The Mountain Sheep 203 



presently lay down in the sun near the bottom 

 of a rocky gulch. The whole of the gulch 

 we could not see, not even when we had crawled 

 down a side of the mountain, an endless surface 

 of rolling stones with scanty patches of grass 

 and an occasional steadfast rock. This descent 

 seemed the most taxing effort yet. It was nearly 

 always (and sometimes quite) impossible to stir a 

 foot or a hand, or shift any fraction of my weight, 

 without starting a rippling stream of stones that 

 chuckled and bounced and gathered noise as 

 they flowed downward, and finally sprang into a 

 rocky chasm which gave out hollow roars. I 

 often felt certain these sounds must reach the 

 ram ; but they were only next door to him, so to 

 speak, and separated by the tilted wall of moun- 

 tain which divided his gulch from the one down 

 the side of which I was so very gradually making 

 my way. I don't believe the whole distance could 

 have been more than three hundred yards ; yet I 

 was nearly thirty minutes accomplishing it with 

 the help of the grass tufts and every other fixture 

 that came within available reach in this sliding 

 sea of stones. I at length arrived where I wanted 

 to be, and a truly unkind thing happened : I was 

 taken with "buck-fever"! It didn't prevent my 



