“Oh, look at them!” said he, after a while. “The young ones are playing like little sheep, jumping and butting around and having a regular frolic.”
“Any big ones?” asked Rob, quickly.
“I should say so; five or six, all sizes. And they look white as big pillows. There’s one that looks as though he had on white pants, and his long white beard makes him look like an old man. He’s looking right down the mountain. You can see them plain against that black rock.”
“Just like a goat,” said Uncle Dick. “They never try to hide themselves. And even when there’s snow on the mountains they’ll leave it and go lie on a black rock where everybody can see them. Well, come on, and we’ll see what sort of a stalk we can make on them.”
They went on much more cautiously now, under Dick’s guidance, keeping under cover in the low trees and working to one side and upward in the general direction of their game. It was hard work, and all the boys were panting when at last their leader called a halt.
“We’ll wait here,” said he, in a low tone of voice. He now unslung the rifle from his back and handed it to John. “You and Rob go on now,” said he. “Don’t shoot until Rob is done with his picture-making. And when you do shoot, don’t kill an old billy, for we couldn’t keep the head. Kill one of the young goats—I think there are two or three yearlings there. I wouldn’t shoot either of those two pairs of kids. They’re too little even for Moise, I think.”
“Where are you going, Uncle Dick?” asked Rob.
“Jesse and I are going to stop right here under cover, and Jesse shall have the sport of watching your hunt through the field-glasses—almost as good fun as going along himself. Go on now, and don’t lose any time.”
The two older boys now advanced carefully up the slope, using the cover of the trees as far as they could. They appeared in the open for a little time, only to disappear beyond a series of rocks which projected from the slope above them.