6o CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 



Of course only Mr. Phillips and I carried rifles; 

 and we agreed that the left man should take the left 

 animal. 



" It's a hundred and fifty yards!" said Mack Nor- 

 boe, in a hoarse whisper. 



My goat was grazing behind the trunk of a fallen 

 tree, which shielded his entire body. I waited, and 

 waited; and there he stood, with his head down, and 

 calmly cropped until I became wildly impatient. I 

 think he stood in one spot for five minutes, feeding upon 

 Pulsatilla. 



" Why don't you shoot? " queried Phillips, in wonder. 



" I can't! My goat's hiding behind a tree." 



" Well, fire when you're ready, Gridley, and I'll 

 shoot when you do! " 



It must have been five minutes, but it seemed like 

 twenty-five, before that goat began to feel a thrill of life 

 along his keel, and move forward. The annoying sus- 

 pense had actually made me unsteady; besides which, my 

 Savage was a new one, and unchristened. Later on I 

 found that the sights were not right for me, and that 

 my first shooting was very poor. 



At last my goat stood forth, in full view, — white, 

 immaculate, high of hump, low of head, big and bulky. 

 I fired for the vitals behind shoulder. 



"You've overshot!" exclaimed Norboe, and 



"Bang!" said Mr. Phillips's Winchester. 



Neither of us brought down our goat at the first fire! 



I fired again, holding much lower, and the goat 

 -reared up a foot. Mr. Phillips fired again, whereupon 



