THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AT HOME S3 



but what would there have been in that of any interest 

 to a sportsman? I had not asked any goats to come 

 down to our camp, and lie down to be shot! 



Not caring greatly whether I got that goat or not, 

 I attempted a stalk along the western side of the ridge, 

 through the dead timber, and well below him. But the 

 old fellow was not half so sleepy as he looked. When 

 finally I came up to a point that was supposed to com- 

 mand his works, I found that he had winded me. He 

 had vanished from his resting-place, and was already far 

 up the side of Bald Mountain, conducting a masterly 

 retreat. 



After a hurried breakfast, we made ready for a day 

 with the goats on the northern mountains. Although 

 there are many things in favor of small parties, — the 

 best consisting of one guide and one hunter, — we all went 

 together, — Mr. Phillips, Mack, Charlie and I. Our 

 leader declared a determination to " see the director 

 shoot his first goat"; and I assured the others that the 

 services of all would be needed in carrying home my 

 spoils. 



As we turned back toward camp, and took time to 

 look " at the sceneries," the view westward, toward Bull 

 River, disclosed a cloud effect so beautiful that Mr. 

 Phillips insisted upon photographing it, then and there. 

 To give the " touch of life " which he always demanded, 

 I sat in, as usual. 



By Mr. Phillips's advice, I put on suspenders and 

 loosened my cartridge-belt, in order to breathe with per- 

 fect freedom. We wore no leggings. Our shoes were 



