“Just like women!” Mike observed with a laugh.
“That’s right.” Hank grinned. “I guess they like to gossip. And then you’ll usually see some kids around if it’s a nanny.”
“Anything else?” Sandy asked.
“One more thing. Nannies are snow-white, but billies get dirty. From the color, I’ll bet that goat’s a billy.”
“Okay,” Mike said. “Now how do we get him?”
They were separated from their quarry by a deep box canyon whose sides plunged almost straight down from the narrow ledge at their feet. To reach the goat, they would have to work their way down the sheer rock wall, cross over a small stream that flowed along the canyon floor and then climb up the far side.
But instead of heading directly into the canyon, Hank Dawson led them along the narrow ledge, around to the other side of the mountain.
“We can’t climb right up under his nose,” he explained. “He’d spot us for sure. We’re going to have to get behind and above him.”
“Is there a trail up there?” Mike asked.
“I doubt it. You all set for a rough ride?”