but when he looked at the
mountain below them, his face
grew long. It was a place to make
any man pause. The boulder field,
where the rams were bedded,
dropped off into a series of ledges
forming the rim of a semicircular
cliff a thousand feet high Below
this a long, steep rock slide
dropped clear to the creek.
A diagonal chimney ran up the
face of the cliff to a spot to the
left and downwind from the rams.
From the top of the ledge, where
this chimney cut the rum, it was a
steep 150 yards to a rock buttress
within easy range of the sheep.
The climb looked feasible, but
Proctor was apprehensive.
Finally he said, "I came out
here to get a ram, and that's
probably the biggest one I'll ever
see. But I have a wife and seven
children at home depending on
me for a living. I can't risk such a
climb. It wouldn't be justified."
K
nowing that a rock face
always looks worse
from a right-angle view,
I persuaded him to
at least cross the canyon for a
closer look from the bottom. So
we climbed back down.
There we were hidden from
the rams by a swell of the
mountain above. As I expected,
the cliff took on a different
aspect from the bottom. It was
still close to perpendicular, but
the chimney looked much less
formidable. I had 70 feet of
light, strong rope in my rucksack.
When I showed this to Proctor
and outlined a plan to climb the
chimney safely, he agreed to try.
Tying one end of the rope
securely around his waist, I
scrambled up as far as the rope
would reach. Then I found a
secure spot for an anchor and
he followed while I took up the
slack. While he sat down to get
his wind, I proceeded up to the
end of the rope again. Suppressing
my impatience, I gave him plenty
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