142 THE WILDERNESS HUNTER. 



being careful not to show ourselves against 

 the sky line, and scanning the mountain sides 

 through our glasses. At last we made out 

 three goats, grazing unconcernedly on a nar- 

 row grassy terrace, which sloped abruptly to 

 the brink of a high precipice. They were not 

 very far off, and there was a little rock spur 

 above them which offered good cover for a 

 stalk; but we had to crawl so slowly, partly 

 to avoid falling, and partly to avoid detaching 

 loose rocks, that it was nearly an hour before 

 we got in a favorable position above them, 

 and some seventy yards off. The frost-dis- 

 integrated mountains in which they live are 

 always sending down showers of detached 

 stones, so that the goats are not very sensitive 

 to this noise ; still, they sometimes pay in- 

 stantaneous heed to it, especially if the sound 

 is repeated. 



When I peeped over the little ridge of rock, 

 shoving my rifle carefully ahead of me, I found 

 that the goats had finished feeding and were 

 preparing to leave the slope. The old billy 

 saw me at once, but evidently could not quite 

 make me out. Thereupon, gazing intently at 

 me, he rose gravely on his haunches, sitting 

 up almost in the attitude of a dog when beg- 

 ging. I know no other horned animal that 

 ever takes this position. 



As I fired he rolled backwards, slipped 

 down the grassy slope, and tumbled over the 

 brink of the cliff, while the other two, a she 

 and a kid, after a moment's panic-struck 

 pause, and a bewildered rush in the wrong 

 direction, made off up a little rocky gully, and 

 were out of sight in a moment. To my 



