ijo The Wilderness Hunter 



below rose the strangled roaring of the torrent, as 

 the foaming masses of green and white water 

 churned round the bowlders in the stream bed. Ex- 

 cept this humming of the wild water, and the sough- 

 ing of the pines, there was no sound. We were 

 sitting on a kind of jutting promontory of rock so 

 that we could scan the cliffs far and near. First I 

 took the glasses and scrutinized the ground almost 

 rod by rod, for nearly half an hour; then my com- 

 panion took them in turn. It is very hard to make 

 out game, especially when lying down, and still; 

 and it is curious to notice how, after fruitlessly scan- 

 ning a country through the glasses for a consider- 

 able period, a herd of animals will suddenly appear 

 in the field of vision as if by magic. In this case, 

 while my companion held the glasses for the second 

 time, a slight motion caught his eye; and looking 

 attentively he made out, five or six hundred yards 

 distant, a mountain ram lying among some loose 

 rocks and small bushes at the head of a little grassy 

 cove or nook, in a shallow break between two walls 

 of the cliff. So well did the bluish gray of its 

 body harmonize in tint with the rocks and shrub- 

 bery that it was some time before I could see it, 

 even when pointed out to me. 



The wind was favorable, and we at once drew 

 back and began a cautious stalk. It was impos- 

 sible, owing to the nature of the cliffs above and 

 below the bighorn's resting-place, to get a shot save 



