The Wild Goat on Orizaba 229 



California was before us and the islands of the sea. 



Perhaps you have led a horse down the rocky slope 

 of a mountain where the trail is a matter of fiction, a 

 trail by courtesy, where the horse slides and you are 

 continually stepping aside to allow him to pass, then 

 rounding him up by the riata which you have fastened 

 about his neck to anchor him by. If so you know its 

 difficulties and delights. Half-way down we came to 

 the end of navigation on a bed of broken rock, and it 

 was by a special dispensation that we got out and down, 

 the dispensation being clever horses. 



We followed up the cafton to its head, climbed Black 

 Jack, and on the way up got the shot that gave us the 

 big head as a trophy, shooting the goat across the gulch 

 by mere good fortune. It was two o'clock that after- 

 noon when we secured the game and started home 

 down the canon, after a series of seemingly endless 

 climbs, taking six hours to secure one pair of horns. 



Hunting the wild goat is not always so difficult. I 

 have run upon them in the lowlands, and there are 

 places well known to Mexican Joe and Joe Adargo, the 

 guides, where they can be had with less difficulty. But 

 I believe the sportsman will not care for the easy places, 

 as the climb over these mountains, the wildness of the 

 scenery from the summits, the beauty of the canons 

 and their verdure, will well repay the effort. A fine 

 hunting-ground is that on the south-west side of the 

 island, where it rises and faces the sea in cliffs often so 

 precipitous that even the wild goat cannot crawl down. 



