“I don’t see where they’ve gone,” said Jesse, who was steadily watching through the glasses.
“Give them time,” said Uncle Dick. “You must remember that Rob has to get pretty close in order to make the photograph. I’m sure they’re within rifle-range now.”
“Oh, there they are!” whispered Jesse, a little later. “I see them now. They’re up above the goats, and crawling right down toward them. Now there’s old Rob, he’s trying to get to the edge of the rocks; I can see he’s got his camera all ready. He’ll be on top of them, almost, if he gets there.”
“Good boy, Rob!” said Uncle Dick, approvingly. “He has made a good stalk of it.”
Jesse, still gazing through the glasses, now saw his two friends slowly advancing, clinging like flies to the steep rock’s face, but all the time getting closer to their game. The goats seemed not to suspect an enemy, but lay or stood about in perfect unconcern. They did not have any sentinel posted, as the mountain sheep often will, but seemed to feel perfectly secure from all intrusion.
At last Jesse saw Rob stand up straight and walk forward rapidly with his camera in front of him. The goats now heard or scented him, for at once they all stood up and turned toward him, facing him silent and motionless.
“They don’t know what he is!” exclaimed Jesse. “They’re just looking at him. No, there goes a big one right up toward him.”
“In that case,” said Uncle Dick, “Rob will get his picture, sure.” An easy prophecy, for, as a matter of fact, Rob secured several very good pictures of the old goat and the others, as he stood rapidly working his camera, almost in the face of the fearless old billy which advanced toward him so pugnaciously.