IN THE GOAT AND GLACIER FIELDS 



Mountain) on which we were to hunt the oream- 

 nos montanus today. As we approached this 

 mountain, various "goats" were pointed out by 

 different members of our party. Usually, on 

 closer inspection, they turned out to be either 

 white rocks or patches of snow. One party per- 

 sisted in his belief that if a certain object was 

 not a live goat it certainly was a dead one. 

 Rocks turned into goats with the rapidity of 

 lightning. There was hardly a man who hadn't 

 some pet snow spot or rock that he tried to bring 

 to life with the glasses. 



Cap and others picked out some goats on one 

 of the higher mesas, and these proved to be the 

 only goats seen from the glacier. Finally we 

 approached the "shore-line," climbed onto solid 

 earth, left the horses on a good feeding ground in 

 charge of Jimmie Brown, and began the ascent 

 of the mountain. William James, Rogers, Bill 

 Longley and Billy Wooden bore to the right, 

 while Harry, Cap and I took to the left. After 

 ascending 1,000 feet, we heard some ten or twelve 

 shots, and looking down, saw William pointing 

 toward the mountain. We feared, however, that 

 he hadn't scored. Soon afterward we saw a band 

 of seventeen goats stringing away to the west- 

 ward, some hundreds of feet above us, presum- 

 ably frightened by William's shooting. 



We climbed higher, ate lunch, and then mov- 

 ing still higher counted thirty-three goats strung 

 out on the trail to the rear of and following the 



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