314 BIG GAME FIELDS 



cautiously peering around a sharp ledge the 

 outcropping rock was empty and bare the goat 

 had fled I almost smiled, I didn't want to kill 

 him anyway, I told myself. But Mac had a 

 different version of it. He assigned me to this 

 post, to remain indefinitely and wide awake. 

 Then he lost himself among the crags and fis- 

 sures, and the last I saw of him, his trail was 

 pointing up to heaven and the going of him was 

 amazing. 



There was an unearthly, painful silence up 

 there; the minutes dragged slowly by; I was 

 wishing for something to happen and it did, 

 very suddenly, too. A great rock tore and 

 bounced its way down the cliff. Then Mac stood 

 up on a pinnacle above, gave a shout and pointed 

 below. In magnificent bounds and leaps a great 

 white goat was coming down the rocky peak and 

 just as he topped a rock in front I fired. He 

 collapsed and continued down the mountain, but 

 rolling and bouncing now and not of his own 

 volition. The goat hunt was over, and as Mac 

 stood looking down a broad smile swept across his 

 face. 



