“Don’t they ever miss their footing?” cried Ralph wonderingly.
“Well, I’ve traveled aroun’ these parts fer a good many years,” replied Jim judicially, “and I ain’t never found hair nor hide of a carcass killed that way, and no more I reckon did anybody else.”
Jim went on to describe to the boys how wise and cunning the mountain goats are, gifted with an intelligence far beyond that possessed by most wild creatures. He also related to them an anecdote concerning an ewe whom he had seen defend her kid from the attack of an eagle. The eagle had swooped down on the kid and knocked it head over heels. It was about to fix its talons into the fleecy coat and fly off to its eerie with the little creature, when the old mother became aware of what was going on. Like a thunderbolt she charged down on the eagle, which tried in vain to get away. But its own greediness proved its undoing, for its talons were tangled in the young goat’s coat and it could not rise, and the mother speedily tramped and butted it to death. While she was doing this some old rams looked on as if it were no concern of theirs. They seemed to know that the mother was quite able to fight her own battles.
“Think there’s any chance of our getting a shot at them?” asked young Ware, vibrant with excitement.
“Don’t see why not,” responded Mountain Jim. “It’s not a hard climb up there, and I reckon they’ll stay there till to-morrow anyhow, as there’s pasturage and grass on the plateau and they’re working down to it.”
The professor demurred at first at allowing the boys to go hunting the goats, but after Jim had promised to bring them back safe and sound he gave his consent. Early the next day, therefore, the party set out, leaving only Jimmie and the professor in camp. Jimmie had by this time become quite a valuable assistant to the scientist, and the quiet occupation of collecting specimens appeared to suit him far better than the more strenuous sports the rugged boys enjoyed.
For a couple of hours, after skirting the little lake, they climbed steadily. Up they went among, apparently, endless banks of climbing pines, and traversed strips of loose gravel here and there that sent clattering pebbles down the slope under their feet.
Then they left the last of the dwindling pine belt behind them and pushed along on a slope strewn with broken rock and debris that made walking arduous.
“Great sport this, hunting mountain goats, ain’t it, boys?” said Jim with a grin as the boys begged him to rest a while, for Jim appeared to be made of chilled steel and gristle when it came to climbing.