82 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 



lost behind the rocks! The chance was not nearly so 

 good as it looked. 



But minutes passed, and no goats returned. It be- 

 came evident that the dawdling pair had lain down 

 behind the sheltering crag, for a siesta in the sun. We 

 composed ourselves to await their pleasure, and in our 

 first breath of opportunity, looked off south-easterly, over 

 the meadow whereon the two goats had been feeding. 

 And then we saw a sight of sights. 



Rising into view out of a little depression on the far- 

 ther side of the meadow, lazily sauntering along, there 

 came ten big, snow-white billy goats! They were head- 

 ing straight toward us, and there was not a nanny, nor a 

 kid, nor even a young billy in the bunch. The air was 

 clear; the sun was shining brightly, the meadow was like 

 dark olive-brown plush, and how grandly those big, 

 pure-white creatures did loom up ! When first seen they 

 were about four hundred yards away, but our glasses 

 made the distance seem only one-third of that. 



For more than an hour we lay flat on our pinnacle, 

 and watched those goats. No one thought of time. It 

 was a chance of a lifetime. My companions were pro- 

 foundly surprised by the size of the collection; for pre- 

 vious to that moment, no member of our party ever had 

 seen more than four big male goats in one bunch. 



The band before us was at the very top of a sky- 

 meadow of unusual luxuriance, which climbed up out of 

 the valley on our right, and ran on up to the comb of 

 rock that came down from Phillips Peak. In area the 

 meadow was five hundred yards wide, and half a mile 



