ON THE SHEEP RANGES 37 



reappeared on the crest. I dropped, but too late; they 

 had seen me. By some note of alarm the others were 

 attracted, all coming up with a spring, their eyes fastened 

 on me as if by magic. The chance for a close shot was 

 lost. 



One of the leaders started to run across the mountain- 

 side, followed by the whole band. As they ran, I fired 

 four times, and a smaller one turned and ran down the 

 canon, the rest keeping on toward a high peak. It was 

 evident that the single one was wounded, for through 

 the glasses blood could be seen about its head and fore- 

 legs. Some were just disappearing, when four stopped 

 under the peak and looked back, while the others went 

 over the top. The wounded ram seemed to be walking 

 with difficulty, yet kept slowly on to the bottom of the 

 canon, and then crossed to another mountain. Descend- 

 ing half-way to the foot of the slope, I stopped, hoping 

 that the ram would lie down ; meanwhile, the other four 

 high up near the peak were feeding. The wounded ram 

 travelled some distance along the side of the mountain 

 and lay down on a rock. I began to descend in plain 

 sight (concealment was impossible), but he saw me from 

 a long distance and was up and travelling at once. He 

 crossed the mountain-side and disappeared high up over 

 the other end. I went down, crossed the basin, and 

 climbed the side of the mountain, but could see no sign 

 of blood or tracks at the point where the ram was last 

 seen, nor could he be seen even with the field-glasses. A 

 short gully separated this mountain from another rough 

 range, where he had probably gone and so escaped me. 



