298 



The Wild Sheep of the Sierra. 



At the base of Sheep Rock, one of 

 the winter strongholds of the Shasta 

 flocks, there lives a stock-raiser who 

 has the advantage of observing the 

 movements of wild sheep every winter; 

 and, in the course of a conversation 

 with him on the subject of their 

 diving habits, he pointed to the front 

 of a lava headland about a hundred 

 and fifty feet high which is only eight 

 or ten degrees out of the perpendic- 

 ular. "There," said he, "I followed 

 a band of them fellows to the back 

 of that rock yonder, and expected to 

 capture them all, for I thought I had 

 a dead thing on them. I got behind 

 them on a narrow bench that runs 

 along the face of the wall near the 

 top and comes to an end where they 

 couldn't get away without falling and 

 being killed ; but they jumped off and 

 landed all right. 



"What!" said I, "jumped a hun- 

 dred and fifty feet ! Did you see 

 them do it ? " 



" No," he replied, " I didn't see 

 them going down, for I was behind 

 them ; but I saw them go off over the 

 )rink, and then I went below and 

 found their tracks where they struck 

 on the loose debris at the bot- 

 tom. They sailed right off, and 

 landed on their feet right side 

 up. That's the kind of animal 

 they is — beats anything else 

 that goes on four legs." 

 On another occasion, a flock that was pursued by hunters re- 

 treated to another portion of this same cliff where it is still higher, 



JUMPING OVER A PRECIPICE. 



