THE MOUNTAIN GOAT AT HOME 53 



but what would there have been in that of any interest 

 to a sportsman? I had not asked any goats to come 

 down to our camp, and lie down to be shotl 



Not caring greatly whether I got that goat or not, 

 I attempted a stalk along the western side of the ridge, 

 through the dead timber, and well below him. But the 

 old fellow was not half so sleepy as he looked. When 

 finally I came up to a point that was supposed to com- 

 mand his works, I found that he had winded me. He 

 had vanished from his resting-place, and was already far 

 up the side of Bald Mountain, conducting a masterly 

 retreat. 



After a hurried breakfast, we made ready for a day 

 with the goats on the northern mountains. Although 

 there are many things in favor of small parties, the 

 best consisting of one guide and one hunter, we all went 

 together, Mr. Phillips, Mack, Charlie and I. Our 

 leader declared a determination to " see the director 

 shoot his first goat " ; and I assured the others that the 

 services of all would be needed in carrying home my 

 spoils. 



As we turned back toward camp, and took time to 

 look " at the sceneries," the view westward, toward Bull 

 River, disclosed a cloud effect so beautiful that Mr. 

 Phillips insisted upon photographing it, then and there. 

 To give the " touch of life " which he always demanded, 

 I sat in, as usual. 



By Mr. Phillips's advice, I put on suspenders and 

 loosened my cartridge-belt, in order to breathe with per- 

 fect freedom. We wore no leggings. Our shoes were 



