But now Jesse saw the band of goats apparently take alarm at something. They turned and began to disperse, some of them climbing slowly up the apparently perpendicular rock face.
“They’ll run right into John!” exclaimed Jesse. “There he is—there, he’s shot! Got him, too!”
They heard the faint sound of the report of the rifle come down from above, and could see the fall of the goat as he slipped and rolled among the rocks.
“Well done,” said Uncle Dick. “They’ve both done their work well, Jesse, and I am pretty sure we’ll have both goat pictures and goat steaks, all we want. I’m glad John did not get crazy and shoot a lot of those poor creatures.”
“Come on,” said Jesse, “let’s run up to where they are.”
In due time they climbed up to where Rob and Jesse were sitting by the side of the dead goat. The boys waved their hats to one another as Jesse approached, smiling and panting.
“I saw it all,” said Jesse, “right in the field-glasses, close up. That’s fine, isn’t it?”
Rob and John both began to talk at once, while Uncle Dick stood smilingly looking down at the dead goat.
“I could have killed two or three big ones,” said John. “What heads they had, too!”
“What could we have done with them?” asked his uncle. “No, you did quite right in killing this yearling—it’s all we want. And I think Rob had the hardest task of any of us; it’s easier to shoot a goat with a rifle than with a camera.”