DAYS IN THE ROCKIES 327 
him.” In a few moments I saw the goat 
walk slowly around a ledge of rock and 
commence feeding in some scrub growth 
on the cliff. He was at least 1,500 yards 
distant, and across almost impassable 
cliffs. After taking a quick survey of the 
rocks, and as the quarry was several 
hundred feet below us, my guide went back 
down the mountainside until about on a 
level with him, and then crept cautiously 
over, while I made my way toward a large 
cliff which appeared to be not more than 
200 yards distant from the game, and from 
which I was to try a shot. 
- It took a little over an hour to gain the 
cliff, and upon looking over, the goat was 
nowhere to be seen. In the meantime the 
guide had taken up a position on some 
high rocks, from which he watched the 
movements of the quarry, and motioned 
me to go on toward the spot where the goat 
was last seen. He met me there, and 
pointed out the direction the game had 
taken. After a few moments’ rest we 
attempted to scale the cliff. The ledge 
became narrower and narrower as we ad- 
vanced, until at one place I was obliged to 
hold the rifles while the guide climbed 
around. I then handed them to him, and 
heeding advice not to look down, I managed 
with his assistance to get around. On 
we went to the top of the next cliff, but 
still no goat. So steep was the climb that 
by this time I was pretty well out of breath, 
but as we would be able to see quite a_dis- 
tance from the top of the rocks in front of 
us, I made a supreme effort to gain the 
ledge. Upon looking over into the ravine 
I at first did not see the goat, but the guide 
quickly pointed him out to me. He was 
a good-sized billy, and much closer than I~ 
had expected to see him—not over sixty 
yards—and as I threw up my rifle, he 
turned to run. 
down, and as he attempted to rise I fired 
a second time, whereupon he started to 
roll down the steep mountainside, and 
from the scene that followed for a while I 
regretted having shot him. As long as I 
could see him, he was going down the rocks, 
bounding from one to another, until 
finally he shot out into the air over a cliff 
fully one hundred feet EMeO and disappeared 
from view. 
The shot knocked the goat | 
I felt sure there was nothing left of my 
goat, but was more than agreeably surprised 
to find upon reaching him, that although 
the fall had burst him open, neither the 
head nor the hide was damaged. It took 
us the best part of two hours to get down 
to where he lay—fully a thousand feet Below 
where he was shot. 
The guide immediately went back across 
the mountainside after our little packs 
and the camera, which we had slipped off 
when the game was first sighted, and upon 
his return we went to work with a will to 
skin the quarry. ‘This billy was about as 
large and about as tough as the Rockies 
grow them, so it took us quite a while to get 
the hide off and the head nicely skinned. 
Having packed the trophy as best we could 
we decided to go back to the sawmill, then 

THE AUTHOR’S GUIDE, IN THE BEAR COUNTRY 
