WILD GOAT SHOOTING ON THE DESERTAS. 



LAURENCE MOTT. 



The yacht was lying off the town of 

 Funchal, Madeira. We were only to stay 

 2 days, as we were homeward bound and in 

 a hurry to get to New York; but as I had 

 received a tempting invitation from the 

 owner of the Desertas islands, which lie 

 20 miles to the Westward from Funchal, to 

 shoot over them, I decided to take the 2 

 days and go over to the islands after wild 

 goats. Leaving the yacht one morning at 1 

 o'clock, i - the cutter, we sailed across and 

 reached our destination at 7 o'clock. I say 

 we because I took 2 sailors with me, be- 

 sides a Portuguese, whom the owner of the 

 islands recommended as a good guide. 

 We tumbled our stuff ashore and while the 

 men got a fire going for breakfast I took 

 the glasses and climbed up 100 feet or so 

 on the cliffs to get a look about. It was 

 the most desolate sight I ever saw ; no 

 vegetation of any kind, except here and 

 there a few patches of moss. Nothing but 

 rocks and cliffs towering some 2,000 feet 

 from the water's edge. I could see no pos- 

 sible chance of getting to the top, as the 

 cliffs seemed perpendicular everywhere. 



After breakfast we made everything fast 

 in case there should be a blow while we 

 were gone, and started. I had never done 

 any high climbing, and the altitudes both- 

 ered me. In some places we edged along 

 goat paths not 4 feet wide with the cliff on 

 one side and a sheer drop of 1,000 or 1,500 

 feet on the other. Two or 3 times on the 

 way up we saw goats, but they either were 

 too far off to attempt even stalking, or they 

 saw us just about the time we saw them, 

 and disappeared. It took us 2^2 hours to 

 reach the top, and I was nearly exhausted 

 when we got there. 



"Francisco," I said, "where are the 

 goats?" 



"Find some plent' quick now," the guide 

 answered ; so we trudged on, sneaking 

 from rock to rock and crawling on our 

 hands and knees whenever we came to a 

 turn in the oath, lest there should be goats 

 on the other side. The native method of 

 hunting is primitive and tiresome. They 

 creep along for hours sometimes, and when 

 they see a ?oat they hide themselves com- 

 fortably, trusting to luck that the animal 

 will come toward them. The goats are 

 very wild and "light out" at the slightest 

 movement or noise on the part of the hun- 

 ter. 



We had been dragging ourselves slowly 

 along for an hour when the guide, who was 

 ahead, suddenly dropped flat. I quickly 

 followed his example and awaited further 



developments. In a few moments he mo- 

 tioned to me carefully, and I wriggled 

 along the ledge till I got to him. Follow- 

 ing the direction of his eyes I saw on the 

 edge of a cliff, some 250 yards away and 

 fairly well above us, 4 goats. With the 

 glasses I could see that one of them was 

 a large buck with a fine pair of horns. 

 They were nibbling some bits of moss and 

 had not discovered us. I got my Win- 

 chester 30-40 carefully in position and 

 waited for a favorable opportunity. At 

 last the "bigga one," as Francisco called 

 him, stepped to the edge of the cliff, as 

 though trying to get a better view of our 

 position. I thought that my best chance 

 and let him have it, taking sight at his 

 shoulder as nearly as I could make it. 

 When I fired the buck jumped forward and 

 fell clear of the ledge. Down he went, 

 turning over and over in the air. 



"Buono, buono!" ejaculated the guide; 

 "me get." 



Before I could say a word he was 

 over the edge of the path we were ly- 

 ing on and was going down the cliff at a 

 break-neck pace. I thought surely he 

 would kill himself, as one misstep would 

 have plunged him about 1,600 feet into 

 the water ; but in another hour I heard a 

 faint shout, and looking over the edge I 

 saw him standing by the body of the goat. 



While I waited for him to get back I 

 took the glasses, and leaving my rifle on 

 the ledge I climbed up to a pinnacle about 

 150 feet above me. From there I com- 

 manded a much more extensive view, and 

 to my delight I discovered a bunch of 6 

 goats around in the next chasm but one. 

 They were evidently out of hearing of the 

 shot, as they were all lying down in the 

 warm sunlight. I hurriedly scrambled back 

 to the ledge where I had left my rifle, and 

 leaving my pipe and tobacco pouch there to 

 show Francisco I would be back, I started. 

 It was nervous work, all alone, but in 2 

 hours I was within 300 yards of the bunch. 

 I could get no nearer, as there was no way 

 but a narrow ledge and that was in full 

 sight of the goats. For half an hour I 

 waited, hoping they would move up to the 

 ledge where I could get a shot. Finally 

 they got up hurriedly and started along the 

 path they were on. but away from me, so 

 I fired at the largest buck and missed. 

 The bullet struck close, and the brute 

 must have heard it whistle, as it covered 

 him with sand and dirt. They all disap- 

 peared like a flash, and I was cursing my 

 poor marksmanship when something mov- 



