked eye that I would have passed
by as nothing more important than gray rocks on
the distant cliffs, or shimmering sun pranks on
stumps or logs. I have had them pick up what
appeared to meat first glance as deer tracks, but
which when followed a few yards turned out to be
sheep tracks. This may sound odd to the hunter,
but I had this very thing happen many years ago
while hunting with Ned Frost, guide, in Wyo-
ming. His attention was first directed to the
track. It was not plain, or we could have arrived
at the correct solution immediately, but rather
ruffed up in loose, dry dirt. The toe points
came together so closely that I remarked that it
was “only a deer track.” Ned said it did re-
semble a deer track a little, but he was satisfied it
was sheep, and such it proved to be when we
finally worked it out. This illustrates one of the
finer points of sheep hunting. I am satisfied
that many sheep hunters would have passed by
this track with no notice. While it was made by
a ram too small for us to consider, it might have
been the trail of an old fellow with a 17-inch head.

There is a factor in sheep hunting that makes
it one of the most dangerous of American hunt-

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

ing sports. In making this statement I do not
wish to discourage sportsmen from engaging in it,
for the danger is not so great as that. However,
as compared to grizzly bear hunting, I consider
that sheep hunting is the more dangerous to life
and limb. I am carrying in my memory some
narrow escapes from permanent injury and death
that I have both experienced and witnessed. I also
have some well-developed rheumatic germs that
were received into my system through exposure
on the head of Gravel Bar, Wyo., many years
ago, while hunting with Lawrence Nordquist,
of Cody, Wyo., as guide. Our camp was located
on the Sunlight River at an elevation of 7,000
feet. A few days before, from a different camp,
we had seen sheep on the side of a peak rising up
from Gravel Bar. On this particular morning
we left camp at 7 a. m., and at 2 p. m. reached
the summit at an elevation of 11,400 feet, after
zigzagging considerably. We then descended on
the other side 600 feet, but found no sheep. We
saw their tracks made the day we had seen the
sheep from above the other camp, but that was
all. So we decided to return to camp by different
routes, and at 3:20 p. m. we separated, Lawrence
going back by the Gravel Bar side and I descend-
ing by the way we had come up. On returning,
however, I saw tracks leading around the other
side of the peak from that by which we had
ascended, so I changed my course and decided to
follow them. They led me among almost in-

SHEEP—BOTH WHITE AND DARK

accessible rim rocks, slides and cliffs, and when I
had covered a half mile on this side of the peak
I began to wish I had taken our morning’s trail.
Soon I came to a point where I had to halt
against the glazy side of an unclimbable rim.
I simply could go no farther that way, so was
compelled to follow the only course—climb up-
wards over the top of the peak. This I did after
much difficulty, crawling and dragging myself
over the knife-like edge of the summit at 6:30
p. m.—nearly dark in Wyoming the last of
September.

Here I was, 4,400 feet (I always carry an
aneroid barometer) in elevation above camp,
four miles distant, and 1,000 feet above timber-
line, with the task of descending by a route over
which, at places, my guide and I had to assist
each other in ascending—and this feat to be
performed in the dark. It almost gives me a
nightmare, even now, when I think of the ex-
periences of that night. Ordinarily I would have
made camp at timberline, but I was so set on
getting in for a little sleep and a change of camp
next day, that the camping-out theory received
the cold shoulder from me. In some places I had
to drop over precipitious rocks six to ten feet,
depending on good luck in how I landed at the
bottom. I held to insecure roots, shrubs, etc.,
in climbing down, which at times gave way,
precipitating me down backwards eight or ten
feet. This was kept up until about 10:30 p. m.

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

when I made the descent of the mountain proper,
but I was now in a dense forest with down tim-
ber, and only starlight to guideme. Anyone who
has ever traveled in a heavy pine forest after
night knows what little light sheds through. I
arrived at camp after fording the Sunlight River
four times, hip deep in places, at just midnight,
my limbs bleeding in a dozen places, blood on
my face from a fall (and this smeared all over my
physiognomy from frequent use of my handker-
chief), and altogether the most dilapidated look-
ing vagabond that had been seen in those parts
for many aday—and the Sunlight River District
has seen some tough-looking ones in her time.

I had also an experience in Montana in IgII
that I shall not soon forget. Johnny Ballenger
and I were hunting sheep on the upper reaches of
Grizzly Creek, in the Hell-Roaring country north
of Gardiner. While on the very precipitous side
of a mountain we came to an old snow bank.
The snow, except for an inch or two that had
recently fallen, was as hard as ice and descended
down a gulch at an angle of about 45°. It was
about fifty feet across, and 300 feet long, and as
it dropped over a precipice 50 yards below us we
felt that there was no way to get around it.
Johnny got over it first, and stood, watching my
progress, a few yards below the point that I was
headed for. When within ten feet of the goal I
slipped and fell, but luckily landed in a sitting
position. Before I could jab my gun stock in

SHEEP—BOTH WHITE AND DARK

the snow I found myself slipping. Then, quickly,
I stuck the gun stock in the snow on my right.
This almost upset me, and I tried to dig my heels
in the ice-like surface, but, failing in this, and
accumulating momentum as I slowly slid for-
ward I again jammed the gun stock in, this time
holding it between my legs. I was not making
much success at this when I passed Johnny’s
position, and, hearing him call and looking up,
I saw him holding out to me a long sarvis berry
twig. I held to it and swung in to safety below
him just as I was beginning to realize the danger
of my position. I was really not very much ex-
cited until it was all over, but I slept very little
that night, thinking of it. After that experience
I haven’t near as much nerve on icy or snowy
sidling surfaces as I formerly had.

Previous to my late trip to Alaska and Yukon
Territory, my sheep hunting had been confined
to Wyoming and Montana. In twenty-five
years of hunting (during which time I have been
a participant in more than a score of big game
hunting trips in various parts of the continent)
I am glad that the pursuit of ovis canadensis
has claimed seven out of twenty-two of these
trips, as follows:

In 1900, in the company of J. A. Ricker and
Dike Fisk, in the Big Blackfoot country of Mon-
tana.

In 1907, with Ned Frost and Fred Richard, in the
Wiggins Fork and Greybull country of Wyoming.

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

In 1910, with W. B. Shore and Johnny Bal-
lenger on Hell Roaring and Grizzly Creek,
Montana.

In 1911, with Will Richard and Snaky Jim
Goodman, on the South Fork of the Shoshone
River, Wyoming. |

In 1912, with Lawrence Nordquist and Dave
(Red) Powell on the Sunlight River, Wyoming.

In 1914, with Ned Frost and Fred Richard on
the North Fork of the Shoshone River, Wyo-
ming.

In 1915, with E. S. Dykes and Fred Brown on
Dinwoody River, Wyoming.

The above named trips for sheep represent
some strenuous physical efforts in the highest and
ruggedest parts of the Rockies in Wyoming and
Montana, each one filled with its regular quota
of hardship, toil and that supremest test of all—
enduring patience. When I contemplate that
some men have returned from one hunting trip
on which they have secured as large a number
of sheep specimens (ovis stonei and ovis fannin1)
besides other game in addition, as I have killed
on all my seven trips for ovis canadensis in the
United States, I begin to wonder if I would be
considered a very good sheep hunter—or if my
poor showing is not in reality due to the superior-
ity of ovis canadensis over ovis stonei and ovis
fannini, in relation to their wariness and shrewd-
ness in eluding pursuit.

It is amusing to read statements made con-

JOARY 21yA UO dues uRsjapy [Nyaneaq oy],

SHEEP—BOTH WHITE AND DARK

cerning the habits of sheep by men just returning
from their initial trip for these animals—such, for
instance, as: ““Always get above your sheep, as,
when frightened, they never run down hill; a
sheep will ‘wind’ you half a mile away; never
take a horse into the sheep hills, if you expect to
bag your game; if a ram sees you first, you might
as well go to camp,” etc., etc.

I may say inreply to such statements (I am not
able to enumerate here all that I have read of
this character), that it is impossible for a man
to learn an animal’s habits sufficiently to set
himself up as an authority, with the experiences
of only one or two trips to go by. In fact, I
should consider that such a man would be apt
to give out some very dangerous (from a natural
history standpoint) information, rather than in-
structive, for the reason that animals, like per-
sons, are freaky in their traits, and this man
might witness some phenomenal or exceptional
act on one trip that might never be seen again
in a hundred years.

To illustrate: My guide and I frightened sheep,
in sight, from a mountain two miles away, in
Wyoming; and yet at another time three rams
sauntering down towards us on the opposite hills
In a quartering direction not over 400 yards
away (while we in turn were traveling towards
them, on horseback), didn’t see us. Even our
quick action in dismounting did not disturb them.
One of these rams was the biggest and darkest I

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

have ever seen, reminding us somewhat of a
musk-ox in appearance at the distance seen.
From concealed positions behind our horses we
watched the little procession as it moved slowly
toward us, then turned and walked over a rise
out of sight. There were no obstructions of any
sort to interfere with vision, for we were on the
grassy slopes above the timberline. These sheep
(or at least the old leader—for the ones in the
rear are not so apt to be wary) simply had relaxed
into a thoughtless state, just the same as some
people do who, in crossing a street, suddenly
butt into a street car or an automobile before
being brought to. Iam satisfied that if I should
be permitted to go on a hundred sheep hunts
and bag my game on each trip, I would never
again encounter an experience with wild sheep
like this one. If I had been a novice at the time
I might have returned to civilization with some ~
very startling disclosures regarding the tameness
of the big-horn.

I have been able to frighten ewes and lambs
from a hillside half a mile away, with no other
demonstration than quietly walking by; and yet
I thumped a pebble from my thumb against a
ewe’s back ten yards away—and even then Ned
Frost waved his coat almost in her face before
she arose and skipped off with her lamb.

I have ridden a horse up to where a ram could
almost jump off a cliff and alight on me while he
stood watching us trail along up the gulch; in

SHEEP—BOTH WHITE AND DARK

plain sight of him, we dismounted and sneaked
in the timber under cover (our horse out in plain
sight), from the openings of which we saw him
continue to feed and finally lie down; and yet,
under similar conditions except that we were
afoot, at about the same distance, 300 or 400
yards, I saw rams stand for a few seconds watch-
ing us, only to suddenly flirt away as I raised my
gun, and whom we trailed in the snow for three
days over the most difficult cliffs and precipices in
Montana—and then without success.

I have seen rams take fright at what appeared
to be my “wind” at a distance of hundreds of
yards; and yet I successfully stalked a ram
while he was lying down, with a fairly strong wind
that carried my scent directly to him at a distance
of 150 yards.

After that experience, coupled with others
that I have had in stalking rams, I am con-
vinced that they haven’t the keen scenting
powers with which they are generally credited.
In fact (at least in the pursuit of ovis canadensis),
if I were to go on a sheep hunt again, and of
course I hope to do so, I believe I should prac-
tically eliminate the factor of wind in my stalk-
ing. I know I should pay very little attention
to it. This statement may cause a mild sensa-
tion among some sheep hunters, but before allow-
ing themselves to be convulsed with any violent
emotion over it, I would advise, even though
they may have had quite a little experience in

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

sheep hunting themselves, that they consult
with others of undoubted experience in this sport
before passing censure on my remarks—or else go
on some more sheep hunts themselves. I class
the sheep’s scenting qualities (at least the ovis
canadensis, with which I have had more ex-
perience than with the ovis dalli, or white sheep)
about on a par with the bear’s poor vision, and
of course all bear hunters know how utterly
lacking in sight Bruin is as compared to his
scenting and hearing faculties.

sfee)

Fifth Chapter

ON THE SHEEP RANGES

FIFTH CHAPTER
ON THE SHEEP RANGES

“T HE morning following our arrival at our

camp on Kletsan Creek (August 21st) we
arose early with blood a-tingle, and nerves
on edge for what turned out to be the most
bungling stalk I have ever been guilty of sharing
in. I have often dwelt on the importance of
splitting up, or spreading out, in game hunting,
in order to avoid a crowd while stalking, but in
this instance the powers seem to have decreed
otherwise, for we approached that game-laden
mountain, on that most auspicious of all days,
en masse, much as a regiment of soldiers would
attack an enemy in the old way of the good old
days. There were in the storming party Harry,
William, Rogers and myself, as the would-be
annihilators extraordinary; Cap'and Wooden as
guides, and Longley as horse wrangler (for we
rode to the foot of the mountain, five miles, on
horseback). The only reason we didn’t take
Brownie, Shorty and Jimmy along, too, was be-
cause Brownie had been sent to Shushanna for
salt, and Shorty and Jimmie probably had better
sense than to come. Of course we knew there

103

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

were enough sheep on the mountain to supply a
dozen museums—they were in sight along its
five-mile comb nearly all the time—but they
knew we were there, too, and they knew also
that we weren’t coming up for the purpose of
giving them a tea party.

After leaving the horses, just at the edge of
timberline, in charge of Bill Longley, we climbed
up a draw until a bunch of seven rams (young
and old) came into view I,000 feet above us. We
ducked out of sight, then crawled until we could
go no farther without exposing ourselves in
crossing a ridge ahead. We lay in the under-
brush and rocks for half an hour, hoping they
would feed out of sight; but they didn’t, so Cap
and I retreated down the draw and skirted the
ridge, coming up on the other side. About this
time the other boys decided to move also, so
when we circled the mountain we found them all
lying under a protecting rock a few hundred
feet above, waiting for us. When we reached
them we advanced upward, keeping to the right
of and under the ridge, Cap in the lead and Harry
and I following; William and Rogers had fol-
lowed the comb of the ridge, slightly above us.
Suddenly Cap, who was fifty or one hundred feet
ahead of us, motioned that he saw the rams, and
soon we climbed to where we also could barely
see their backs outlined against the sky on the
ridge 200 yards away. Neither Harry nor I
could see enough of them to shoot before they

104

ON THE SHEEP RANGES

were gone. We continued for a few hundred
yards farther, Cap still fifty feet or so in the
lead, when again they appeared on the sky-line
260 yards away, looking down at us. Cap raised
his gun to shoot, but I stopped him. Due to our
winded condition and our effort to get a solid
footing before shooting (also to our trying to get
out where their full bodies showed, as they made
a very poor target for us, albeit a good one for
Cap), they escaped before we could get a shot.

Silently and sour we climbed to the top of the
ridge, where we were joined by William, Rogers
and Wooden. We reached the summit just in
time to see the farewell salute of our quarry as it
passed over the next ridge. It seemed now too
late in the day to make another hunt, so, de-
scending by another route to the westward we
met Longley with the horses as per appointment,
and rode to camp. While waiting for Longley
and scouring the timber to find out if he had
gone up or down, Harry saw something dark thru
the deep foliage that looked like a moose. His
surmise was later proven to be correct when
William found the fresh sign of the animal where
it had been standing. We reached camp at
7 p.m. after a most unsatisfactory hunt.

Next morning we all arose with a determined
feeling that a repetition of the previous day’s
blunder should never occur again. William,
Wooden, Rogers and Longley started for moose
in the timber near camp, while Harry and Shorty

105

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

went down the river five miles, also for moose,
returning over the timbered ridge. Neither of
these two parties was able to connect with game.

Cap and I went up the Kletsan eight miles to
the Jack Dalton cabin, expecting to hunt caribou
on the barren ground above it. Six miles up we
came to the ‘“Too-Much”’ Johnson cabin, a de-
serted one-room affair built several years ago by
a man of that name—later killed in a crevasse on
the Shushanna Glacier. (A description of his
tragic death was published in the preceding
pacts. .) Since then the cabin has been occupied

y any who can make use of it, but principally,
I believe, by Capt. Erickson, a trapper.

