PHOTOGRAPHING MOUNTAIN SHEEP 73 



" Or an old silver-tip, eh, Charlie? " cried Mr. 

 Phillips. 



"No; it's no silver-tip." 



We started in a mad scramble along the mountain- 

 side, and before ten paces had been covered each man 

 had thrown a loaded cartridge into the barrel of his 

 rifle. We had not moved more than fifty paces from 

 the goat rocks when we saw two brown-gray animals 

 scurrying nimbly and swiftly along the tree-covered 

 mountain-side, almost on our contour line, and coming 

 straight toward us. Exclamations flew all about. 



" Here they come ! " " Sheep ! " " Mountain sheep ! " 



Mechanically we threw our rifles into position, but 

 Charlie cried out sharply, 



"Don't shoot, men! Don't shoot! They're both 

 ewes! " 



On they came, headed straight for us, and the com- 

 bined nimbleness and strength with which they ran was 

 beautiful to see. They carried their heads well up, ran 

 close together, and their speed was astonishing. They 

 seemed to sweep over the ground as easily as a hawk flies. 



They did not see us until they were within about a 

 hundred feet, and then in a graceful curve they swerved 

 off sharply downhill, and flew for safety to the rocky 

 wall below. Then they disappeared. As they passed 

 near us, we saw that the one in the lead was a full- 

 grown ewe, and the other a two-year-old ram. 



As soon as we could recover from our astonishment, 

 and get our thoughts once more in motion, we naturally 

 concluded that the sheep had kept on running, and soon 



