A Trip After Mountain Sheep 257 



front of our feet. On the sides, some feet above 

 our heads, were marks in the snow which a mo- 

 ment's glance showed us had been made by a couple 

 of mountain sheep that had come down one side of 

 the gorge and had leaped across to the other, their 

 sharp toes going through the thin snow and dis- 

 placing the earth that had fallen to the bottom. 

 The tracks had evidently been made just before we 

 rounded the corner, and as we had been advancing 

 noiselessly on the snow with the wind in our favor, 

 we knew that the animals could have no suspicion 

 of our presence. They had gone up the cliff on our 

 right, but as that on our left was much lower, and 

 running for some distance parallel to the other, we 

 concluded that by running along its top we would 

 be most certain to get a good shot. Clambering 

 instantly up the steep side, digging my hands and 

 feet into the loose snow, and grasping at every little 

 rock or frozen projection, I reached the top; and 

 then ran forward along the ridge a few paces, 

 crouching behind the masses of queerly-shaped 

 sandstone; and saw, about ninety yards off across 

 the ravine, a couple of mountain rams. The one 

 with the largest horns was broadside toward me, 

 his sturdy, massive form outlined clearly against 

 the sky, as he stood on the crest of the ridge. I 

 dropped on my knee, raising the rifle as I did so; 

 for a second he did not quite make me out, turning 

 his head half round to look. I held the sight fairly 

 on the point just behind his shoulder and pulled the 

 trigger. At the report he staggered and pitched 