The ground about the cabin was fairly littered
with the skins and horns of sheep, moose and
caribou. A kennel built of logs and lying in the
timber 100 feet from the cabin for the shelter of
dogs attested to the fact that these animals had
been kept there. It seems that trappers in that
country sometimes board sled dogs on game in
the summer when not in use by mushers. We
saw several old camps used for this purpose,
often with that necessary adjunct, the kennel
house, in close proximity. I have pointed out
this danger to our game to officials of Alaska
and Yukon Territory, and hope that the menace
may some day be entirely obliterated.

We reached the Dalton cabin about 11 o’clock
and ate lunch. From here we saw three sheep
on the upper mesas of the gulch opposite—

106

noqlivo puke daays ‘asooul
JO 918 PUNOIS UO SUTYS DUT “IBID URSJBTY{ ‘UIQed UCSUYO( _YIN|\-0O |

»» PUL

ON THE SHEEP RANGES

nestled in the hills that skirted that beautiful
summit, Mt. Natazhat. It wasclear to us, how-
ever, that they might as well have been on top
of that mountain as where they were, for it would
have been an utter impossibility to successfully
stalk them. So we passed them up and climbed
over the hill toward the caribou barrens, at the
same time following the line of the Kletsan.
We had gone but a mile or two when we came
opposite the gulch adjoining the one in which we
had seen the sheep, so turning the glasses into
its upper reaches, we detected five sheep on a
mesa three miles up the gulch, and lost no time
in shuffling down thru the soft, silty soil to the
Kletsan, across it and up toward the game.
Tying the horses a mile and a half up the little
cafion, we then proceeded on foot, part of the
time clinging to the walls and often walking the
stream bed to keep from sight.

Finally we reached two of the little “guts”
leading up to the mesa, lying almost parallel.
I took one of these and Cap the other on the
plan that if one of us happened to miss arriving
at the right spot, the other might. I took up
the first of these and Cap the next one. We
knew the sheep couldn’t be over 200 or 300
yards from where we stood when we started to
climb, so we had to be very careful. When I
reached a point near the summit of my climb I
happened to look Cap’s way and saw him clam-
bering toward me over the ridge that lay between

107

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

us, hat and arms in air, gesticulating and sign-
talking in the most excited manner. The sub-
stance of all his mute commands was for me to
duck, that the sheep were just over the rim
ahead of me—my position being directly on a line
between the game and Cap.

When he reached me we held a short pow-wow,
the sense of which was that I was to take the first
shot, after which we both were to whale away
until we had secured what we wanted—provided,
of course, that we must not shoot at any animal
not desirable as a good specimen for the museum.
With feverish expectancy we crawled to the top.
Then, as we began to see things around us we
went almost by inches. Finally we peered over
and saw five sheep feeding in a grassy swale.
The nearest was not over sixty yards away.
There were two 3-year-olds (a male and a fe-
male), two lambs and an ewe. I picked out the
male 3-year-old and killed it with the first shot
thru the shoulder. Then Cap opened up. In
fact we were both able to get in a shot at the re-
treating band before they dove into the gulch
but afew yards beyond. Weran breathless to the
rim of the gulch and saw them stretching tape
like scared cats 300 yards away. I never saw a
jaan get-away in my life. We both continued

ring at them as they ran up the rocky gorge ©

and at the fifth shot at 450 yards (measured) I

dropped the ewe. She never moved after falling,

as ee as we could see at that distance. When
108

ON THE SHEEP RANGES

we reached her she was dead, the .30 U. S. spitzer
having entered the side and traveled diagonall
thru the body, emerging thru the shoulder, ee
was badly mangled.

It was then 4 o’clock and by 6:30 we had them
both measured, skinned and the available meat
sorted out. While skinning out the young ram
I noticed with interest the effect of the shot.
The bullet (spitzer hard-pointed 150 grain—same
as used on the ewe) had entered the shoulder
without breaking it, but pulverized the opposite
shoulder and all meat and bone within six inches
of the path of exit, for it went thru the animal.
When I saw the mess I remarked to Cap, “‘What
would that bullet have done to a bear?” “Par-
alyzed ’im,”’ said he.

While we both were conscious of a certain
satisfaction at the celerity of our accomplishment,
yet an ominous sky and sudden sprinkle of rain
boded an unpleasant return to camp, especially
as we were now not less than eleven miles from
that goal, over a most difficult route.

Shouldering our bundles of meat, hides, guns
and cameras (some of which were tied by ropes
and straps that had been stowed away in our
pockets for such an emergency as this) we made
for the horses, a mile and a half down the gulch.
This consumed about two hours, finding us both
fairly wet and very warm at the end of the hike.
At the horses, Cap, thinking of the hides first,
wrapped them, against my vigorous protest, in

109

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

his slicker, and rode to the Dalton cabin, him-
self unprotected from the cold and rain. Even
with my raincoat and oiled chaps I was very
cold and wet when we rode up to this cabin about
9:30 in a heavy downpour. Here I insisted that
we leave the meat and hides, so that Cap might
use his slicker for himself during the balance of
the way to camp. The night air was very cold
and the rain, driven by a slight wind, was pene-
trating. The eight-mile ride from here to camp
was a long and tiresome one—intermixed with
short stretches of walking to keep up our circula-
tion. It continued raining all the way to camp,
where we arrived at 12:15 a. m., soaked, cold
and stiff.

The following morning (Friday, Aug. 23rd)
Cap and I were so sore and tired from the ex-
periences of the preceding day that we didn’t
arise till 9 o'clock. The other members, except
Harry, took a skirmish for moose and caribou,
returning at 6 p. m., with the report that no
game had been found but that some fresh caribou
tracks were seen to adorn the otherwise very
unattractive terrene. In the afternoon Harry
and I took our horses on a ten-mile hunt up Camp
Creek, but without result.

On the morning of August 24th at 5 we were
routed out of bed by Jimmie’s salubrious call.
Our fighting army on this occasion was rep-
resented by Harry James, Wm. James, Billy
Wooden and Bill Longley in one aggregation,

ON THE SHEEP RANGES

and by Cap and mein the other. It was planned
that Unit No. 1, composed of the afore-men-
tioned hunters, should split at a convenient
point on Figgins Mountain, thereby giving them
the advantage of surrounding the helpless game
and getting at one fell swoop what was desired
for our museum and other museums yet unborn.
This was to be a red-letter day to make up for
the first fluke pulled off on this summit a few
days previously. Cap and I, with colors flying
and spirits simply effervescing with anticipation
at what an awful calamity would befall the in-
nocent victims of Figgins Mountain on this day,
marched gloriously toward the opposite side of
the hill from that for which our companions were
destined. As we all crossed the boundary after
fording the White, our hunting today was in
Yukon Territory.

After separating from our companions Cap
and I followed the old Boundary Survey trail
until we reached the draw up which we had de-
cided to travel. Up to this point the going was
miserable—the ‘‘nigger-heads,” hummocks and
swampy ground making it very difficult and ner-
vous work for the horses. While we were slowly
riding up the draw leading thru the foothills of
our mountain Cap suddenly. stopped and waved
me back. “Sheep!” he exclaimed, dismounting
and leading his horse behind a protecting ridge.
The glasses showed that his guess was correct,
for a half mile away and 1,000 feet above was

Til

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

seen a band of six or seven rams. But they had
selected a great outlook point and we almost
despaired of ever being able to reach them.

We tied our horses at timberline and climbed
a 300-foot ridge to spy on them and figure out a
means of approach. We found that by dropping
down a little to our left we could gain the pro-
tection of a friendly ridge, behind which it looked
like we could climb pretty close to them. While
crossing the gulch to this ridge we opened up
some new country next to where the rams lay,
on the slopes of which we saw some ewes and
lambs, and which seemed easier for us to stalk
than the rams. As we needed lambs, an ewe
and some 2- or 3-year-olds for our groups, we
decided it would be a nice pick-up to get
within range of these, so we bent our energies
accordingly. After an hour of hard climbing,
first up the gulch and then up the side-hill, we
found ourselves on the side of the ridge over-
looking the sheep. This side-hill was almost a
precipice in steepness, and to make it worse, it
was composed of loose shale rock with the wind
blowing directly toward our quarry. For the
wind might not only figure as a factor in scent
carrying, but in sound carrying as well. The
piercing cold wind at the summit of this ridge
seemed to transform our sweaty shirts into icy
incrustations. It certainly did crystallize the
drops of moisture that fell from our chins, noses
and eyebrows into temporary jewel drops.

112

ON THE SHEEP RANGES

When we looked over the top of this ridge our
game was gone. Evidently the sound of the
sliding rocks had betrayed us. We considered
it a hard streak of luck, after the long stalk and
the hard, wearisome climb, which consumed
hours of time.

We therefore began a further ascent in an at-
tempt to come out above the sheep first seen by
us. But while rounding the mountain under the
rim that crowned its summit we glanced down
the ridge and saw a ram standing on a point of
rocks about a quarter mile away and 500 feet
drop below us. What should we do? Go after
this ram or the bunch we were stalking when we
saw it? Cap was in favor of the former plan—I
the latter—but I gave in, so we sneaked, slid and
fell down toward the ram—for it was rough going
—keeping, of course, out of sight on the opposite
side of the ridge.

When we reached the rugged projection on
which we had seen the ram, Cap looked over, then
drew back hurriedly with the excited remark
that he was lying almost directly below us, 40
yards away. Breathless, for fear he might be up
and away, I bent over just in time to see him rise
from his bed. While he was standing I fired, be-
ing fearful of hitting the rocky projections inter-
vening. As soon as I pulled the trigger I knew I
had overshot. He bounded away in a mad rush
amidst the bombardment of both Cap and my-
self, and altho I fired four more shots at him

113

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

and six pellets were sent from Cap’s gun,
all on the run, he was soon safe behind the
rim below us.

I was of course all broken up at my absolute
carelessness. Cap felt it, too, very keenly. It
proved the correctness of the old shooting adage
—never be too sure nor too quick in shooting at
game. We both ran to the hump below, around
which he disappeared, but the mountain scenery
and a blue sky was all we had punctured. Later
we saw him slowly picking his way up a ridge a
mile to the south of us. His route would cross
our proposed path to the horses about a half
mile ahead, so, with the sole consolation that we
might meet him while returning, we allowed our-
selves to get swallowed in the gulches out of sight
of him. However, he must have seen us and
dropped back into the timber, as subsequent
events proved. After an hour’s hard climbing
and down-sliding, too, we reached the horses at
s o'clock at the edge of timber, and were soon
traveling camp-ward. It felt good to sit in the
saddle again after so much hard climbing and
scouting. We were both on the lookout for our
ram while descending thru the timber. We
hadn’t traveled a quarter of a mile before Cap,
who was leading, gave a motion of silence, and
we slid off our horses. With the glasses I saw the
ram in the small timber. He was huddled under
a spruce that stood amidst the young balm of
gilead trees. Were it snowing, or raining, one

114

ON THE SHEEP RANGES

would imagine, by his position, that he had been
driven there by the storm.

Cap had told me before of the habits of rams
in sometimes hiding like this, but before me thru
the glasses, as I peered between the heavy foli-
age ahead, I saw the most perfect example of the
hunted ram driven in fear to his hiding place.

We planned that I should climb the hill back
of him by a roundabout course (he was 500 yards
away) and come down on him from behind and
above. Cap was to lie in ambush where we then
were, and we figured it out that if I frightened
him I would run him toward Cap. After an
hour’s climbing and stalking I had circled back
of him, and to my disgust I found that it was
impossible to approach closer without making
some noise in the loose sliderock; also that he
was down-wind from me. While coming down
upon his position from the rear I heard Cap’s
rifle crack three times, and when I heard his
shout I knew the ram was down.

Cap had gone to sleep during my long stalk,
and was suddenly awakened by the noise of the
fleeing ram thru the brush as it passed within
fifteen feet of him. Grabbing his rifle, he placed
two shots out of three in the animal at about 100
yards while it was traveling from him. When
he reached the ram he found it down, the .250
having smashed one hip and one shoulder ter-
ribly. Yet that seemingly invincible ram sat
with his head up and eyes animated, apparently

115

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

very full of life, until Cap cut his throat, not wish-
ing to bullet-mangle him any more. He was
about a five-year-old—with hardly a full curve of
horn—therefore a smaller ram than we took him
to be when first seen and fired upon. By 8
o’clock we had him measured and skinned and
meat and all packed on the horses. We arrived
at camp at 11:45, preceding the balance of the
party to camp by half an hour. Jimmy arose
from sleep and gave us hot soup and a fine supper
of sheep meat, potatoes and other good things.

When the other four hunters came in at 12:15
a. m. they were given a hearty reception, espe-
cially after they unbosomed the pleasing infor-
mation that they had separated the spirits of
six perfectly healthy sheep from their earthly
coils. Needless to say, they were, like us, hun-
gry, cold and tired, but there wasn’t anything
the matter with them that a hot supper couldn’t
cure.

After separating from Cap and me in the
morning they traveled to the farthest end of the
mountain (some five miles beyond the point
reached by us). At 10 o’clock they tied their
horses at timberline and all climbed together to
the summit, where it seems they had seen a bunch
of sheep while riding up. It took them until
4:30 p. m. to stalk their game and get close
enough to shoot. While climbing the mountain
they passed within 300 yards of two splendid
rams, but they were playing for bigger stakes, as

116

ON THE SHEEP RANGES

there were 170 sheep in one flock ahead and some
forty in another—so they passed up the rams.

While in the vicinity of the large flock Harry
and Longley stopped at a rock to wait until
William and Wooden should get to their position
close to the small bunch, before attempting to
fire. When William and his guide reached a good
position they were rewarded with standing shots
at 100 yards, after cork-screwing, crawling and
worming their way over some very rough and
dangerous places. William opened up first,
bringing down a big ewe, and wounding a lamb
which Wooden finished. Then Wooden fired,
killing a 2-year-old and a 3-year-old and bringing
down an ewe with an assisting shot from William.
This gave William and Billy five sheep.

Harry by this time was getting anxious about
his bunch. Soon he heard sounds like the bark-
ing of dogs emanating from the direction of his
son and Wooden. These boys were sure barking,
their object being to scare the sheep toward
Harry and Longley, who were hidden behind a
rock waiting for the opportune time to open fire.
This camouflage succeeded admirably, for the
flock was sent close enough to the hunters so
that Harry was able to open up on them at 100
yards. He brought down an ewe in splendid
style, which gave them all a total of six sheep
for their day’s work, which with Cap’s ram made
a grand total of seven—by far the best record of
any day’s work on the whole trip.

117

Fir min {Avee,
AY

BYR

i
i

Sixth Chapter

SHEEP, MOOSE AND CARIBOU

THE LAW ‘OF THE YUKON

This is the law of the Yukon, and ever she makes it plain:
“Send not your foolish and feeble; send me your strong and your
sane—

Strong for the red rage of battle; sane, for I harry them sore;

Send me men girt for the combat, men who are grit to the core;

Swift as the panther in triumph, fierce as the bear in defeat,

Sired of a bulldog parent, steeled in the furnace heat.

Send me the best of your breeding, lend me your chosen ones ;

Them will I take to my bosom, them will I call my sons ;

Them will I gild with my treasure, them will I glut with my meat;

But the others—the misfits, the failures—I trample under my feet.”
—Robert Service.

SIXTH CHAPTER
SHEEP, MOOSE AND CARIBOU
E should hardly have been human if

we were not tired the next morning—in
fact, we arose about how and when we
pleased. This long-distance hunting was begin-
ning to “get”’ us, for where the James branch of
our party hunted yesterday it was eleven miles
from camp. That was much too far to travel
and hunt, especially as it necessitated returning
to camp at midnight, besides another trip next
day by the packers for the hides, bones and meat.
This could have been avoided to a great extent
by side packs from main camp into closer prox-
imity to the game—a plan that both Harry and I
adopted when we hunted in this section on our
return trip.

