94 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 



Once while bear-hunting at Lake Josephine with 

 Charlie Smith, we came to a particularly high, long and 

 smooth precipice. The rock wall was nearly half a mile 

 long, and I think at least six hundred feet high, with a 

 hundred feet of very steep slide-rock at its foot. It 

 curved around a basin, like the wall of a gigantic Colos- 

 seum. A big and shaggy billy goat elected to walk across 

 the face of that appalling wall, about half-way from bot- 

 tom to top, and as we slowly marched past far below, we 

 watched him. 



He was so high up that he felt no fear of us, and on 

 the dizzy course that he elected to take, he looked like 

 a mechanical toy pegging along. In that clear air, 

 however, our glasses brought him down to us exceed- 

 ingly well. 



As is always the case when upon rocks, the firmness 

 with which each hoof was planted, — to avoid slips, and 

 to detect loose rocks, — gave the animal a very stiflf gait. 

 His steps were long, as regular as the tick of a clock, 

 and not for one second did the animal hesitate regard- 

 ing his course. His gait was as steady as if he were 

 walking along a smooth road, and the directness of his 

 course was remarkable. Occasionally he paused to look 

 down and scrutinize us, but after each inspection he 

 jogged on as indifferently as before. I am sure no 

 mountain sheep, nor any other American animal, ever 

 would attempt to go over that appalling course. It was 

 a sight worth coming far to see. 



How could the goat have known that a practicable 

 route lay before him? There must have been a stratum 



