They started in to climb. Tom, as he said, had figured it pretty well all out, and in this way better progress was made than Felix would have thought possible.
Sometimes it turned out to be easy enough; and then again, they would either have to go around some obstruction, or else make a difficult ascent of a small cliff.
When noon came they had ascended a pretty good distance, and Felix saw that the green patch was much closer. Indeed, he could easily make out the bighorns now, and even counted them several times.
"Seven all told, in sight, Tom?" he remarked. "And I wonder if they'll still be there when we get within range, if we ever manage it?"
"If not, we must lie over until tomorrow, and take chances that way," replied the other. "For after going to all this trouble, we must try and get a sheep, just for the horns; because the mutton of a big fellow will dent your teeth."
"Have you got our route all mapped out above here?" asked Felix.
"Yes; and from now on we must be careful not to let them glimpse us even once," returned the Western boy. "I haven't hunted sheep before, but I know something of them, and they're mighty suspicious animals."
"I notice that we've got the wind in our faces," continued the other.
"Oh! sure, we couldn't have done the first thing any other way," Tom declared, as they once more started off.
An hour later, and Felix was allowed to creep to the edge of a little ridge of rock in order to take an observation. He found they had made such splendid progress that it almost seemed as though he might try to bring down that fellow sporting the massive horns, but then Tom had warned him that distances were deceiving up in that clear mountain air, and if so, after all he would be apt to make a mess of it should he try.