Longley, Rogers, Wooden and Shorty left
camp at g o'clock to get the skins and meat of
five of the sheep killed the day previous (Harry's
ace hide and meat having been taken in with
the hunting party). These boys also hoped to
get a ram or two from among those that had
been seen the day before. At 7 p. m. Longley
and Rogers returned to camp, reporting that

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IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

they had left Wooden’s and Shorty’s horses at
an agreed-upon spot, owing to the inability of
the latter men to come off the mountain with
their companions.

All those of us who were not engaged in hunt-
ing or going after the meat and hides loafed
about camp that day, cleaning up, shaving, writ-
ing, oiling guns, etc. It was a disagreeable day,
even with us in a comfortable camp, and the non-
appearance of the two men worried us.

It started to drizzle and snow about 2 p. m.
and was raining when Rogers and Longley came
in. It rained nearly all that night in camp. At
11:30 p. m. Wooden rode into camp and reported
that he and Shorty had wounded a ram, and
that they followed it a couple of miles thru the
cliffs, but without success in finding it. When it
came time to leave for camp they had to go back
and up about two miles to where their horses
had been left by Rogers and Longley, so Shorty
suggested that he take a short-cut down to the
trail and that Wooden go after the horses and
pick him up on the way in. So they separated.
It was 7 o’clock when Wooden got to the horses.
When he reached a point on his course where
he thought Shorty ought to be he hallooed, fired
his rifle and then waited. Then he repeated the
same act again and again, waiting a reasonable
time after each signal for a response. Receiving
none, and believing that Shorty had walked

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SHEEP, MOOSE AND CARIBOU

ahead in the hope of being caught up with,
Wooden rode into camp.

I awoke in the night with a start after ee
heard the challenge of a bull moose. After
awaking I still continued to hear the same
“Waug-g-h,” and was about to jump up and
get my gun when the author of the noise must
have turned over on his side—for it was Harry
snoring. Next the mournful cry of Shorty’s dog,
Jimmie, broke the stillness). Who would have
thought that this hardened malamute, who
braved the rush of the stream and the rigors of
the winter cold without a murmur, would feel
the heart-pangs of loneliness at the loss of his
master for one night? But that old wolf-dog
sobbed out his soul-grief in the most piercing,
mournful doles, telling plainer than human
words of his sorrowful affliction. I arose and

artly dressed, thinking that I might comfort
i and at the same time stop the noise that
sooner or later would awaken everyone in camp.
He was sitting on his haunches under a tree by
the saddle-stack as I emerged from my tent, but
when he saw me he came swiftly to my side,
tail a-wagging. Never had I seen him so affec-
tionate. When I rubbed his coarse-furred head
and offered sympathy, he cried again and poured -
out his grief in those same piteous tones I had
heard before, as if his heart would break.

While stooping over him I thought I caught a

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IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

flash to my right, and, looking up, was surprised
to see a very fair demonstration of the Northern
Lights. Apparently it had continued to rain
during the night up to a short time previous to
my arising, as everything in camp was freshly
wet. But now the rain had ceased and it was
quite cold for an August night. (When morning
broke and the hills were covered with snow, and
a slow drizzle was in evidence at camp, I realized
that the cessation from rain during the night had
probably been of but short duration.)

While the extravagant color effect described
so lavishly by some writers was lacking, yet the
form of the lights was clearly visible. They took
the shape of wide, filmy ribbons stretched from
nearly overhead and radiating downward. The
center of the illumination was the north and
about midway between the north star and the
horizon. In tangent form it spread downward
like a great fan to the northeast and the north-
west, intermittently changing—disappearing and
reappearing—but all in such delicate shades as
to be only faintly outlined. There wasn’t to be
seen a rainbow tint in the whole effect, the colors
being of the grayish or misty order. It was the
only demonstration of these lights that I was
able to witness on the whole trip, they showing
more frequently and more brilliantly at other
seasons 0 a the year, I am told.

When morning came and there was no Shorty
in camp, all but the sourdoughs felt keen appre-

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SHEEP, MOOSE AND CARIBOU

hension for his safety. Visions of a crippled
Alaskan lying out under a tree in the cold and
snow began to appear before us. ‘“The old rat,”
muttered Cap in a jocular vein. “You couldn’t
hurt that old gopher! He curled himself under
a tree last night and is only waiting this morning
for the sun to dry the bushes. Then he’ll come
out of his hole like a prairie-dog and amble into
camp. ©

But Cap’s words didn’t console us, and we
insisted on his sending someone out to hunt for
Shorty. Such a thing as a broken leg or arm or
other injury in the hills is too common, we
thought, to allow us to forget him. Longley and
Wooden were sent out across the White and over
the boggy tundras where Shorty and Wooden
hunted the previous day, but in a couple of
hours they returned, soaked to the skin, with
the report that he couldn’t be found. The moun-
tains were white with snow, as well as the trees
near timberline, and without chaps one was sure
to get soaked from the wet and snow-covered
bushes and trees.

At 10 o'clock Longley and Wooden were again
asked to go look for Shorty, so they departed.
At 11:30 we saw the three crossing the White a
mile or two away, and our relief was inexpres-
sible. When he came in, Shorty explained that,
having missed Billy Wooden the evening before,
he preferred to siwash it under a tree for the
night rather than wade thru the wet underbrush

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IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

in the rain and snow and then wade the White
River to camp.

As the morning was now spent, we could take
no long hunting trip this day, so Cap and I took
a six-mile horseback jaunt down the river looking
for bears, but without result of any kind. In
fifteen minutes we picked enough blueberries to
make a nice ple.

Harry and Brownie went up the Kletsan for
moose and caribou, but saw nothing in the big
game line.

Jimmie’s ‘“‘break-fawst!” sounded next morn-
ing at 5 o'clock, as we decided before leaving for
other camps that we would give the sheep
another round. So at 6:10 a. m. the regular
cavalcade which had been crossing the White
River so frequently during the past week was
again seen to worm its way around the quick-
sand beds of this stream and then climb the 200-
foot bank on the opposite side, headed for Fig-
gins Mountain. In the mixed procession this
morning were Harry (accompanied by Longley
and Brownie), William, who was sponsored by
Wooden, and myself, chaperoned by Cap. We
journeyed to the farthest end of the mountain—
near where the James’s had made their killing
three days previously—with the exception of
William and Wooden, who dropped out of the
parade about half way along the mountain in the
hope of intercepting the ram that Wooden and
Shorty wounded two days before.

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SHEEP, MOOSE AND CARIBOU

We tied our horses a little above timberline
and separated, Harry and his guides going to the
left up the mountain, and Cap and I diverging
from the route of our companions and going up
the hill to the right. We all met at the boundary
monument on the summit, Harry reporting that
he had seen a sheep in the basin while ascending.
It later moved out of sight and, as he didn’t con-
sider the country inhabited by it as worth hunt-
ing, he and his guides continued to the summit.
We saw no sheep while climbing up. From the
top we all saw a band of about thirty to the
northeast, but too far away to go after. Other
bunches of from five to seven were also seen in
the same direction, all below us and far away.
Harry was discouraged, and, with Brownie and
Longley, departed for the horses, while Cap and
I decided we would like to hunt out the country
they had just covered, as well as some farther
ridges contiguous to it, in the hope that we might
run across the sheep that they had seen. So we
separated. Before we had gone 200 yards, how-
ever, we saw from the summit three sheep about
a mile away, close to the point where our com-
panions had seen the single sheep while ascend-
ing. These sheep were far below us, so we went
for them. »In about half an hour we had de-
scended the mountain and crawled up to the top
of the ridge which lay alongside the one on which
they were feeding, the gulch between us. Cap
thought they weren’t over 200 yards away, but

127

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

this here tenderfoot would have bet his Water-
bury that they were 400, and so informed Cap
midst a volley of warm adjectives from him that
were intended to tell me exactly where I stood as
a poor judge of Alaska distances.

Cap insisted that we couldn’t possibly get any
closer, while I contended just as strongly that
we could. A week or two later, while climbing
up the same ridge that these sheep were on—on
the last hunt of the trip—I proved to Cap that
we could have stalked them from the gulch and
got much closer than we did on this occasion.

After I had lost out as a distance guesser, I
argued against shooting at such a small target
as a lamb (they proved to be a ewe and two
lambs, but we needed no more ewes) at that dis-
tance. Cap was worked up to a little heat over
my slowness to shoot, so I decided to try. I
fired at one of the lambs, but as the ground was
damp I couldn’t tell where I was hitting, except
that I missed the game. Immediately the
mother and lambs began to climb to higher
ground on the ridge. We each fired some ten or
more shots at the fleeing youngsters when we
discovered that both of them had been hit. One
laid down and the other was tottering. Cap
said, ““Don’t shoot any more.” Soon the other
laid down also, and the mother looked down on
them with concern from the ridge above. We
felt sure of our lambs, and were much pleased,
as they were just what we needed to fill in on

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SHEEP, MOOSE AND CARIBOU

our sheep groups. But soon one arose and went
away with apparently a broken leg. Then the
other staggered to its feet and walked on. The
mother went ahead, urging them with all her
motherly devotion to follow. But the sick lamb
held back. The one with the broken leg (we sur-
mised it was broken from its actions) crossed the
gulch and climbed in its poor way the steep hill-
side to the left. During all this time we followed
as fast as our pumping lungs and thumping
hearts would permit, some 500 or 600 yards to
their rear. (While crossing the gulch after them
Cap remarked that I was wrong when I guessed
the distance at which we began shooting to be
400 yards, saying it was at least 500.) Before
we could climb within range of the crippled
lamb both it and its mother had gone over the
summit a half-mile away.

Then we began searching for the sick lamb.
I climbed the rocky hill opposite in order to get
a better survey of the field where the youngster
was last seen, using the glasses carefully. Cap
remained on the other side and looked over the
ground carefully, finally hunting out of my sight
behind the ridge. Then I heard the report of his
rifle and concluded he had fetched up with the
lamb. However, I divined differently when I
saw four sheep—two rams, a ewe and a lamb,
the latter our sick lamb suddenly come to life—
climbing the ridge above him. Then I knew he
was shooting at one of their number, especially

129

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

as I heard other shots later. After moving a little
to my right I located Cap and the object of his
fire, a ram, in the gulch a half-mile away. I
hurriedly went to him and found he had a nice
s-year-old ram down. In body it was a beau-
tiful, large animal—the largest we killed on the
trip—but his horns weren’t long enough to form
quite a complete turn. I estimated his weight
at 300 pounds, my comparison being made with
an ovis canadensis killed by me in Wyoming
once that weighed under the scales 325 pounds.

It was 4 o’clock when I reached Cap and his
ram. We were nine miles from camp, and as we
were to move on the morrow it was necessary
that we carry meat and all in. We measured it
and skinned it out, taking the good meat, there
being not much owing to the manner in which
Cap had pulverized it with his .250. It seems
after first wounding it the animal stood, very
sick, instead of attempting to lie down—a quite
common thing for a goat or a sheep to do, con-
trary to the members of the deer family, who
will lie down more readily. Cap was a little dis-
appointed over the size of the animal’s horns,
but was good enough to immediately then and
there offer to the museum a beautiful set of ovis
dalli horns that he had at home and which he
had planned on using some day for himself when
he should find a cape to suit them. These horns,
being larger than any we secured on the trip,
were greatly appreciated, and I thanked Cap

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SHEEP, MOOSE AND CARIBOU

with all my heart for his generous present.
These horns now adorn that identical hide in
our museum, and I do not hesitate to say that
in the completed state it is the largest and most
beautiful ovis dalli ram I have ever seen, either
in plaster or flesh.

We were a mile and a half from the horses,
but by carefully distributing the load of meat,
horns, hides, guns, cameras and glasses, we only
had to rest under it two or three times on the
way to our most welcome cayuses. It was a
boggy, marshy, bad ride to camp, but Cap
whisked us down so that we made it at 9:55
p. m.—the last hour in the dark thru the timber.

Next morning—August 28th—we packed up
and at 11 o’clock left our Kletsan camp, where
for seven days we had hunted moose and caribou
without success and white sheep with very good
results. We journeyed up the Kletsan about
two miles, then entered the timber to the east-
ward and crossed the Yukon boundary, reaching
our camp on the Generc, ten miles above its
junction with the White, about 7 o’clock. Our
camp was made in a pretty timbered spot a
quarter of a mile from the Generc and across it,
by the side of a small, clear stream, with the
St. Clair about half a mile east of us. Distance
traveled for the day, eighteen miles.

While traveling up the Kletsan this morning
from our sheep camp we noticed along the edge
of the forest where it borders the river bar a

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IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

fence constructed of spruce saplings tied to the
trees of the forest with bark and willow thongs.
We were told that this fence—probably four or
five feet high, of two or three stringers—was
built by the Indians and used by them and others
to corral the caribou on their migrating trips,
then to slaughter them for their meat and hides.
How true this is we had no absolute means of
knowing, but of one thing we felt certain—the
fence was, built by Indians, as it bore all the ear-
marks of their work. It was old and broken
down in many places, probably having been
built twenty years or more ago.

During the Klondike rush the market hunting
of caribou around Dawson was carried on very
extensively. As many as sixty-four horses,
some twenty-odd years ago, each drawing a set
of three double-ender sleighs, each sleigh loaded
with four caribou, have been seen on the water-
shed between the Yukon and McKenzie rivers
(headwaters of Klondike river), carrying the
carcasses to Dawson. This would make 768
caribou to a train. These caribou were sold to
miners and prospectors on the creeks around
Dawson, and in Dawson, at 20 to 35 cents a
pound. The tongues were preserved and sent
out of the country. Beef sold then for $1.25 a
pound.

About September each year the annual migra-
tion of caribou occurs. At that time they leave
their summer home in the _ tundra-covered

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SHEEP, MOOSE AND CARIBOU

ground, between the mouth of the McKenzie
and Pt. Barrow, and drift south. The first
snows drift in there so deep that they can’t paw
it from the tundra and muskeg, and they drift
to the better feeding grounds below. So down
they come in hundreds of thousands, passing in
their southern flight the head of Peel River,
head of Stewart River, head of Klondike, Pelly
and McMillan, as far south as Lake Atlin. This
drive usually follows the same route, covering ~
in the migration a space about twenty miles
wide. There are other bands of caribou inhabit-
ing the northwest part of Alaska (say, north of
the Kyukuk range) that migrate similarly to the
mainland just mentioned, and that cross the
Yukon River at different points, and that have
been seen by the thousands traveling thru Circle
City, Fairbanks and Fortymile. They go south
of Fairbanks and begin to return, as do the big
band, about April or May. They calve in June,
right in the tundra. They don’t always return
by the same route, but generally so, and go in a
slow, straggling, unorganized manner as com-
pared to that which characterizes their southern
journey, when they go fast, each bunch appar-
ently trying to get ahead of the other. The
Hudson Bay Company used to ship before the
Klondike rush from 1,800 to 2,000 barrels of
“deer tongue” (caribou) annually to Great
Slave, Lesser Slave Lake, etc., from there to
be shipped to Canada and England.

