Hunting at High Altitudes 



wrong, I made a very long detour, and at the end 

 of more than an hour found myself behind a 

 rock, which I had long before selected as the point 

 from which I would attempt a shot. Just as I was 

 about to peer cautiously around the rock I felt the 

 wind hit me in the back of the neck, and an instant 

 later came the sound of scampering feet and all I 

 could see as I ran around the rock was a sheep 

 vanishing behind another big rock a hundred yards 

 away. 



Cursing my luck, but knowing that there was 

 very little use in attempting to follow them, I 

 wended my way toward another mountain, and as 

 the sheep happened to be going my way, I more or 

 less followed their trail, not with any hope of 

 seeing them again but simply because their way 

 was my way. Reaching the other mountain, I 

 found myself in open pine and juniper timber, and 

 to my great surprise soon noticed from the sign in 

 the snow that the sheep had scattered; in fact, had 

 commenced to feed. I of course devoted myself 

 to the track of the big ram and proceeded as care- 

 fully as if walking on eggs. 



I followed him for perhaps a quarter of a mile, 

 the wind being right, and this time holding true. 

 I finally noticed the track pass around a very large 

 juniper tree, one of those large and dense junipers 



298 



