My Strange Rescue — On the Wrong Side of the Snow-Ridge

*ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE SNOW-RIDGE.

* One of the Fur Commissioners of the Hudson Bay Company at Winnipeg was entertaining a number of the factors and other officials at Christmas dinner, and after the successive courses had received appreciative attention, the guests settled themselves at ease about the table to enjoy the excellent cigars and one another's conversation.

Made up as the gathering was of men who had for ten, twenty, thirty years or longer, in the pursuance of their vocation, experienced most moving adventures by flood and field, good stories followed fast.

One told of a thrilling trip through the dangerous rapids of the Portage of the Drowned; another, of the narrow escape from meeting death at the hands of a grizzly among the foot-hills of the Rockies; while a third held the attention of all as he graphically described the fearful struggle that he had with a wounded bull bison in the valley of the Bow River.

Thus the story-telling went around until it reached Hugh M'Kenzie, one of the oldest officials in the active service, who, in response to a unanimous demand, spun the following interesting yarn of mountain-sheep hunting.

"It was in the third year of my clerkship, and they had sent me away out to Fort George, right in the heart of the Rockies.

I would rather have stayed on the plains, where the buffalo were in plenty; but you're not asked as to what you'd like best in the company.

You're just told to go, and there's an end of it.

I found it very dull at Fort George, and to while away the time I did all the hunting I could.

To help me in this I had two fine dogs, of whom I was extremely proud.

They were half-bred collies, not particularly handsome creatures, but full of pluck, and as knowing animals as ever wagged tails.

"Having had pretty good luck with bear and other game to be found in the neighbourhood of the fort, I became possessed of a strong desire to secure the head of one of those Rocky Mountain sheep which have their home high up among the peaks, and are as difficult animals to hunt as there are in the world.

"Again and again I went out without success, although my dogs, Bruce and Oscar, seemed as eager to get sheep as I was myself; but instead of becoming disheartened, I grew all the more determined, and longed for the winter to come, when the snow, by covering their higher pasturing grounds, would drive the sheep lower down the mountain, and thus make them more getatable.

"The winter began with a series of heavy snowfalls which shut us all up in the fort for several weeks, and it was early in December before I thought it safe to have another try after the sheep.

"Then one fine, bright morning I started off, feeling very hopeful that I would return with my much-coveted prize.

The dogs, of course, went with me, but I had no other companion, nobody else having sufficient sporting ardour to share in the risks of my expedition; for it certainly was full of risks, and had I been older and wiser I would never have undertaken it.

But I was young and strong and full of spirit, and my eagerness to obtain a set of horns had become a bit of a joke against me with the fellows; so that I was not in the mood to soberly weigh the pros and cons of the matter.

"Thinking it possible I might be out all night, I rolled up some provisions and matches in my thick plaid, and strapped it on my shoulders.

With hatchet and hunting-knife in my belt, a full powder-horn at my side, snowshoes on feet and rifle in hand, I set out amid the good-humoured chaffing of my fellow-clerks.

"Up into the mountains I climbed, keeping a keen look-out for signs of the game I was seeking, while Bruce and Oscar ranged right and left, so that we covered a good deal of ground between us.

By mid-day the climbing became so steep and difficult that I had to take off my snow-shoes, and strapped them on my back.

They were no longer necessary, at any rate, for the snow was covered with a crust which bore me up admirably, and made easy going for my moccasined feet.

"It was not until afternoon that the first sheep were sighted, and, much to my delight, they seemed not far away, and easy to get at.

There were five in the flock: a huge ram with superb horns--just the thing I hankered after--and four fine ewes, which, however, had nothing to fear from me.

"Calling the dogs to heel, I proceeded to stalk the unsuspecting creatures with all the skill I possessed.

It proved a harder job than I thought.

They were on a kind of ledge several hundred feet above me, and in order to get a proper shot without giving them warning, it was necessary to make a wide circuit, so as to reach a point opposite their ledge from which a capital chance might be had.

"By dint of great exertion, however, I reached the point all right, and was just waiting a moment to catch my breath before taking aim at the ram, when Oscar's impatience overcame him, and he gave a sharp bark.

Instantly the whole live animals started to flee.

I threw the rifle to my shoulder and pulled the trigger.

It was nothing better than a snap-shot, yet it did not miss; for with the report the ram sprang into the air, stumbled as he came down, and then dashed off again, leaving behind him a plain trail of blood-drops on the white snow.

"With an exultant shout I sent the dogs forward, and followed as fast as I could.

I had to go down into a ravine and get up the other side before reaching the bloody trail.