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IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

While all these things are sad to reflect upon at
the present time, twenty years later, yet in
twenty years from now we will feel just as much
ashamed of what is occurring in Alaska and
other places now as we now are at what happened
then. While much has been said of the Indians’
good habits of conserving game by eating every
ounce of meat killed, etc., yet after what I
learned of his ways while in the North I am com-
pelled to believe that his conservation is not so
much a matter of habit as of necessity. When
his larder is low and his stomach empty, it is
surprising what he will eat—the scraps, entrails,
fat and every portion of the animal. But let
“Poor Lo” get a chance to kill a band of caribou,
sheep or moose, when the hides and horns are of
commercial value, and he forgets when it is time
to quit shooting, often completely obliterating a
herd before he is thru. That is when his great
waste of meat is shown, as, naturally, most of it
is left to rot.

The morning following our arrival on the
Generc, Harry and Brownie left at 8 o’clock, go-
ing up the little stream at our door, with the
announcement that they would bring in a bull
moose. Cap and I went over to the St. Clair,
followed it up several miles, and returned by the
stream up which Harry had gone in the morning.
Some bear tracks and a porcupine were about
all of any general interest that anyone saw. We
had some amusement with the porcupine. We

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SHEEP, MOOSE AND CARIBOU

stood stark still when we first saw it twenty-five
feet away. It started to whine; we imitated the
noise and it turned and came up to within four
feet of us, sitting up on its haunches like a dog.
I took several pictures of it at four and five feet.

William, Billy and Rogers went out for moose
in the afternoon. The biggest game they saw
was a porcupine.

This camp and the small indication of sign
about it was a great disappointment to us, as we
had confidently expected to find moose and bear
here. Therefore, it didn’t take us long to decide
to move. The Young party, the year before,
had been very successful on moose and caribou
in this vicinity, and, as we had seen several
moose while riding into this camp on the evening
of our arrival, everything at first augured well
for a successful hunt in that vicinity.

At 11 o'clock the next morning, after packing
up, we silently and sadly stole away, entertaining
some hope that game would be found on Harris
Creek, a tributary of the Generc, flowing into it
a couple of miles or so below our camp. The
weather was now beautiful, being sunny and
warm, and the scenery sublime.

R. B. Slaughter, of 110 West Monroe street,
Chicago, in 1912, on Harris Creek, killed a car-
ibou head the beam of which measured 65
inches, having sixty-four points. He also secured
an ovis dalli on Mt. Natazhat with a 1514-inch
base and 44%%-inch curl.

85)

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

We journeyed twelve miles up Harris Creek
thru the greatest moose country that I have
ever seen, to be untenanted. Where had they
gone? Shorty surmised possibly they were down
on the Snag, some forty miles below. Others
believed they were yet too high to hunt success-
fully, and that when they came down we would
get them. Many conjectures were offered as to
the possible whereabouts of the herds and the
cause of their disappearance, but none of the
advice seemed to do us any good. We were a
week earlier than the Young party the year be-
fore, and that was offered as a possible excuse.
Yet, in corresponding with our guide before the
trip he had urgently requested us to come a week
before we did, so if we were now too early, the
question arose, how on earth would we have
fared should we have gone still a week sooner?
It was away ahead of the rutting season, and
that naturally militated some against us, but
what should we care about rutting seasons in
Alaska, we thought before leaving, where moose
are so plentiful? We had simply run against a
streak of hard luck, and at the time we felt that
there was nothing to do but to make the best of
it. Certainly we were willing hunters, for there
wasn’t a drone in our own party nor in the party
of our outfitters. The horse wranglers, headed
by Billy Longley, were up every morning at 4
o'clock to go for the horses; Jimmie, the cook,
usually rose about 4:30, while our own party

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SHEEP, MOOSE AND CARIBOU

were astir about 5:30 on the average. As we
were out hunting late of nights very often, it
may be seen that we at least “done time’ while
on the trip.

What surprised me most was the almost total
absence of fresh bear sign (there was plenty of
old). The bears apparently were not wild—to
see us—and, on the other hand, we were getting
so wild and wary of bear toward the end of the
trip that I believe we would have run from a cub.
Which reminds me of a fake foot racer of Wyo-
ming who later turned bear hunter. He had
thrown many running matches, as it seemed the
only way he could make a success of the game;
so one day while hunting Bruin with a friend a
bear took after him, running him pretty close to
his friend, who was a surgeon. As he went by
in the hottest race he had ever run the doctor
called from a protecting tree-limb: “For Gawd’s .
sake, tun, ome run!) 7Youd d fool,” re-
sponded Tom, between gasps, “you don’t think
I’m going to throw this race, do you?”

After traveling to a camp-site on Harris Creek
and seeing no sign of moose, Harry suggested
that instead of camping immediately and going
up to Tepee Lake, three miles, in the morning,
that we leave the outfit here while Cap, he and I
should go to Tepee Lake now, and if we found no
sign we would camp farther below and do our
hunting in that section on the morrow. So this
plan was agreed to. When we reached the lake

137

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

we were almost dumbfounded to find no sign
around its boggy, lily-padded shore, where moose
certainly would visit if they were in the country.
So, with heavy hearts, we retraced our steps
back to the packs, and, leading them down a
mile or two farther, camped in an open spot fifty
yards from the timber, on one of the forks of
Harris Creek.

From correspondence had with Mr. Young,
with Dr. Griffith and others, I had been led to
believe that the barren ground above Harris
Creek to the east was a great caribou range a
week or two later in the season. Hoping that
we might not be too early, Harry and Jimmy
Brown decided to hunt that country the follow-
ing day, while Billy Wooden and I took the same
kind of country, barren and boggy, on the other
side of Harris Creek. William and Rogers
hunted for sheep farther up Harris Creek, as
Harry, Cap and I had seen some on the moun-
tain to the left of Tepee Lake the evening before.
On my trip with Wooden we saw nothing but
some caribou and moose tracks a couple of days
old. We picked up an old set of caribou horns
for the group, and, returning at 4 p. m., we went
greyling fishing with Cap, getting twenty aver-
aging a pound in an hour or two with snell hooks
baited with meat, using willow poles.

Rogers and William came in before supper
with the information that “the sheep had seen
them first,” therefore, they went moose hunting

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SHEEP, MOOSE AND CARIBOU

—a sure proof, they said, that they didn’t get
game.

Harry came in with Brownie about § o’clock
carrying a 4-year-old bull caribou in the velvet.
When they came upon it (which was accom-
plished, Harry said, thru some very clever stalk-
ing by his guide) they thought it was a cow out
of the velvet, so Harry opened on it at seventy-
five yards. He downed it with a shot in the
paunch that ranged diagonally forward and
broke the shoulder—a very pretty shot, Brownie
said. Later he was able to crawl to within
fifteen feet of a sleeping caribou bull, larger than
the first, but he allowed it to go, as it was not
his intention to kill any more in the velvet. He
would, of course, not have killed the first one
had he known the horns were soft. (This de-
cision on his part, to kill no more in the velvet,
was reversed later when he was told by Rogers
that there was a possibility that the velvet horns
might be preserved and that such a group
would be a curiosity in a museum. Now, how-
ever, we learn, after consulting Mr. Figgins—a
fact which most of us felt certain of at the time—
that as velvet specimens these horns are a
failure.

139

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Seventh (hapter

MOOSE AND CARIBOU

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SEVENTH CHAPTER
MOOSE AND CARIBOU
ON Sunday, September 1, which was the day

following our hunting on the barrens above
Harris Creek, when Harry James killed his bull
caribou, we folded our tents and quietly slipped
away, following down Harris Creek and camp-
ing on the west bank of the Generc. There was a
certain sadness in our act, for it meant the turn-
ing homeward on what was so far an unsuccess-
ful trip. And yet the country was so beautiful,
the sun so splendid and the air so perfect that
none but a confirmed pessimist could help ap-
preciating it. I don’t believe I ever enjoyed a
horseback ride more than that one on Sunday,
September 1, 1918. There seemed to be just
enough woodland, the right contour of mountain,
the perfect touch of vista, the proper swing to the
stream below, the right trail undulation—for
this was a real trail, albeit a crude one—and the
perfect temperature and light to cause exhilara-
tion of spirit, and, as the poet hath said, “‘a pure
serenity of mind.” I felt a desire to drink in the
atmosphere and scenery in big gulps. Removing
the Stetson, and with one leg over the withers

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IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

in a restful position, I allowed everything to
soak in that would.

It was good to have the fresh Alaska air filter
through the thinning locks that bedecked the
upper appendage; and it didn’t seem bad, either,
to feel the morning glints from Old Sol smacking
the ivory-colored arid spots on the editorial
dome. It was a time for rumination and rhap-
sodizing—every condition conducing to a peace-
ful lethargy never found along the business trail.
And besides, it was Sunday.

The following day, Harry, Brownie, Cap and I
went up the trail three miles west of camp on
foot, moose hungry and determined. Later we
separated into pairs and hunted a fairly large
area, but drew only a blank. Harry and Cap
saw a moose, but he was able to leave with a
whole hide, no one even getting a shot at him
(or her)—we couldn’t see the animal clear enough
to determine the sex. I learned while hunting
big game,-:as has many another sportsman, that
if you can’t see the horns on a bull at a distance
of three hundred or four hundred yards, she has
none. Note.—My diary of this day reads:
Sept. 2, 1918, sun arose at 6:15—daylight, 4:15.
Sundown at 7:30—this of course by the day-
light-saving time.

Cap and I took our horses next morning and
started over the same train traveled the day be-
fore, only we went much farther, clear up above
timberline on the caribou barrens—where we

144

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wih

Upper picture—The author and 45-inch moose.
Middle—Grayling fishing on Harris Creek, Y. T.
Lower—A fly came in handy to sleep under at Skolai Pass.

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MOOSE AND CARIBOU

divided, he taking one route back to camp and
I another. As we separated at 10 o'clock it
gave each of us time for a nice long hunt alone.
The balance of the party, dividing, hunted the
timbered reaches next the Generc, both above
and below camp.

While the horses were a great help in carrying
us up the steep trail, we now would be better off
without them, as far as hunting was concerned.
After leaving Cap I bore downward toward the
timber, crossed a cafion, and as I reached the
forested area began to hunt. My method was
to tie the horse and make a circuit out from and
back to the animal, the horse being on the line of
the circle, not in the middle of it. Due care was
taken that I didn’t hunt down-wind from the
horse, of course. This circle was about half a
mile across. While leading my horse to a tying
tree for the third circle hunt, I came out upon a
bluff overlooking a stream, while across this riv-
ulet and three-quarters of a mile to the north
lay a timber-encircled lake. When I first glanced
at this body of water, a third of a mile long by a
quarter wide (with the naked eye), I didn’t see
anything the matter with it. However, a second
survey of it disclosed what my clouded vision
took to be a horse standing in the water twenty-
five feet from the opposite shore. There was
certainly something there that didn’t belong.
The next instant two bright-colored blades helio-
graphed to me the information that he was a bull

145

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

moose disporting himself in perfect ease and ab-
solute security at his summer and fall watering
place. Using the glasses, I saw it was a bull
moose, all right, apparently with a very fair set
of perfectly clean antlers. The white palms
glistened in the sunlight, giving them the ap-
pearance of being much larger than they were.
Standing knee-deep in the lake, between drinks,
he took long, leisurely glances around in the
different directions looking for any sign of danger
that might be manifest. Soon a smaller bull, in
the velvet, joined him, wading out into the
water about as far as his companion. In a few
minutes both slowly retreated into the forest.

I ran for my horse and pulled him down hill
to the stream. Crossing it, I led him toward the
lake into the timber and tied him. Then I ad-
vanced to the near side of the lake and from
behind a tree looked across with the glasses. I
peered into every opening among the trees, and
scrutinized studiously every little formation or
combination that looked like the head, horn, ear
or body of a moose. I almost gave up when I
saw something resembling an ear move. I kept
the glasses on it for minutes without further
result, all the while trying to build horns and
heads out of everything within a fair radius of
the object. It was back about twenty-five feet
from the edge of the timber, and as I stood about
four hundred yards away, it can be seen that I
had some contract on hand to look after an ob-

146

MOOSE AND CARIBOU

ject as small as a moose’s ear at that distance
and in that shadow-streaked timber. I waited
for what seemed an hour, but which was per-
haps only a few more minutes, for a repetition of
the same motion. Finally I was rewarded, for
that ear flapped again as naturally as any eood
healthy moose’s ear should. Then I detected
the hulk of his body lying behind a couple of
trees, as well as an outline of one of his horns.
He was in the shade, and hard to see. The flies
bothered him a little, but not so much as to
cause him to shake his head, but only the ear.

Owing to the very poor target he made from
here and the good chance there seemed of stalk-
ing him from the other side, I decided not to risk
a shot now, but to circle around and come down
on him from the opposite side of the lake. While
the side on which I stood was flat ground, the
other side was quite a hill. After marking care-
fully the spot occupied by my quarry I retreated
back to the horse and led him in a semi-circle
around the lower end of the lake, up on the side
of the ridge back of the lake and tied him about
a quarter mile from the moose. Everything was
favorable for a successful stalk, wind, weather
and sun, and I decided then and there that if
that old ruminant got away he would be a
charmed animal. I tried not to overlook any-
thing that would contribute to my success. It
was 11:30 when I sighted him, so I had all the
time I needed for a slow, careful stalk. The

147

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

weather was actually balmy and sun shining
brightly.

I had gone but a short distance from my horse
when I became disgusted at the rasping sound
made by walking on the dry moss, so removing
my boots and laying them on a stump, I con-
tinued in my stocking feet. When damp this
moss is an advantage in stalking game, but
when dry it gives forth a crunching sound like
that of walking on frozen snow.

I thought, owing to the landmark taken on
his position from the other side, that I would be
able to pretty accurately judge the location of
his bed. I had by this time come to the rim of
the hill leading down to the lake, a distance of
two hundred or three hundred yards away.
crept and walked down thru the timber, keeping
behind the greatest patches of trees and in the
swales, stopping every few feet to look more
carefully than I could do while moving. I was
so quiet in my advance that the creaking of the
leather strap on my camera carrying case
sounded to me like the hiss of a German bomb.
When I had approached to within about one
hundred twenty-five yards of the lake, and just
at about the time that I expected something
very sensational to happen, a squirrel saw me and
began a terrific tirade of abuse. I once had a
squirrel open up on me in exactly the same man-
ner while stalking a grizzly in Wyoming, and
while that very act, I believe, in that instance

148

MOOSE AND CARIBOU

was the cause of that particular bear’s demise,
yet I was not so sure that it would work the
same way on moose. A second after the squir-
rel’s call was sounded a very natural bush, one
hundred twenty-five yards in front, turned sud-
denly into a very animated set of moose antlers
that moved nervously, and the first act was on.
The particular spot where the body lay was con-
cealed by the foliage, but soon the antlers arose
to full height and moved out of sight to the left.
I ran like an Indian for twenty-five feet to my
left, as the foliage was too dense to see him from
my first position. I stopped as a likely opening
appeared in the timber, bent to a knee rest and
was gratified to see my moose, also walking to
the left. I had the sight on his shoulder in a
flash, but that little 25-foot run had got my
breath, and besides I was a little nervous, too.
This made the sight waver, so I pulled myself
together and said, “Old boy, you can’t afford
to miss this moose after traveling so far to get
him.” Iam a great believer, like the doctor, in
the efficacy of that first pill, for I would rather
have one good standing shot at an animal than
a half dozen running. Everybody is not built
that way, I know, for many men are nearly as
good on running game as on standing. So I
braced up on the second effort and was able
to hold the sight so steady that as soon as I
squeezed the trigger I knew I had my game. All
I could see was the big animal rear up and turn

149

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

in the opposite direction. Believing that he
traveled a short distance going in this direction,
but not knowing for sure, as the foliage hid him,
I fired two more shots at about the place I
judged he would be if he had kept going. When
I went down I found him dying from the first
and only shot that hit him.

