60 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 



Of course only Mr. Phillips and I carried rifles; 

 and we agreed that the left man should take the left 

 animal. 



"It's a hundred and fifty yards!" said Mack Nor- 

 boe, in a hoarse whisper. 



My goat was grazing behind the trunk of a fallen 

 tree, which shielded his entire body. I waited, and 

 waited; and there he stood, with his head down, and 

 calmly cropped until I became wildly impatient. I 

 think he stood in one spot for five minutes, feeding upon 

 Pulsatilla. 



" Why don't you shoot? " queried Phillips, in wonder. 



" I can't! My goat's hiding behind a tree." 



"Well, fire when you're ready, Gridley, and I'll 

 shoot when you do ! " 



It must have been five minutes, but it seemed like 

 twenty-five, before that goat began to feel a thrill of life 

 along his keel, and move forward. The annoying sus- 

 pense had actually made me unsteady; besides which, my 

 Savage was a new one, and unchristened. Later on I 

 found that the sights were not right for me, and that 

 my first shooting was very poor. 



At last my goat stood forth, in full view, white, 

 immaculate, high of hump, low of head, big and bulky. 

 I fired for the vitals behind shoulder. 



"You've overshot!" exclaimed Norboe, and 



" Bang!" said Mr. Phillips's Winchester. 



Neither of us brought down our goat at the first fire! 



I fired again, holding much lower, and the goat 

 reared up a foot. Mr. Phillips fired again, whereupon 



