HUNTING THE WILD GOAT 173 



and I stood a while on the edge of this abyss holding on 

 to a Lyon's ironwood tree that looked into it. It well 

 repaid the climb to see the extraordinary work accom- 

 plished by mere water in cutting down through this 

 lava and conglomerate wall which m_akes up the side 

 of the island. While resting here I heard a shot, and 

 over the side of the mountain, far above, came a wild 

 goat and after him Pinchot and White, running down, 

 firing, always with revolvers, finally getting the big 

 buck, which rolled down the side of the precipice at 

 the side of a cave of large size high up in the wall. 

 Here I photographed the winged victory, and the hunt- 

 ers took the big head, the buck having a wide spread 

 of horns even for a wild goat. 



Some of the shooting done by the party with 

 six-shooters was remarkable. In many instances the 

 shooting was done across the canon and at long range; 

 indeed, I saw Pinchot kill a goat — high up on the 

 slopes — from our launch as we were sailing down 

 shore. There was no mistake, as this goat was 

 wounded, and Pinchot insisted upon being put ashore 

 to get the animal. 



Lying on the slopes, seemingly over the ocean, 

 it was an interesting sight to see the sportsmen 

 stalking their game, which undoubtedly lived in 

 the caves which honeycombed this part of the island, 

 hundreds of them being so high and isolated that 

 eagles and ravens alone could reach them. Suddenly 

 I would hear the long penetrating cry of a goat, 

 and out on some pinnacle a buck would appear, to 

 stand a moment statuesque, then dodge and plunge 

 down the slopes as the whining note of a bullet cut 

 the vibrant air. 