The bullet struck him in the left side, passed
thru both shoulders—smashing the humerus
bone of each shoulder at exactly the same relative
point—and passed out through the hide of the
right shoulder. (The bullet was the regular
220-grain soft point .30 U. S. ’03.) The work
of this bullet was almost unbelievable. I would
have had doubts about its wonderful effect if I
hadn’t seen it. That this bullet could go through
the two humerus bones of a big moose, contin-
uing through his body, tearing bones and flesh
so frightfully, and yet be able to remain intact
sufficiently to make its exit on the opposite side
thru a hole in the skin not larger than an inch
in size, was something very remarkable, I
thought. While I have killed grizzly bears,
moose and elk with this same shell before, and
never feared for the result, yet now that I had
before me this latest and most wonderful demon-
stration of its execution I am stronger for it
than ever before—and, in the language of the
vernacular, that is “going some.”

I had been very fortunate in my shooting so
far, my first four animals being killed by a single

150

MOOSE AND CARIBOU

bullet each, and every one of them practically
dropping in their tracks—a record that speaks
volumes for the .30 U. S. in both ’o6 and ’o3
ammunition—the ’o6 being used on sheep and
goats and the ’03 on moose. I am sorry I cannot
record such clean work for my subsequent
shooting on this trip.

It is a matter of regret with me that records
were not kept of the execution of the shells used
by the other members of our party. I have fre-
quently mentioned in this narrative the wonder-
ful smashing effect of Cap’s .250, which usually
churned up the insides of an animal fiercely,
especially if hit in the paunch or thereabouts.
Harry’s and William’s autoloading ammunition
gave great satisfaction, I know, from the reports
voiced about the campfire, as well as the .35
which was used by them occasionally; but a de-
tailed report of each shot would be of inestimable
value here, and I regret exceedingly my inability
to produce it.

It was 11:30 a. m. when I saw this bull, and
2 p. m. when I killed him—too and one-half
hours of the most interesting and enjoyable
stalk on big game that I have ever experienced.

hile some very large moose heads have been

secured in the White River country—as witness

three that Mr. Corcoran killed there two years

ago of 6214, 58, and 53-inch spread respectively

—yet on the whole I think the spreads are very

narrow considering the palmations, size of the
161

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

bulls, etc. In 1917 Mr. Young’s party killed
eight very nice bulls, and yet the largest only
had a 52-inch spread. There is no doubt that,
in order to get the largest moose antlers, one
must go to the Kenai Peninsula, and yet of
course the difference in the largest White River
heads and the largest Kenai heads (in spread)
would probably not be more than a very few
inches. )

I reached camp at 6 o’clock, where the usual
hot soup, venison and other good things were
devoured with keenest relish. None of the
other hunters saw any game whatever in their
travels that day.

The morning following, Rogers, Longley, Cap
and I went up to the moose with pack horses—
the former two to skin it out and bring it to
camp, and CapandItohunt. After taking some
photographs we measured the animal—a very
ordinary sized moose—with the following results:
Nose to tip of tail, contour over body, Io ft.
4 ins.; shoulder bone to hip bone, 5 ft.; shoulder
top to bottom straight through (brisket to top
of withers), 31 ins.; thickness through shoulders,
19 ins.; thickness thru hips, 16% ins.; height at
withers, 6 ft. 7 ins.; spread of horn, 45 ins.; eye
to end of nose, 18 ins.; palmation length, 2 ft.
3% ins.; palmation width, 14 ins.; points, 20.

At 10 o'clock Cap and I left the boys to con-
tinue their work and began our day’s hunt, each
selecting different routes, afoot. I traveled

152

ua} S JSTWUApIXe} IYI Ul SUaLUTDads BuIUUIyAS

MOOSE AND CARIBOU

northward through an ideal moose country, pass-
ing half a dozen lakes and covering about twelve
miles, but without seeing anything larger than
a bird. Cap arrived at camp a little after
me, reporting that he had seen a bear that
walked as if crippled. He saw the brute at
a distance of seven hundred yards, but seeing
no way of getting closer, made no attempt
to stalk it.

Harry and Wooden went up the river for
moose today, to a country visited yesterday by
William and Wooden. Many fresh tracks were
seen, but no game. William and Jimmie went
down the river, and while they saw some caribou
on the bar, they were at too great a distance and
surrounded by such unfavorable conditions for
stalking that it was useless to attempt to get
up to them.

On September 5th (the next morning) Harry,
William, Billy and Jimmy went down the river
for caribou. They succeeded in bringing down
three—all in the velvet—a cow, a 3-year-old and
a yearling. Jimmy crippled the cow first by
breaking her leg, after which Harry finished her.
William made a beautiful shot on the 3-year-old
bull, bringing him to earth at five hundred yards
while the animal was on the full run. Those
who saw the shot said that it was not only a
very creditable one for William, but a most
spectacular sight as well. William also killed
the yearling.

ee)

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

Here I may as well record a feeling that I ex-
perienced many times on this trip—brought to
mind thru mention of William’s good shooting
at the bull caribou: It was a source of much
regret with me that I was not permitted to wit-
ness some of William’s shooting—also of Harry’s.
But as we were each day hunting separately
when we secured game, I was deprived of the
pleasure of joining my companions in their mo-
ments of ecstacy after bringing down a game
animal—as well as of having them share with
me in my delights on such occasions. It seems
we all suffered the hardships together, but were
compelled to enjoy the thrills separately. Of
course, they usually had their guides with them,
as I had mine, but it would have seemed just a
little nearer home if we could have had one or
two of the party along when these ecstatic
moments arrived.

Hubrick and I had the only cameras in the
outfit, with the exception of a Graflex carried
by Rogers, the ‘‘combination” of which he lost
early on the hunt through his inability to change
the plates. Thus the game killed by the other
members of the party was not photographed,
as none of it was taken to camp whole.

I should certainly have enjoyed seeing William
topple over that bull as it swung at full speed
across the bar, if for no other reason than to
record the event as I saw it. William was an ex-
ceptional young man in camp and on the trail—

154

MOOSE AND CARIBOU

the coolest-headed, most reserved chap in the
face of adversity or an emergency I have ever
been out with, and one of the most obliging and
uniformly courteous companions imaginable.

On this day Harry had a very distressing ex-
perience and one that might have turned out
disastrously with a less careful man. He and
Jimmy Brown were stalking a caribou on ‘the
river bar of the Generc, but from different direc-
tions, each trying to drive it toward the other.
They were separated by about five hundred
yards, and William and Billy (together) occupied
another position about the same distance from
Harry as Jimmy was. The three parties thereby
formed the three points of a triangle. Suddenly
Jimmy disappeared from Harry’s view in a
“wash” of the bar. For some time he remained
out of sight. Then, glancing toward the position
occupied by William and Billy, who had re-
mained concealed from view up to this time,
Harry saw the black, uncovered head of Billy
projecting above its “hiding place in the bar.
Thinking it was Jimmy, who had sneaked up to
this position, Harry immediately released all
thought of Jimmy as being in his old location,
and fired in that direction occasionally as the
course of the animal justified. It was lucky of
course that no one was hurt. The incident 1s
recorded here for the lesson that it may be to
other hunters who may some time find them-
selves in the same position under similar con-

Le)

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

ditions. Of course in this instance no one was
at all to blame for what happened.

On this day Cap and I crossed the Generc
early in the morning. This is a glacial stream,
the bar (or bed) of which is two miles across,
being cut up by many channels, and very swift
flowing. We climbed the mountain on the op-
posite side of the Generc for a hunt in the car-
ibou country. We separated at the foot of the
mountain, going up separate draws. After I
reached the top—a great barren, rolling country
—TI was attracted first by the snort of my horse
and later by a couple of dark objects that were
lying down four hundred yards ahead, in the
direction in which the horse had scented the
“danger.”’ As I dismounted and stood behind
my horse they (a cow caribou and yearling)
came toward me much as a curious antelope
would approach a “flagging” outpost. They
were both in the velvet—the yearling with horns
not over eight inches long. As I didn’t care for
them for our group—both being in velvet—I
didn’t make any attempt at stalking. They
moved around me in a quartercircle, and after
all of us (even the horse, who was very much
perturbed) had satisfied our curiosity they dis-
appeared in a swale beyond and were seen no
more.

I soon saw Cap thru the glasses on another
mountain opposite me, and as he was working
down I also descended. I had covered about

156

MOOSE AND CARIBOU

all the country within reach, and as the after-
noon was waning I decided that I had done about
all the hunting for the day that I cared to. Be-
sides, finding these caribou yet in the velvet had
no exhilarating effect on my spirits, as it seemed
when we did actually find game that we might
kill it was not in the condition desired—some
hard luck. So I kept on descending, hoping to
meet Cap below, he soon being swallowed up
from view in the timber. It was not, however,
until I was well on my way to camp in the heavy
timber that I heard him calling me from an
eminence on my back track. He had found my
trail and was hurrying to catch me. He saw a
cow moose and calf in the timber while coming
off the mountain, but feared that some shots I
had fired to give him my location might have
scared them, so thought it unnecessary to go
back. Besides, it was a great distance and quite
a climb to where they were—too far for us to go
and get to camp that night.

On the rest of our way down we followed Car-
ibou Creek, where I was surprised to see many
tracks of ewes and lambs far below timberline—
also, near the bed of the Generc, at least one
thousand feet below timberline, the partly de-
voured carcass of a lamb that evidently had been
killed by eagles. Close to this lamb there were
many sheep tracks, showing that the habits of
these animals on this mountain must be some-
what different from that of their brothers on the

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

other ranges. While camped on this crest five

ears before with Messrs. Vereker and Cad-

ury, two English sportsmen hunting under his
guidance, Cap had noticed that the sheep were
in the habit of passing his camp in the timber
every day. As they had plenty of water above,
their object could not have been for the purpose
of finding drink; possibly some especial browse
in that locality was the attraction. We reached
camp at 7 o'clock.

We all drew blanks the next day. Harry and
Jimmy went down the Generc for caribou. They
saw two, but as they were about the same as to
size and sex as those secured the previous day
they did not molest them. William and Billy
went up the Generc, but the signs not being right,
they returned early. Cap and I climbed the hill
in the direction of my moose killing, but the
ubiquitous ill-omen seemed to be with us, so we
marched down the hill again and to camp, de-
ciding then and there that if there were any
more moose or caribou thereabouts they were so
scarce as to be not worth the time and labor
required to go and get them.

The next morning saw us working like beavers
packing up and getting ready to move back to
our old sheep camp on the Kletsan, hoping that,
either while en route or at that camp we might
see some encouraging moose or caribou sign; or,
if we should not, then we planned hunting there
a few days for sheep. Harry and I, with about

158

MOOSE AND CARIBOU

an hour’s start of the outfit, traveled on horse-
back over the barrens above timberline a little
ways above the trail taken by the packs, hoping
to be able to sight some caribou on the way.
After going a few miles and when a short dis-
tance above timberline, we espied what we took
to be a caribou cow and calf at a distance of five
hundred yards. Our heads only showed above
the ridge-line as we advanced, so they did not
see us. Dismounting, we put the glasses on
them. Unfortunately we were facing the sun,
and therefore they appeared as black animals
without horns, with clear outlines but no detail.
As our thoughts were of caribou it didn’t enter
our minds that they were anything else—failing
to consider that even the cow caribou had horns
—so, not desiring any cow or younger specimens
of that species, we boldly walked out in full view.
They then saw us and trotted away. As they
didn’t look just right, I used the glasses again.
As soon as my eye fell on them now I saw they
were moose. They were going fast by this time
and away from our traveling direction, but to-
ward the trail of the packs, so, concluding that
some member of the outfit might pick them up,
we didn’t attempt to follow them. Besides, it
would have been useless in their frightened state.

We resumed our travel toward the Dalton
cabin, on the Kletsan, stopping to ‘“‘bile the
kettle’ en route. In his daily hunting trips on
this expedition Harry had been following this

oe)

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

custom—either he or the guide carrying a tea-
pot and the necessary accessories for the oc-
casion. It was the first ‘“‘kettle-biling’” I had
done since hunting in New Brunswick, and it
didn’t seem bad. Passing the Dalton cabin we
lumbered down the remaining eight miles to our
Kletsan camp, which we found occupied by
Dr. J. F. Hill, of Kennecott, and his guides, Con
Miller and G. A. Gallup. The pack outfit fol-
lowed us in almost immediately. As it was now
late in the day it was necessary for us to make
camp here, at least for the night, but we informed
the genial doctor (to whom, by the way, Harry
had a letter of introduction) that we would
move on the morrow. This action, however, he
refused to tolerate, at the same time telling us
that we must remain right where we were until
we had finished our hunting; that he had secured
two nice rams (one of which—a beauty—lI later
photographed with its captor), and that he
would feel grossly insulted if we should move.
This splendid spirit assured us, so we decided to
remain, at least for a few days. Dr. Hill had
already finished his sheep hunting, having
secured his rams at the head of the Kletsan,
near where I got the small ram and ewe, and
from now on he intended to hunt only for moose.
He informed us that he was due in McCarthy
the same day we were (September 16) so it was
nice to think we should have his company back.

That evening we ‘‘mixed medicine” with Dr.
Hill around the wigwam until a late hour, during

160

MOOSE AND CARIBOU

which we talked over our proposed sheep hunt of
the following day. He said that when he had se-
cured his rams a few days before there were others
left, and he further stated that he thought these
might yet be found in nearly the same place.

The question that now arose was this: Of the
two available hunting grounds that could be
covered from this camp—the Upper Kletsan
and Figgins Mountain—which should we at-
tempt? Harry had asked me to accompany
him and his guide, Jimmie Brown, to the Upper
Kletsan, and I had concluded to go with him
(allowing the other members to hunt for moose)
when Cap suggested that we were foolish to at-
tempt that trip when we had such good hunting
as Figgins Mountain afforded. This started a
discussion which ended in Harry suggesting that
we split—he and Jimmy to go to one place and
Cap and I to the other. This seemed agreeable
—the idea being to siwash it the first night and
thereby be able to hunt two days. Now the
question that remained to be settled was—who
should go to Figgins Mountain and who to the
other point? I gladly offered to give Harry his
choice, which he reluctantly accepted in favor of
the Upper Kletsan. When I say “reluctantly”
in this connection I say so advisedly, for Harry
is slower in accepting favors than in extending
them. Big-hearted and jolly, it was but natural
that on this trip he should prove himself the
gentleman-sportsman which in our home city I
had always found him to be.

161

Eighth Chapter

RAMs AND CARTE OU

H
a e ri eas

ois
wee

r y

antl

EIGHTH CHAPTER
RAMS AND CARIBOU

‘T HE morning of September 8th in our camp
broke with great preparation and expectancy
by at least two members (Harry and myself) and
our guides. This was to be the last favorable
opportunity that either he or I should have of
getting game on the trip. We needed a good ram
or two for our sheep groups, and also a lamb to
fill. Besides these, we hoped to be able to bring
back a personal trophy—not to be considered,
however, until we should have filled the mu-
seum’s demands, if that were possible. While
we were on this two-day trip it was hoped that
William, Rogers and the others, by their com-
bined scouting, should be able to fill on the moose
and possibly the caribou group. So, as we each
went our separate ways that morning—Harry
and Jimmy up the Kletsan and Cap and I (with
Longley along to pack our tent and belongings)
headed for Figgins Mountain—it is safe to say
that we had much the feeling of the son leaving
the old homestead to seek his fortune after
bidding the folks goodby.
During our morning ride along the side of
165

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

Figgins Mountain, Cap and I saw several small
bunches of sheep, easily picked out with the
naked eye. At noon we camped eight miles
from main camp, in a draw protected by the
last remnant of trees available near timberline,
pitched our tent, ate a hurried lunch and, after
allowing Longley to go to permanent camp (with
advice to return tomorrow afternoon for us), we
were ready to talk sheep. As we faced the moun-
tain, to our right reposed a band of ewes and
lambs a couple of miles away on the side of a
ridge that sloped down from the mountain. To
the left, the same distance, on another ridge
similarly sloping from the main eminence, lay a
bunch of six or seven rams. Ordinarily those
rams would have looked the most tempting of
the two chances open to us, but there were other
things to consider. We really needed a lamb
worse than a ram, and besides, we had it figured
out that we could go up that afternoon and get
our lamb, and be able to bag a ram or two on
the following day.

