His arm was on the stone; he knew he ought to hold straight, but the shot was long and the hole in the telescopic sight was small. Perhaps he was too keen, for although Stannard had got a noble head, he himself had not yet fired a shot, but when he began to pull the trigger his hand shook. He stopped and drew his breath, and the sheep moved.
"He's going," said Bob, and Jimmy crooked his finger.
The rifle jerked. In the distance, a small shower of dust leaped up and the sheep jumped on a stone. In a moment it would vanish and Jimmy savagely snapped out the cartridge. Then he saw a pale flash and knew the report of Stannard's English rifle. The sheep plunged from the stone, struck the ground, and began to roll down the incline. Its speed got faster and Jimmy thought it went down like a ball. In a few moments it would reach the top of the precipice, and if it plunged across they would not find its broken body. Then it struck a rock and stopped, so far as one could see, a few yards from the edge. Stannard gave Bob his rifle and picked up the glasses.
"A fine head! Call Deering, Jimmy. I think we can get down."
Jimmy thought not, but he shouted and Deering arrived and studied the ground.
"Looks awkward, but perhaps we can make it."
"You have got to make it! You don't want to leave a sheep like that about," said Bob.
Stannard gave him a keen glance, but Deering said, "Let's try; I've brought the rope. If you'll lead, Stannard, I'll tie on at the top. We'll leave Jimmy."
"Since I missed my shot, I ought to go," Jimmy objected.
"My weight's a useful anchor and you're not up to Stannard's form," Deering rejoined and they put on the rope.