Mountain Game. 119 



and indeed dangerous, of ascent. From the top of the 

 saddle a careful scrutiny of the neighboring peaks failed 

 to reveal any game, and we began to go down the other 

 side. The mountain fell away in a succession of low 

 cliffs, and we had to move with the utmost caution. In 

 letting ourselves down from ledge to ledge one would 

 hold the guns until the other got safe footing, and then 

 pass them down to him. In many places we had to work 

 our way along the cracks in the faces of the frost-riven 

 rocks. At last, just as we reached a little smooth shoulder, 

 my companion said, pointing down beneath us, " Look at 

 the white goat ! " 



A moment or two passed before I got my eyes on it. 

 We were looking down into a basin-like valley, surrounded 

 by high mountain chains. At one end of the basin was a 

 low pass, where the ridge was cut up with the zigzag trails 

 made by the countless herds of game which had travelled 

 it for many generations. At the other end was a dark 

 gorge, through which a stream foamed. The floor of the 

 basin was bright emerald green, dotted with darker bands 

 where belts of fir trees grew ; and in its middle lay a 

 little lake. 



At last I caught sight of the goat, feeding on a terrace 

 rather over a hundred and twenty-five yards below me. 

 I promptly fired, but overshot. The goat merely gave a 

 few jumps and stopped. My second bullet went through 

 its lungs ; but fearful lest it might escape to some inac- 

 cessible cleft or ledge I fired again, missing ; and yet 

 again, breaking its back. Down it went, and the next 

 moment began to roll over and over, from ledge to ledge. 