So, very bold-heartedly we approached the
draw which led to the ewes and lambs. It was
1:30 p. m. when, nearly two miles from camp, at
a point where it cafioned up, we saw the ewes
and lambs cross the little. cafion about 500 yards
ahead of us. There were five ewes and two
lambs in the flock. We circled to the opposite
side of the gulch from that to which they were
crossing and crawled up behind a rock 300 yards

166

RAMS AND CARIBOU

from them. I took the first shot at one of the
lambs, but missed. Then Cap opened fire, after
which we both continued to shoot until each of
us had probably sent six or eight shots after that
little inoffensive ovis dalli. While it didn’t then
look as if we hit it at all, we made it very un-
pleasant for the little boy until finally Cap
toppled it over just as it was crossing the crest
of the ridge with a shot in the head. When skin-
ning it out we noticed that it had also been shot
thru the intestines. An examination of the hide
both in the field and at the museum shows that
this hole was made by a hard-pointed bullet, and
while Cap was using soft points in his shooting
(and I hard points), yet he says he remembers
shoving in a hard-point bullet at some time
during the fusillade. Therefore, we shall prob-
ably never know who hit this youngster in the
stomach, but it matters not anyway. Cap did
some splendid work in bringing down the little
fellow at the finat distance at which he was hit—
about 400 yards, on the run. We reached our
siwash camp with the skin, bones and meat of
the lamb at 5 o’clock.

We arose at 5 the next morning and at 6:30
started for the summit with rams as our sole ob-
jective. The crest of the mountain toward which
we climbed was semi-circular in form, leaving an
amphitheater-shaped depression within the hol-
low of the mountainside. Toward this hollow
we climbed, passing en route the ridge from

167

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

which, on our inward trip, we had made such a
mess in shooting at the two lambs recorded in
an earlier chapter. We climbed this ridge, as it |
led up to the rim of our goal, and when about
half-way up we saw seven sheep on the opposite
side of the ridge. They proved to be young rams
and ewes, so we left them undisturbed.

We finally reached the summit, 2,500 feet
higher than our siwash camp, and continued
to follow around the semi-circular rim. Soon we
reached a point from which we saw sheep with
the glasses about three miles away and far below
us on the opposite side of the mountain from
camp. As we neared the precipice of the sum-
mit we detected other scattering bands below us,
until finally the slopes of that mountain for a
square mile or two were dotted with white
specks. We stood at one point and counted
eighty-eight ewes and lambs, but not a ram
seemed to be in evidence. They were peacefully
feeding, or lying down, in bunches of twos, threes
and up to ten, with here and there a single sheep.

We nearly frightened a little lamb to death.
It was first seen at about fifty feet below us, and
we, being unobserved, were able to come on it
rather suddenly. When we showed ourselves
a swooping eagle from the skies could not have |
had a more demoralizing effect on that young
sheep. It simply tumbled all over itself getting
to its mother. The very small proportionate
number of lambs seen before us (not nearly as

168

RAMS AND CARIBOU

many as of ewes) bore strong testimony to the
terrible toll that the eagles take of the young
sheep. I mentally resolved at sight of this con-
vincing evidence to begin a new and unending
warfare on these piratical birds. While their
damage to sheep life is proverbial, even in the
States, I don’t believe any given area in Mon-
tana or Wyoming has one-tenth the number of
eagles that is found in a similar area in Alaska
and Yukon Territory. They are to be seen there
almost continually. Bounties on eagles should
be placed sufficiently high as to reduce their
number below the present point of danger to
mountain sheep and other game. The present
bounty on these birds in Alaska is only 50 cents
—it could better be $5.00.

As we were after rams, the pastoral scene be-
low had no interest for us beyond the enjoyment
of it and the instructive feature connected with
it; therefore, we reluctantly turned from the
beautiful spectacle and faced toward the bolder
summits of ramland. We crossed a “saddle”
and soon found ourselves on top of a very rugged
peak with precipitous, black sides. To the far-
ther point of this we walked and took a peep into
the abyss, or cafion, below. The first glance dis-
closed six nice rams lying together on a grassy
slope, 1,000 feet below and almost immediately
beneath us. It was now 1:30 p. m. and Cap felt
a little dubious about our making the stalk and
getting our rams in any seasonable time at all.

169

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

The day was clear and comparatively calm, and
Cap guessed that if we could slide off the moun-
tain on the east side (the rams were south of us)
the wind would be in our favor for the stalk. A
look down the east side showed it to be a rather
precarious drop. In fact, we might find that it
could not be made at all. For over 200 feet from
the top the drop was almost perpendicular.
Only by following fissures and taking advantage
of projecting “‘steps’”’ could we hope to descend.
Cap didn’t think we could make it, but we per-
severed, and finally found ourselves successfully
worming our way down. Once this ledge was
negotiated, the rest seemed easy. We were soon
down on the steep, grassy slopes where the un-
even contours afforded excellent stalking ground.

We approached to within 500 yards of the
bunch, which by this time had arisen and were
working in a quarterly direction our way, slowly
feeding. They were moving like snails, or so it
seemed to the two hunters located eleven miles
from permanent camp who expected to get in
before midnight. They were feeding toward a
slight rise, and as their course would take them
below and beyond it, we awaited eagerly the
time when the little knoll would cover them, ex-
pecting at that moment to make a dash for some
projecting rocks a couple of hundred yards
nearer them. We dared not now make such a
sneak for fear of exposing ourselves. From their
present snail-like progress we surmised it would

170

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uaundads a91u B puke JOYINE ZY]. —2|PpI *S422A\ XIS JO} apoge IYsIu siy pue soue f ‘aIyW—einyoid yaTq

RAMS AND CARIBOU

take them at least half an hour to work under
cover, and each minute of that thirty was golden
to us, who begrudged every delay they made.
We lay behind some projecting rocks awaiting
developments. I heard a gurgling sound and
looked back to find Cap asleep. In about the
conjectured time one of the rams vanished be-
hind the knoll. A s50-foot blanket would cover
the remaining five as they, too, disappeared. I
awoke Cap with a slap and we were soon moving
fast toward our goal behind the rocky ledge. We
followed this projection fifty yards, then sank
into a swale, which we followed a ways and
finally came out above them about 250 yards
away. Cap spied on them and said he could kill
one from where we lay. I advised a further
stalk, and as it seemed favorable owing to a
slight depression lying for seventy-five yards
ahead of us, we crept and slid toward them until
we were about 150 yards away. I raised up and
saw, for the first time, that they were disturbed.
My first shot standing, I am ashamed to say,
missed. Cap said he would hold his fire until I
had one down. My second shot piled one of
them up, but he was soon up and moving. By
this time they were all going. Cap missed his
first shot, a most difficult one at best, but his
next knocked one over. Then I hit one, bringing
him down, but he was up again. He walked
slow, as he was hard hit. Cap chased after the ~
fleeing ones and on the run at 400 yards he was

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

able to bring another down. I remained back
and finished my two wounded rams, while Cap,
not knowing that I had killed these crippled
ones, kept firing until he had two down. ‘This
made four total—plenty for the museum and for
personal trophies. All the rams killed by us had
full curls of horn and base measurements around
13% to 14 inches, very nice average ovis dalli,
8 to Io years old.

Intending to dress the two that I had killed, I
descended into a little cafion where lay the first
one, and after he was gralloched I climbed to-
ward the other, when I heard Cap’s voice calling
me from far up the draw on our homeward
course. He called so long and persistently that
I started for him, leaving my other ram un-
touched, as well as passing one of his on the way
that had not been dressed. I couldn’t under-
stand Cap’s anxiety (for at first, while he was
out of sight, I feared that he might have had an
accident); but when after a half-hour’s climbing
I reached him he said we must hurry if we were
to get to camp before midnight—that it would be
all right to leave the animals out overnight
without dressing them.

After congratulating Cap on his wonderful
shooting (for it was an exhibition that brought
forth my greatest admiration, owing to the dis-
tance at which he killed his two sheep—around
400 yards—and the fact that they were traveling
fast), we climbed up the divide toward camp.

172

RAMS AND CARIBOU

It was 5 p. m. when we crawled out of this “‘pot-
hole” onto the saddle above, and 6 o’clock when
(with the assistance of Longley, who had come
to meet us with the saddle horses) we reached
our siwash camp. It took us just twenty minutes
to pack our tent, bedding, etc., on the horse, and
at 8:30 we reached our permanent camp, across
the White River.

Here we learned of Harry’s failure on game
while on his siwash trip on the Upper Kletsan
with Brownie. It seems they made temporary
camp on the afternoon of the first day on one of
the tributaries of the Kletsan that headed in the
foothills of Mt. Natazhat. After lunch Brownie
took a reconnoiter up farther toward the moun-
tain and soon discovered some rams. He hur-
ried back to camp to tell Harry, but by the time
he arrived it was found too late to go for them
that day, so it was planned to get an early start
on the morrow.

Next morning it seems Brownie couldn’t tell
positively which mountain or ridge he had seen
the sheep on. This upset the plans so com-
pletely that they decided to abandon the idea of
going for these rams, but to skirt the mountain
to the west in the hope of finding others and
return by way of Camp Creek. This plan was
followed, but without seeing any game at all.
Consequently Harry was a very much dis-
couraged man when he arrived at camp and our
heartiest sympathy went out to him. He had

173

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

fully counted on getting a ram, for either the
museum or himself, and had worked hard for it.

During the two days that we were gone Wil-
liam and Billy Wooden hunted moose. The
first day they covered fifteen miles on foot and
the second twenty-two miles (sixteen of which
was afoot), and, while the section hunted was
the best moose country in that vicinity, they
failed to even see an animal.

Rogers and Shorty, on the second day of our
absence, went out for moose, and while taking
a rest in sight of a likely looking lake Shorty fell
asleep. Soon Rogers saw something move at the
shore of this lake and finally detected three car-
ibou there—a big bull and three smaller bulls,
all with clean antlers. This, indeed, was a find
for our taxidermist, and with true zeal and
Indian-like stealth he removed his shoes and
approached them in his stocking feet. The car-
ibou were feeding on a bar at the edge of a lake,
perfectly unmindful of the impending danger.
Al was able to reach a spot 175 yards from them
and opened up on the big bull with his .303. The
first shot broke the animal’s front leg, the next
came within a few inches of his heart, and the
third hit the heart. The fourth shot broke his
hind leg. One shot six inches from the heart
finished one of the other bulls.

Shorty, awakened by the bombardment, after
dreaming that he was hunting goats from an
aeroplane, jumped into his senses and tore down

174

RAMS AND CARIBOU

to the lake in haste to congratulate his lucky
companion. William and Billy, who were hunt-
ing moose in that vicinity, attracted by the
shooting, came over and were delighted to note
the nice pair that Rogers drew. He and Shorty
remained with the animals, skinning them out
and packing up the meat, bones and hides, ar-
riving in camp at midnight. As this was the
first and only game killed by Al, he was warmly
congratulated by all of us over his splendid suc-
cess. The measurements of antlers on his big
bull were as follows: Length of beam, outside
curve, 52 in.; spread, 37 in.; points, left side,
IMM hehe Tooin:

This day one of the packers killed a cow moose
eee in size and pelage made a good mate for my

ull.

The following morning I left camp in company
with Bill Longley and Jimmie Brown for the
scene of our sheep killing of the day before. We
left camp at 8 o’clock and reached the game
(eleven miles away) at 1. When we found the
rams, we saw, to our disgust, that the eagles had
scratched and torn much hair from the bodies
of three of them, leaving the other unharmed.
As I rounded a turn in the cafion where my first
ram lay I saw a big golden eagle perched on the
carcass. I could easily have killed the bird if I
had taken my gun, but, having secured all the
sheep we desired, I walked down the 300 yards
to the ram unarmed. When I reached the sheep

175

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

I found a patch a foot square on the side of the
belly denuded of hair, apparently picked off with
the bill. The entrails were found just as I had
left them the evening before, untouched, while
the opening in the body had also not been
touched. Where the hair was picked off the skin
was unharmed, the object in tearing off the hair
apparently being one of mischief rather than of
food supply. The other two rams were damaged
similarly to the one just described, the skin on
the bodies in no case being punctured—a pretty
sure indication that the eagles of Alaska, altho
alae in great numbers, do not suffer much
rom scarcity of food.

Later, when we returned to camp and de-
scribed the work of the eagles, one of the men
remarked that it was no wonder—after leaving
the animals out over night without dressing
them. - It seemed to be the impression also
among others with whom [ later conversed on
the subject that eagles would damage undressed
animals, but not those which had been dressed.
However, this theory is proven false by the fact
that the one which I gralloched was spoiled the
worst, while they left unharmed one which had
not been dressed.

As three of these specimens were useless to
the museum, it was arranged that I should take
the two killed by me as personal trophies and
Harry the remaining one. Their usefulness for

176

RAMS AND CARIBOU

wall mounts was in no manner impaired, as none
of the necks or shoulders were spoiled.

Most all the rams killed by us carried horns of
the diverging type. As to the terms “‘narrow”’
and “diverging” as used to describe the character
of spread in sheep horns, there does not seem to
be a perfect unanimity of understanding among
sportsmen on the significance of the terms. For
instance, one set of sportsmen (the writer in-
cluded) has classed as “narrow” the heads of
narrow spread, and as “‘diverging”’ those of wide
spread. Charles Sheldon, author of ““The Wil-
derness of the Upper Yukon”’ and other books,
and who has given deep study to the big game of
the North, says that insofar as his use of the
terms is concerned, it 1s a question of angles
wholly—with the cheek of the animal as the
perpendicular. When the horn sweeps downward
approaching this perpendicular (some horns, I
believe, almost parallel it) he classes it as the
“narrow” type. As horns sweep outward to-
ward a right angle they diverge away from the
perpendicular. This type he calls “diverging.”
Thus, a set of horns with an exceedingly wide
spread, such as ovis poli and ovis ammon (Asiatic
specimens) would be classed by Sheldon as nar-
now types, because, although they flare out at
the tips and have world-record spreads, they
sweep downward close to the cheek of the animal
before flaring out.

L7]

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

I cannot refrain from expressing a slight pref-
erence for the narrow type (small spread) horn
as compared to the diverging (wide spread).
This statement applies not only to our noble
Rocky Mountain sheep (ovis canadensis), but to
the beautiful white (and allied) sheep of the
North as well.

When we reached camp at 8:30 p. m. we
learned that Harry and Wooden had spent the
day moose hunting south of camp, but without
success. William, Al and Cap went for the cow
moose that was killed the day before.

Thus ended the hunting days of our party on
this trip, so we planned to leave for McCarthy
the next morning. In some respects the event
of our leaving the hunting country ushered in a
certain degree of sadness. Our trip had been
wonderfully filled with experience and adven-
ture; our endurance had at times been tested to
the limit; we were taking home some beautiful
specimens for our museum (with others later to
follow which our guides promised would be sent);
so to some extent we relished the change that
was to take us to the outside.

