apidly growing dark, and there was not time to get within range while
it would be light enough to shoot. So I sat and studied these sheep
through the glasses, determined to find them later, even if it took me a
month.

One of them had a most beautiful head, with long and massive horns well
over the full turn. Another had a head which would have been equally
good if the left horn had not been slightly broken at the tip. The third
also had an excellent head, and although not up to the other two, his
horns made the full turn. The remaining two rams were smaller. I watched
them until darkness came on, and all this while they fed slowly back
toward the mountains on which my friend had been hunting the week
before. I am convinced that this bunch of sheep had been driven out of
these hills by Blake, and had been turned back again by me.

It rained hard that night, and the next morning the clouds were so low
that it was impossible to go in search of the rams I had seen the
evening before. I, therefore, determined to push immediately to the
main camp, which we reached three hours later. We at once lunched, and,
putting our light outfit in one of the boats, rowed up to the head of
the lake.

This range of hills is surrounded by a mighty glacier, and at the foot
of the glacier is a moraine some ten miles long extending down to Kenai
Lake. On one side of this moraine you can walk by skirting the shore
and using care, but on the other side the quicksands are deep and
dangerous. We camped for the night in a place which my friend had used
as his base of supplies.

The next morning opened dull, and I felt the effects of my hard work and
did not greatly relish the idea of shouldering a fifty-pound pack. But
my time was now getting short. In two weeks the rutting season of the
moose would begin, and in the meantime I wanted four more fine specimens
of the white sheep. Any day we might expect a heavy fall of snow, for
the northern winter had already begun in the hills.

We soon found the tracks of Blake's party, which led up the moraine, and
carried us over quicksand and through glacial streams, icy cold.
Finally we came to where Blake had started up the mountain side, and
with all due regard to my friend, his trail was not an easy one. About
noon it began to rain, but we pushed upward, although soon soaked to the
skin, and came out above timber just at dark. We were all fagged out and
shaking with cold by the time we reached Blake's