Forgetting everything else in my wild excitement, I pressed on, guided by my dogs' sharp barking.

It was terribly hard work, and I had many a slip and stumble; but the red splashes in the snow grew larger the further I went.

Bleeding at the rate he was, the ram surely could not keep up his flight for any great distance.

"Presently I came to a place that at any other time would have brought me to a full stop.

A ridge of hard frozen snow stretched between two rocky ledges.

On the one side it reached down to the edge of a precipice, which then fell away abruptly into an unknown depth.

On the other side, in one unbroken sheet, it sloped down full five hundred feet to a level upon, which the snow lay in great drifts.

The ram was already half-way across the ridge, although evidently in distress, and the dogs were hard at his heel, barking fiercely, for they knew that victory was not far off.

"Throwing all considerations of prudence to the winds, I set out to follow them.

So narrow was the ridge that I could not stand erect, but had to sit astride it, and push myself forward by using both hands and feet.

I never glanced below me, lest I should lose my head; and at length, almost completely exhausted, I succeeded in making the other side.

"Here awaiting me was my quarry, standing at bay against the cliff, and butting off the dogs that were springing for his throat.

It was some minutes before my nerves were sufficiently steadied for me to use my rifle; then one shot was sufficient.

With a convulsive spring the noble animal scattered the dogs and fell dead at my feet.

"Oh, but what a proud moment for me!

The horns were splendid.

A man might not get a finer pair in a lifetime.

With the utmost care I detached the head, and then, for the first time since the chase began, sat down to rest.

"I was so tired that I would have been glad to camp here for the night.

But there was absolutely nothing in the way of shelter, and it promised to be bitterly cold and windy.

I must get back to the lower level before darkness came on.

"Securing the ram's head on my shoulders, where I must say it felt abominably heavy, I returned to the ridge.

Not until then did I realize into what a critical position my reckless ardour had brought me.

One look at that perilous passage-way was sufficient to assure me that in my wearied and unnerved condition to recross it was a feat utterly impracticable.

My dogs--two clever, sure-footed creatures as they were--shrank back in evident dismay, although I sought to urge them forward; yet for me to remain on that exposed ledge meant death by freezing before morning.

"I was in a terrible predicament.

Little more than an hour of daylight remained.

Whatever was to be done needed to be done right away.

While I stood there bewildered and irresolute, Oscar again ventured out a little distance on the ridge, but, becoming frightened, tried to turn back.

In so doing he lost his footing, and, despite desperate efforts to regain it, shot swiftly down the slope that ended in a level five hundred feet below.

"With keen concern I watched him through the waning light rolling helplessly over and over until after a final tumble he landed in a great drift, out of which, to my great joy, he emerged the next moment, shook himself vigorously, and sent back a brisk bark as though to say, 'Come along; it's not so bad as it looks.'

"Instantly I caught the idea.

If my dog made the descent uninjured, why could not I?

Great as the risk might be, it was, after all, no worse than staying on the ledge all night.

To think was to act.

Loosening the ram's head from my back, I sent it down after Oscar.

It sped to the bottom and buried itself in a snow-bank.

Next I tied my rifle, hatchet, and hunting-knife on one of the snow-shoes, and despatched them.

They, too, made the trip all right, and vanished in the snow.

Then came my turn.

Rolling up the plaid I lashed it on the remaining snow-shoe, and committed myself to this extemporized toboggan.

"What followed is more than I can tell.

So steep was the slope that I seemed to drop into space.

I was not conscious of touching anything, but simply of being shot through the icy air, blinded by particles of snow, and choking for lack of breath, until I was hurled like a stone from a catapult into a mass of loosely-packed snow, and lost consciousness.

"When I came to myself, Bruce and Oscar were both beside me, licking my face with affectionate anxiety.

At first I could not move, and my whole body was so full of pain that I feared I had been seriously injured.

But, after lying still awhile, I made shift to get upon my feet, and to my vast relief found myself none the worse of my wild descent, save for a scratched face and a severe shaking.

"My next thought was for the horns.

I had no difficulty in extricating them or the rifle from their snowy bed, and found both were uninjured.

Strapping them once more on my shoulders, and adjusting my snow-shoes, I set off down the ravine.

"To get back to the fort that evening was, of course, out of the question, but I hoped to find some cavity in the cliff where I could spend the night safely.

Just before dark I discovered a snug little place, perfectly protected from the wind; and there, with my plaid wrapped tight around me, and my dogs curled up close against me, I put in quite a comfortable night.

As soon as the day broke I started for the fort, and reached it by noon, half starved and very tired, but as proud of my trophy as David was of Goliath's head."