178

NGnth Chapter

A NEW SPECIES OF CARIBOU
RANGIFER MCGUIREI

F i

NINTH CHAPTER

A NEW SPECIES OF CARIBOU
RANGIFER McGUIREI

ILE the whole purpose of our trip to
the North was collecting specimens, yet
unconsciously, it seems, we were so fortunate
as to discover a species of caribou that was
quite new to science. This form is charac-
terized by the differences in the color and mark-
ings, the form of the antlers and the cranial and
dental variations when compared with its rela-
tives, osborni on the south, and stonei on the
west.

Of interest in the present connection is the
evidence that the herds of migratory caribou
that cross the Yukon River in the vicinity of
Fairbanks belong to this variety, for while the
type specimen was obtained far south of that
point, the number of animals is greatly increased —
during the fall months through arrivals from the
northwest, and it is probable the type locality .
represents the southern limits of the breeding
range of mcguirei.

I am including a description of the new

181

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

species herewith, as well as some cuts illustrating
the vital characteristics, for I feel that I would
be quite lacking in appreciation if I should fail
to describe the animal in this volume and thereby
acknowledge the compliment that has been paid
me by Jesse D. Figgins, director of the Colorado
Museum of Natural History, in naming the new
caribou in my honor:

DESCRIPTION OF A NEW SPECIES OF CARIBOU FROM
THE REGION OF THE ALASKA-YUKON
BOUNDARY

BY J. D. FIGGINS

During August and September, 1918, Messrs.
J. A. McGuire and H. C. James secured for the
Colorado Museum of Natural History, in the
region of the Alaska~-Yukon boundary, various
specimens of large mammals. Among these are
six examples of caribou and as they differ ma-
terially when compared with osborni and the
published pictured description of stonei, it is
proposed that they be known as

Rangifer mcguirei, Sp. Nov.*

Characters —Absence of white around the
eyes (only faintly suggested in one young speci-
men); back darker than legs; tip of nose and

*Rangifer Mcguirei is named in honor of Mr. J. A. McGuire, of Denver,
Colorado, who, as a naturalist-sportsman and editor of ‘‘Outdoor Life,’’ has been
one of the foremost leaders in the protection of North American game animals and
whose example and influence have been of inestimable value in establishing a higher
standard of sportsmanship.

182

Ia1Indoq Jayiduey Jo dnoiy

Pca

eoroe =
iS: eo,

A NEW SPECIES OF CARIBOU

lower lip silvery white; between the jaws, entire
throat and sides of neck and over shoulders
varying from brownish gray in calves of the
year to white in fully mature examples; backs
of ears and along the posterior portion of head
and neck light grayish, being gradually displaced
by white or yellowish gray towards the shoul-
ders; a broad band of grayish buff or buffy
white extending diagonally from the color of the
shoulders to the region of the elbow and along
the sides to flank. (The last named characters
vary with the age of the animal, but are pro-
nounced in all examples from a calf of the year
to fully adult specimens—the markings on the
shoulders and sides being the most prominent
in young animals, the white neck being acquired
upon full development.) A band of dark brown
separating light stripe on sides from white of
underparts.

Hoofs, small; antlers, differing in type when
compared with osborni and stonei, notably in the
length of single brow tine and the formation of
the first branch.

Skull, excessive anterior cleft and flattening
of nasals; length and backward curvature of the
paroccipital processes; width of lachrymals,
smooth and rounded surface of processes above
m! and m? (see illustration for dentition).

Type.—Adult male, Kletsan creek, a tribu-
tary of the White River, four miles east of the
183

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

Alaska-Yukon boundary, Sept. 9, 1918. Col-
lected by A. C. Rogers, Colorado Museum of
Natural History, No. 1846, field No. 23.

Measurements from the freshly killed animal,—
Length, 2472; tail, 224; hind foot, 659; length
of front hoofs, 110 and 106; length of hind
hoofs, 97 and 98.

Description.—Type: ends of nose and lower
lip, silvery white; upper portions of face, light
fuscous, darker adjoining the white on nose;
sides of face, including region about the eyes,
light hair brown; backs of ears and posterior
portion of neck, light yellowish gray, the latter
displaced with very pale brownish or grayish
white on base of neck and across upper shoul-
ders; under jaws, entire throat and sides of neck
white, merging into the color of upper neck and
shoulders; an acute ““V” shaped stripe back of
elbow pointing towards flank; back, hair brown;
sides, drab; legs, slightly darker; belly and anal
region, white; tail with wedge-shaped stripe of
drab on upper surface.

Skull measurements:

Basal dengeh 2. fice ae Genet eteten Hester elk pe tae Oe erect 387
Tip.of premaxilla tomasal 0) 32 eo -ter 2y- 2) espero iene 126
Length of nasals) Soyo Poa ee <itedanpie tem ois ck enetetsnol ete nenas 122
Tip of premaxilla to alveolus of p)............-.-.-.0500- 146
Breadth eit. citfacn eis nck 8 bicte clea sietasevel selsnetene dee eneiatcrerauerate 107
Mastoid’ breadth nc Peles hs ice teieye wearers ine eerie eraneasene 148 '
Zygomatic breadth ye. ah.) .e sys rea icin cfelcleieiee isiastetale 154
Palatal breadthyat m=: Ste ee soe etme nie eat et eters lerertes 74

IaINSY sJojisuey JO uautoads adA J

2
I
gr
.
e
‘
.
“Mh
- -
_—
7 mn
hee 7

A NEW SPECIES OF CARIBOU

Wispemtoorhprow acs ices ene ects vspe crane alsr tila ase ales 104
Caniterton pee sec ee eG alas a hime aie cious aeanew es 73
DWepemot-skulll heeween antlers).(27c cies ols, de oie’ 114
Antlersamatnpeam along CULVEs -f 5 oi )-)ie =. bein «2 alesis 1202
Greatestispreadtalbeamisn a satanic ces kiry << cosa tseccisiaten 954
Distance between points Of beams ia..i.astsfee oe ier, ec) 819
Bread thuotnpalimation), saci ro cw ataese nares coe = yoke ete sich oleys 89
Bengtinonsingie brow, tine sain ss) pe nik ai toe 2 sim scat 407
Wengen Gt palmated brow ties 36/2 <)sjeyers gests che Alas 407
enocnvortirst, branch along yicurve spac. o/c ey els < 586

Range.—While Rangifer mcguirei breed in lim-
ited numbers in the vicinity of the type locality,
they represent but a small percentage of those
that appear from the north and northwest during
September and October. It is probable this
movement is an extension of the migration of
caribou which occurs in the region of Fairbanks;
but until there is positive evidence of this, the
range of mcguiret may be designated as the vi-
cinity of the Alaska-Yukon boundary from the
base of Mt. St. Elias northward.

185

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moth:

Tenth Chapter

HOMEWARD BOUND

TENTH CHAPTER
HOMEWARD BOUND

At 4 oclock on the morning following our
return with the rams which Cap and I had
killed (September 10), Longley and his packers
were astir and went horse-wrangling. They re-
turned at 7, however, without success. After
breakfast they went out again, and at noon
returned with the horses, minus four that could
not be found. The opinion prevailed that they
had gone back to the Generc, eighteen miles
east, where their favorite pea-vine grows in such
profusion. Following a short consultation after
lunch, Jimmie Brown was dispatched to the
Generc with orders to find the horses and return
as soon as possible. Accordingly, he packed a
scanty grubstake that would hardly fill an or-
dinary hat, and without taking frying pan,
knife or fork, tied his meager grub sack to the
side of his saddle and mounted. “‘Where is your
bedding?” I asked. “‘My saddle blankets,” said
he laconically, and he rode off. When I reflected
that the stream at our door froze the night before
and that a cup of water in my tent the same
night froze solid, and furthermore that Jimmy
189

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

might be gone several days for those pea-vine-
mad horses, I inwardly congratulated myself
that it was he and not I that was embarking on
that journey with such a scant outfit, and yet I
felt heartily sorry for that frail little man of iron
nerve and indomitable spirit, for even a seasoned
sourdough finds a limit to his perserverance and
hardship.

We were very anxious to get away as soon as
possible in order to meet our boat, the North-
western, going down. It was on this craft that
we had engaged berths, and if it were missed
there was no telling when we should be able to
leave Alaska owing to the vast numbers of people
migrating from there at that time. Therefore,
as evening approached we evinced a desire to
get away next morning if that were possible with-
out Jimmie and the four missing horses. By
estimating the quantity of non-perishable things
we had on hand, we figured that we had about
enough bones, horns and antlers to pack four
horses, and therefore it was decided to split up
our specimens, taking with us the hides, horns
in velvet and all other necessary and perishable
articles and leave the horns and bones for Jimmy
to pack in.

Someone asked, after meditating on Jimmy’s
inability to lead us across the Russell Glacier,
“Who'll lead us over the ice?” “Hell!” spoke
up Shorty, the “reader” of dangerous glacial
streams and the interpreter of soughing winds,

190

The singular dentition found in Rangifer Mcguirei

HOMEWARD BOUND

“T’ll take you across that glacier and guarantee
a safe crossing. Ice fields are no worse to cross
than ice streams. Fully as many men have lost
their lives in the streams as on the glaciers” —
and we realized the truth of his statement, for
with the ever-present quicksand and the con-
stant changing of the channels, stream travel
by packs is very dangerous.

A stream like the White, the Nizina or the
Generc has a stream-bed (or bar) of approxi-
. mately two miles across on the average. This
bar (as I believe I have already stated) is com-
posed of boulders, gravel, sand and quicksand.
The latter is so common that the traveler must
needs be constantly on the lookout for it. Horses
have been lost in the quicksands of the White
and tributary streams, and it is no very un-
common thing to have to pull a sinking horse out
by the neck.

To look across one of these bars one would
naturally take it for a waterless waste of sand
and boulders, but when you travel out over its
surface you encounter the channel—or one of
them, as most always there are several—thru
which rushes in mad fury the glacial, muddy
water.

Next morning, September 12th, after leaving
some provisions and a note of instructions for
Brownie, we packed up and departed McCarthy-
ward. Good spirits pervaded all, and weather
and trail conditions being favorable we made

IgI

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

pretty good time to North Fork Island, our
camping place. Harry and I went ahead, hoping
to see a moose, caribou or bear. I got a shot at
a red fox at seventy-five yards, but punctured
only the innocent atmosphere. This shot really
belonged to Harry, but in going thru the “‘after-
you-Alphonse”’ stunt for nearly a minute, with
no show of his accepting a shot, I fired. In his
usual good-natured way he said I ploughed a
furrow in the animal’s hair, but I know that the
only furrow that was ploughed was thru the
aerated liquid enveloping it.

Next morning was a momentous one, as we
were to cross the glacier that day. Harry and I
again left ahead of the outfit (at 8:30), following
the bed of the White. We came to within a mile
or two of the glacier by noon. From the point
where we ate our lunch its whitened teeth seemed
to gnash defiance at our approach. A study of
the great mountain precipices on either side of
it showed that the glacier grinds down a veritable
gulch gash, tearing up the sides of the cafion in
its slow but certain descent.

And here was found much food for reflection
on Alaska’s great natural wonders, for in that
country there are at work many opposing forces
of both human and terrestrial nature. Apropos
of this is a story told on the boat coming down,
“namely: “The Frenchman’s toast to the Ameri-
can cocktail: He put a little lemon in it to sour
it, a little sugar in it to sweeten it, a little ice in it

192

HOMEWARD BOUND

to cool it, a little whiskey in it to warm it—and zen
he say, ‘Here’s to you,’ but he drink it heeself.”

Strong, rugged hearts are found in Alaska,
and they belong to men who shrink not at the
sight of danger; men who would willingly give
up their lives, if necessary, to save another—
and who are doing this very thing every year.

Soon the packs came up and we began to
ascend over the gulchy moraine to the bench of
the glacier, some 300 feet in elevation above the
bed of the White. Once on the glacier we became
inspired with a feverish desire to move fast, for
to camp on a glacier would be a most unpleasant
experience; and yet there were many delays, for
the packs would get bunched however careful
we might be in trying to distribute our riders
equidistant between them. We took a different
route from the one coming in, also a shorter one.

We had been on the glacier about three hours,
and the tired horses had been lagging for some
time, when suddenly a stir showed up in the
ranks ahead. Packs jumped aside to allow a
frenzied rider to pass, coming our way at full
speed. Broken moraine rocks flipped off to
either side of the trail, sent hither and thither
by the clattering hoofs of a white horse, while
Shorty’s Napoleonic figure agitated and vibrated
with excitement as he swung his arms in com-
manding gestures on passing the packs. ‘“‘Some-
one hurt,” said Harry, “‘or Shorty wouldn’t lose
his poise in that manner.” I fully acquiesced,

793

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

for never had Shorty shown any such emotion
before. Down the slippery hills and up the icy
heights of the glacier Shorty rode, now dipping
into an icy ravine, again appearing silhouetted
on a miniature peak or divide of the trail.
Finally he came within hearing, and on passing
Jimmy, the cook, he yelled vociferously: “Spur
up the knotheads or we'll never get off this
glacier tonight.”’ And then as he swung behind
a couple of the packs in front of us and faced
right about, ““G’lang King; Giddep there, Crop-
pie, dang yer ornery hides; ye’ll sleep on this
glacier tonight if ye don’t quit yer pussy-footin’
—slide along!’ We in the rear spurted up a
little, but we weren’t at all jealous of the risk
that Shorty took in ‘loping over the ice in his
spectacular ride.

We got off the glacier in four hours, and
reached land opposite the end of it in five hours,
one hour shorter than our time going in. We
reached Skolai Pass at 6:30 p. m., in good
weather, and camped opposite that grand sen-
tinel, James Mountain, named, as before stated,
in honor of my co-worker on this expedition,
Harry C. James.

The next three days’ travel to McCarthy were
uneventful. We traversed the same route we
took going in—via Clark’s roadhouse, Mc-
Cloud’s, Spruce Point and Shorty Gwin’s. Altho
we had planned on taking another goat hunt
from Clark’s while coming out, yet the conditions

194

DUI] UL SISIOY INOJ-AJUIA | JBIORIO ]Jassmy JO pus oy Sursesyy

HOMEWARD BOUND

were not favorable, so we passed it up. Near
Shorty’s, when we were about to recross the Ni-
zina, a young miner walked up, carrying rubber
wading boots, saying he intended to ford the
stream. But it looked so dangerous that we in-
vited him to climb on one of the horses behind
the pack, which he gladly did. When in the
middle of one of the worst channels his horse
lost its footing and went down. The young
miner went into the stream feet first and half
swam and half floundered down to my horse,
which he grabbed with much vigor. He climbed
on behind me, and Belle, my good saddle horse
that had been so faithful on my entire trip,
pulled us both ashore, much to my comfort of
mind. He was a 200-pounder, and I 170, which,
together with my gun and other belongings
brought the combined weight that Belle carried
in that roaring torrent to about 400 pounds.

We reached McCarthy in a rainstorm at 4
p. m., September 17th, after an absence of thirty-
nine days. An epitome of the time consumed on
the entire trip is: Denver to Alaska and return,
sixty-nine days; actual hunting, twenty days;
on way from McCarthy to farthest camp and
return, fourteen days; laid up for rain and lost
horses, five days. On our total trip we traveled
7,200: miles, including pack travel, at a cost of
about $7,200—$1,800 E r each person, or $1.00
a mile. For four persons, and with such a splen-
did and complete outfit as Cap Hubrick gave us,

195

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

his price was very reasonable, as $2,500.00 was
the price charged by other outfitters for one
man, for a 40-day hunt.

