AMONGST THE WILD GOATS OF THE CASCADES. 287 



we reached the ridge above, where enough level 

 ground existed for a tent, and there, among deep 

 drifts of snow, we camped. Not far below camp we 

 had observed fresh tracks of goats, and bunches of their 

 white fleeces hanging pendent upon numerous twigs, 

 and clinging to giant trunks of trees where standing 

 room existed, or where it was level enough for a goat 

 to lie, resembling the tame sheep's wool generally to 

 be seen attached to bushes or palings in England 

 where the animals are enclosed. 



There remained time for a stalk before night, 

 and, therefore, forth we started on our search, Jack 

 and I, the former barefoot, proceeding with extreme 

 caution. We had scarcely descended far, fighting 

 our way as much as possible towards the ravines 

 below the ridge on the landward side, when Jack, who 

 was in front, came within sight of a goat which was 

 making for the ravine, and seemed to have become 

 aware of danger, and for a few minutes it was lost to 

 sight. The wind was blowing from the right direc- 

 tion, and by taking special pains not to step on any 

 twigs we obtained another glimpse of the white fleece. 

 I fired twice, and after the second shot it disappeared. 

 We found it had rolled down for nearly a hundred 

 feet, and was lying dead, to my great joy, in the 

 angular bed of a stream edged with low scrub, in 

 which the water was half sliding, half falling down 

 such a dizzy declivity, that I wondered why the 

 animal had not vanished for ever into the awful depths 

 below. The second shot had struck the spine. Beau- 



