With a shriek of consternation they scattered and fled up the heights at racing speed.
A burst of laughter from the settlers,—all the more hearty that no damage had been done,—increased the terror inspired by the shot, and seemed to invest the animals with invisible wings.
“Tally-ho!” shouted Considine in excitement.
“The black ane for ever!” cried Sandy.
“I’ll back the grey one with the short tail,” said Kenneth McTavish, coming up at the moment, “although she has two little ones clinging to her.”
“Ten to one,” cried Jerry, bending eagerly forward, “on the blue-nosed grandmother wi’ the baby on her back!”
It did indeed seem as if Jerry’s favourite was going to reach the top of the crags before any of the other horrified creatures, for she was powerful as well as large, and her burden was particularly small. The infant required no assistance, but clung to its dam with its two little hands like a limpet, so that she could use her limbs freely. But an unusually long and vigorous bound chanced to loosen the little one’s grasp. It fell off with a pitiful shriek, and, with an imploring upward look on its miserable countenance, clasped its little hands in mute despair.
Granny or mamma,—we know not which,—with the quick intuition of a great general, took in the whole position like a flash of light. She turned on the ledge she had gained and dropped her tail. Baby seized it and clambered up. Then away she went like a rocket, and before the little one had well regained its former position she had topped the ridge full two yards ahead of the whole troop!
“Well done!” cried McTavish.
“Huzza!” shouted Jerry.