It was nearly noon before the packs were off and the tent up, and then it was time to cook and eat, so that it was one o’clock before they mounted again and rode off. Hugh followed the westerly branch of the stream and, after a little search, found a game trail which led up the steep bank and brought them to the level of the valley, above the forty-foot precipice over which the stream poured. Here the ground was level and timber-covered, but they soon came out on rolling land which rose steadily toward the mountain and was dotted with clumps of trees.
The stream, which they had been following, came from a beautiful lake of clear, green water, in which two or three harlequin ducks were swimming, among little fragments of ice floating in the water.
The three travelers dismounted and, sitting down beneath a pine tree, looked over the lake and scanned the rocks above it.
Presently Hugh said, “Boys, do you want to see some goats?”
“Yes,” replied Jack, “I’ve been looking for them, but I don’t see any.”
“Well,” said Hugh, “I’ll tell you why. You’re looking too high up in the air. Look down here in the valley, just below the edge of the snow, and see what you can see.”
The boys looked, and there, to their astonishment, saw several herds of goats feeding on the young grass that grew on the slopes of the mountains.
“Plenty of goats,” said Joe.
“You bet, they’re plenty,” agreed Jack. “Let’s count them.” They did so and found that there were no less than forty-three goats in sight and none of them at a level higher than they were.
“Quite a show, isn’t it?” said Hugh. “I don’t remember that I ever saw so many goats at one view, as we’re looking at now. It wouldn’t be much of a trick to get goat meat here, if we wanted it.”