It would seem as though he spoke aloud purposely, knowing what the effect was apt to be. Every feeding big-horn raised its head instantly, and for the space of several seconds stood there as though carved out of stone.
A better chance for a shot could not be imagined.
"Bang!"
"Whang!"
That was Smithy firing first, and the second report told that Step Hen's little thirty-thirty was on the job instantly.
One big-horn sheep fell over on the rock, and kicked several times. It might have fallen over the ledge only that somehow the body seemed to become fast in a crotch; and there it lay in a tantalizing position, for only by a most difficult climb downward could it be reached at all.
"Oh! I hit mine, and he's fallen down there!" cried Smithy in a voice that just thrilled with wild exultation; and hardly had he said this than he added, in a deeply crushed tone: "Oh! wasn't that too cruel of him now, to just bound off on his horns like they were skies, and get on his feet again? There he goes now, and see him limp, will you, fellows? I hit him, yes, I surely did!"
"Well, he's gone, and that's the last you're likely to see of him, more's the pity," said Step Hen; "but look at my game, would you, stuck there in among them rocks? Toby, we must manage to get him, some way or other. Tell me how it can be done, won't you?"
The guide scratched his head, as if himself a bit puzzled.
"Only one way I kin see, boys," he observed, "and that means a lot more climbing for us."