182 RANCH LIFE AND THE HUNTING-TRAIL 



in rivalry. That is, each would take a shot in turn, aiming at the head 

 of the bird, as it perched motionless on the limb of a tree or stopped for a 

 second while running along the ground ; then if he missed or hit the bird 

 anywhere but in the head, the other scored one and took the shot. The 

 resulting tally was a good test of comparative skill ; and rivalry always 

 tends to keep a man's shooting up to the mark. 



Once or twice, when we had slain deer, we watched by the carcasses, 

 hoping that they would attract a bear, or perhaps one of the huge timber 

 wolves whose mournful, sinister howling we heard each night. But there 

 were no bears in the valley ; and the wolves, those cruel, crafty beasts, 

 were far too cunning to come to the bait while we were there. We saw 

 nothing but crowds of ravens, whose hoarse barking and croaking filled 

 the air as they circled around overhead, lighted in the trees, or quarreled 

 over the carcass. Yet although we saw no game it was very pleasant to 

 sit out, on the still evenings, among the tall pines or on the edge of a 

 great gorge, until the afterglow of the sunset was dispelled by the beams 

 of the frosty moon. Now and again the hush would be suddenly broken 

 by the long howling of a wolf, that echoed and rang under the hollow 

 woods and through the deep chasms until they resounded again, while it 

 made our hearts bound and the blood leap in our veins. Then there 

 would be silence once more, broken only by the rush of the river and the 

 low moaning and creaking of the pines ; or the strange calling of the 

 owls might be answered by the far-off, unearthly laughter of a loon, its 

 voice carried through the stillness a marvelous distance from the little 

 lake on which it was swimming. 



One day, after much toilsome and in places almost dangerous work, we 

 climbed to the very top of the nearest mountain chain, and from it looked 

 out over a limitless, billowy field of snow-capped ranges. Up above the 

 timber line were snow-grouse and huge, hoary-white woodchucks, but no 

 trace of the game we were after ; for, rather to our surprise, the few goat 

 signs that we saw were in the timber. I did not catch another glimpse 

 of the animals themselves until my holiday was almost over and we were 

 preparing to break camp. Then I saw two. I had spent a most labo- 

 rious day on the mountain as usual, following the goat paths, which were 

 well-trodden trails leading up the most inaccessible places ; certainly the 

 white goats are marvelous climbers, doing it all by main strength and 

 perfect command over their muscles, for they are heavy, clumsy seeming 

 animals, the reverse of graceful, and utterly without any look of light 

 agility. As usual, towards evening I was pretty well tired out, for it 

 would be difficult to imagine harder work than to clamber unendingly 