On the evening of our arrival in McCarthy,
after separating our belongings and packing up,
we repaired to McCarthy’s only refreshment
parlor. The country being “dry” since the pre-
vious January, soft drinks only were dispensed,
but they came high enough to remind us that we
were in the Far North. Coca-Cola and other
s-cent drinks in the States sold here for 25 cents
—in fact, there is no drink sold over the bar at
McCarthy for less than 25 cents. As we sat at
a table imbibing one of these mixtures I noticed
seated at the same table, to my right, a big,
square-shouldered man of 225 pounds or more,
whose good nature soon gave expression to a re-
mark, which led to a very interesting conversa-
tion. He had been thru both the Klondike and
the Shushanna stampedes, and even at present
was engaged in pursuit of the elusive color. He
looked about 50, but said he was 66, and that he
could turn a handspring or swim a cold stream
as well as ever. And I believe him. His name is
T. W. P. Smith, and his home at that time was
Shushanna, Alaska.

A most pleasant surprise of our return trip
was the extension by Superintendent Corser of
the Copper River & N. W. Railway, of the same
special railroad courtesies returning as we re-
ceived going up. This beautiful little private

196

HOMEWARD BOUND

car that was ours on the railroad journey back
to Cordova was a delight and a luxury to us all,
and we shall always remember Mr. Corser’s lib-
erality and kindness in tendering us the use of it
with the most pleasant thoughts.

While waiting for the boat at the Windsor
Hotel, Cordova, Alaska, I was presented with a
card bearing this inscription:

THEODORE R. HUBBACK,
Pertang, Jelebu, Fed. Malay States,
Via Singapore.

Mr. Hubback was on his way, in the company
of a friend, Mr. Keeler, to Kenai Peninsula for
moose and sheep. Having killed rhino, hippo,
elephant, saladang and about all the smaller
kinds of game found in his country and there-
abouts, he now came to the United States on a
trip consuming two months from Singapore to
kill moose. He was a sportsman thru and thru,
and since then I have received correspondence
telling of his great success on the peninsula,
where he secured beautiful specimens of moose
and sheep, and some wonderful photographs of
wild bears. He is the author of a couple of
interesting books on the subject of hunting big
game in his country.

After a long delay at Cordova waiting for our
boat, we finally boarded it for the journey home,
a very pleasant one, both by boat and train. We
arrived in Denver on October 4th at 7:45 p. m.,
after an absence from home of sixty-nine days.

197

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Eleventh Chapter

OOP Eh hin G EINES

ELEVENTH CHAPTER
OUTFITTING HINTS

S will be seen by the accompanying list, sev-

eral articles that were taken to the North
were, at the advice of our guide, Captain Hubrick,
never carried into the hunting fields, but left at
McCarthy until our return. I don’t believe,
however, there was a thing forgotten, or any-
thing omitted from the list that would have
added in any measure to our comfort or efh-
ciency. While I have always been a great
admirer of the air beds, having used them con-
tinually for twenty years (and took one along on
this occasion), yet I was fearful before leaving
on the trip that my rheumatism might not go
very well with them, so I took my eiderdown
robe, which I have used as a cold-weather bed
for years. There is nothing to beat the air beds,
even in ordinarily cold weather, as they are com-
pact, durable, rainproof and positively the
easiest bed to sleep on that can be found.
usually inflate them only sufficient to allow my
fist to press the upper and lower walls together
when it is forced down hard in the middle of the
bed. If inflated much more than this the bed is

201

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

not so comfortable. In fact, less inflation than
that mentioned is better than more.

While a hickory cleaning rod might be con-
sidered as rather awkward to carry on such a
long trip, I didn’t find it so at all, as it fit very
nicely into my rifle carrying case on train and
boat, and into my saddle scabbard while travel-
ing between camps.

While we all took mosquito head nets, I don’t
believe any of us used them more than once or
twice. While the mosquitos and flies were bad
at times, especially during the early part of our
trip—and on Harris Creek—the trouble soon
passed without very much notice by us.

I was fortunate in buying a Filson cruising
shirt before leaving, for without it I would have
been somewhat handicapped. This is not a
shirt at all, but more of a coat, but it serves the
purpose under any name, for it is a comfort and
a blessing on any trip. It is cravenetted, and
therefore reasonably waterproof, is of very heavy
wool, with all kinds of handy pockets, each
clasped, and has even the game pockets in rear.
I believe I wore it a day, and it is yet about
as good as new.

Ordinarily, one can use about the same cloth-
ing on the White River in any summer or fall
month as he would wear a month later in the
big game fields of Wyoming or Montana. This
also applies to footwear. If I should go there
again I would take one pair of ordinary 8 or Io-

202

OUTFITTING HINTS

inch hunting boots, one pair of light boots with
rubber vamps and soles, and one pair of over-
sized ordinary walking shoes, nailed with Hun-
garian hobs. The boots also should be so
hobbed. Keep your hunting boots light. No
such boot, unless a man is a giant, should weigh
more than 3% pounds to the pair. An ordinary
pair of walking shoes weighs two pounds, and
when this weight is doubled, as often it is, you
are lifting too much at each step. I would
rather have to buy a new pair of boots for each
trip, if they were so light that I'd wear them
out that quick, than to burden myself with
4-pound boots that would last a lifetime. Three-
pound boots would be preferable to 34%-pound
if you can get them. I am speaking now for the
average-sized man (I weigh 170 pounds).

The shoes I have mentioned are for sheep and
goat hunting and for long caribou and moose
hikes without the horses in dry country. The
rubber-vamp boots mentioned are for boggy
country while hunting moose, caribou or bear,
while the leather boots are for hunting in dry or
' cold weather and for riding.

Don’t forget the rubber folding drinking cup.
I have used it for twenty-five years continuously
and have never left it behind yet. It lies flat in
your pocket and occupies practically no space.
Closing as it does, it is always perfectly clean on
the inside, however dirty looking the exterior
may be. JI, like others, have gone thru the cart-

203

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

ridge-belt and the stooping-to-drink days, there-
fore am not ashamed to drink out of a cup in
the hills any more.

It was very lucky for me that I took one pair
extra of each of the eyeglasses that I wear—the
reading and the long distance—as I had only
gone a few miles from McCarthy before I broke
my reading glasses. I found it mighty handy,
therefore, to resort to the extra pair for the re-
mainder of the trip.

Binoculars are a necessary article on a trip of
this kind. I have used several pairs during the
past twenty-five years. About twelve years ago
I purchased a pair of Alpine binoculars from
Paul Weiss, the manufacturer, of Denver, and
have never used any other make since then.
These are of 8 power, but after seeing Mr.
Weiss’s new 7-power military glass, I believe it
will be my next buy. After it has once been
fitted to the eyes, no adjustment is necessary
for distance, as it is good then for all distances
from Io feet to infinity.

As our guide’s rate for the trip included the
furnishing of provisions, tents, etc., we didn’t
have any of that to arrange for, except that
Harry was thoughtful enough at Seattle to pick
up a large quantity of chocolate, raisins, etc.,
without which our daily lunches while hunting
would have been dry, indeed.

A list of the articles taken by me on this trip
is appended:

204

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OUTFITTING HINTS

jo U. S. Winchester chambered for the ’03 ammunition.
.30 U. S. Winchester chambered for the ’06 ammunition.
rounds ’06 Service ammunition, spitzer bullet, 150-grain.
rounds ’03 ammunition, soft point bullet, 220-grain.

.22 Stevens pistol, 12-inch barrel and holster to fit over
saddle horn.

rounds ammunition for same.

non-leakable oil cans for 3-in-1 oil.

rifle barrel cleaners—one hickory rod and one leather pull.
tarpaulins.

pneumatic air bed.

eiderdown sleeping robe and canvas cover for same.

8x10 wall tent (3-foot wall).

7x9 wall tent (2-foot wall).

7X7 tepee with canvas floor—my sleeping tent.

large canvas duffel bag, 48 inches long and 26 wide when
laid flat, and draw rope.

small canvas duffel bags, 20x30 inches, to fit in large bag,
one on top of the other laid down.

very small canvas bags, 12x18 inches, to hold smaller
knick-knacks, hard articles, etc.

pair Alpine binoculars.

3-A Eastman kodak, fitted with Goerz lens.

3-A films, purchased fresh from the Denver Photo Materials
Co.

pairs gloves.

Stetson hat.

light corduroy cap with earlaps (never used).

pair Outdoor Life hunting scales, weight 34 pound.
mosquito head net.

suit Gabardine cloth, pants cut off 2 inches above ankles,
and laced over calf (seldom used).

suit, cast-off gray wool business suit and extra pair of
trousers, both pairs of trousers reinforced where needed
and cut short below calf, to lace over calf (used almost
continuously, alternating the coat with the Filson cruiser
shirt).

205

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IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

Filson cruiser shirt.

‘leather vest with sleeves (never used).

Burberry raincoat.
pairs heavy woolen socks.
pair old Russell Moccasin boots, 12-inch.
pair new Russell Moccasin boots, 12-inch.
pair Cutter boots with rubber vamps.
pair walking shoes with Neolin soles, for light work.
suits woolen underwear.
woolen shirts.
aneroid barometer
Jersey skull cap.
rifle scabbards.
Needle and linen thread.
Absorbent cotton, medicated gauze, Sloan’s liniment, Hen-
kel’s pills, peroxide, etc.
Fishing line, leader, flies.
small handy tool kit.
round, small French plate mirror for shaving.
Marble matchbox.
Safety pins—some very large for pinning blankets.
Lumberman’s calks.
Hungarian hobnails.
dozen Marble’s safety No. 83 hunting knives—one for use
and five for presents.
rubber folding drinking cup.
extra pair of my reading and
extra pair of my distance glasses—for emergency.
pairs colored glasses for the glacier and snow traveling.
air spurs.
ooth powder and brush.
Burr’s-threo gun oil.
Hoppe’s No. 9 gun oil.
Pneumatic bed patching outfit.
can Viscol for waterproofing shoes (never used).
Shaving outfit.

“Left at McCarthy at the advice of guide.

206

OUTFITTING HINTS

Towels, soap, etc.
*2 strips 3 in. by 7% ft. of drill cloth to be used as puttees.
*2 strips 3 in. by 7% ft. of lighter weight drill cloth to be used
as puttees.
1 pint Hudson’s solvent.
1 outfit of Winchester cleaning solution for removing metal
fouling (never used).
50 yards manila %-inch rope.
75 yards cotton 14-inch rope.
1 ball heavy cotton twine for sewing tents, tarps, etc.
3 cases Carnation milk.

There is another article that has been called
to my attention since returning and which I
surely would take to that country if I should ever
go there again. I refer to the Perfection cape, a
rubberized silk coat reaching just below the
knees, absolutely rainproof and weighing but 19
ounces. It packs into a flexible leather case
4x8x2 inches and can easily be carried in the
pocket. It is made by the Athol Mfg. Co. of
Athol, Mass.

Twelfth Chapter

AFTERTHOUGHTS

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TWELFTH CHAPTER
AFTERTHOUGHTS
WHILE ideas of Alaska and Yukon Territory

are usually associated with obscure visions
of mucklucks and mushing, blizzards and bidar-
kas, yet very little of this life was ever apparent
to us as we traveled thru. True, the double-
ender used by Stampede Mary in her memorable
mush to Shushanna (officially spelled Chisana)
during the gold rush was pointed out to us, and
I believe the sled dog that Billy the Bear traded
to Four-Eyed Brown was shown while we were
in McCarthy; yet, except for a few such sou-
venirs, we saw very little evidence of the actual
life of the musher, due, of course, to the fact
that our pilgrimage there was during the warm-
weather period. We were, however, told various
stirring tales of the adventures of those who
passed hard winters in that clime, Cap Hubrick
and Shorty Gwin vieing with each ats in set-
ting off the most extravagant displays of super-
heated verbal fireworks for our especial enter-
tainment. Of course, neither Cap nor Shorty

211

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

ever intended to deliberately ‘“‘gas’’ us—they
merely formed a mutual resolve at the beginning
of the trip that we should not lack for entertain-
ment during the sunless days and the gameless
days, and, both being capable linguists, as well
as sourdoughs of many years’ standing in that
community, two more capable men than they
could not have been selected to charge us with
the moral, mental and physical atmosphere of
that region.

My general impression of Alaska is that there
are some wonderful characters of men and
women there, and that the territory contains
sections, as did other parts of the West during
frontier days, in which pure sand assays as high
in the make-up of a man as pure gold. And yet,
men’s lives and brave deeds are sold cheaply in
Alaska. There the hardest hide covers the
softest heart. Human life there is filled with
wonderful emotions—the greatest thrills, the
deepest pains, the greatest passions, the most
ne Se patience.

We hunted a country where every high moun-
tain represented a tentacular ice plaster from ten
to one hundred miles across it—some single gla-
ciers containing as much ice as is found in the
whole of Switzerland. It takes men of strong
courage and stout limb to live the sourdough’s
life, but years of participation in this work builds
up the constitution, hardens the muscles, and

212

AFTERTHOUGHTS

makes men of iron out of, sometimes, the most
debilitated specimens of humanity.

My advice to all men, as emphasized in Out-
door Life and personally, has ever been directed
toward living as much of their life in the open as
possible. Learn to cultivate a participation in
some outdoor hobby (if you haven’t been be-
guiled in that direction already) to such an ex-
tent and with such fervor that it will actually
infringe on your official and social duties, and
occasionally be allowed to upset even some of
your most profitable and highly cherished busi-
ness plans. Take this hobby home with you and
treat it as you would your best friend; listen to
its whims, answer its call and walk with it in the
open. I care not whether this outdoor pursuit
happens to come in the form of dangling an
earthworm over an inoffensive and untenanted
water-hole, or bringing down an elephant in the
jungle. One is as good for your health as the
other if you get enough of it.

Bear in mind that if you would promote and
keep alive that great organism which you call
your mortal coil, there are a few fundamental
rules you should observe while straying along
this here earthly trail. If you don’t so listen to
the call of nature you’ll become mouldy of mind,
yellow of skin, crooked of shoulder and so over-
wrought and nervous that in the end you will
not be a fit companion for even a prairie-dog.

213

IN THE ALASKA-YUKON GAMELANDS

Remember that the axle-grease that lubricates
your bearings and liberates the crinkles from
our brain isn’t taken directly into your nozzle
be gulps, but in the form of sunny and airy
energizer it must percolate thru your pores by
degrees. Send yourself out and into it long and
often. It’sa commodity that is sold by no drug-
gist, but comes as an elixir from Heaven, flooding
the whole of the outdoors in its welcoming call
to you to “‘come in.”

Forget that your limbs were only made to
stretch a tailor’s tape on or to throw under a desk
in working hours. Take a new grip on yourself
and learn that a gun or a rod, when used prop-
erly, form a wand that will kill more germs than
Bill Hohenzollern ever let loose in his palmiest
day. If you will follow the above advice you
will, by the glow of your cheek, the spark of
your eye, the spring of your step ‘and the wit of
your mind, show to those waiting heirs and as-
signs that it will be a mighty long time yet be-
fore anything is pulled off of any great interest
to them.

In conclusion, I hope my readers will get more
generally into the habit of writing up their hunt-
ing trips for publication in the sporting maga-
zines. Constructing a story is somewhat similar
to building a house—only many times easier, for
the reason that you have everything at hand in
your study instead of having to gather the sev-

214

AFTERTHOUGHTS

eral materials together as a contractor must do
to finish the job. For instance: Your idealism
is the architect of your story; knowledge of your
subject is the foundation of your structure; your
words are the bricks, stones, timbers, etc. (and
certainly there is no dearth of these); your good
judgment is the mortar and nails that hold them
together, and your caution is the shingles that
cover up the defects of thought and expression.
Adios.

THE END

215

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