“But just look at the horns on that buck, Dick; how I would like to be able to get that pair to carry back with me.”
“I’m afraid you’d find it a hard job to get within shooting distance of them,” Dick observed, “for you can see that they seem to be on a little shelf where that grass grows, and from here I can discover no way of reaching it, except to jump a chasm.”
“Still, there must be some connection above us, Dick, and I’ve got a good notion to try it, if only you’ll take charge of my horse.”
“Well, I can plainly see you will never be happy until you have made your attempt,” Dick told him, “and so I suppose I’ll have to do as you ask. But promise me to be careful where you trust yourself, Roger. Remember, that you are no mountain goat, and that a fall from such a height would mean your finish.”
“Oh! I promise you to be as cautious as though my name were Dick instead of Roger. All I want to find out is whether I can get to a place where my gun will send a bullet fair and square. The moose fell to you, Dick, and I think I ought to have my chance at these wonderful jumpers of the mountains.”
“While you’re gone, Roger, I can stop here and watch what happens. If you do shoot, and frighten the herd, it may be I can see them do some of those wonderful things we’ve heard about, and not half believed. But watch your steps, Roger.”
Eager to discover if there was any way for him to get a shot at the feeding sheep, Roger hastened away. The last Dick saw of him, he was climbing the side of the mountain, stooping over as he went so that he might not be seen by the game he intended to stalk.
For some reason the party had halted below, and did not come along when Dick expected them. This might be fortunate for Roger, since it would keep the sheep from being startled by the appearance of numerous mounted men.
Watching the feeding animals, Dick could now count five in all. The one with the largest horns he imagined to be the patriarch of the flock; and he could easily guess that, if Roger found a chance to shoot, his eyes would fasten upon this prize beast, for the amazing curved horns had evidently fascinated the young hunter.
As time crept past Dick wondered how his cousin was progressing. Surely, by now, he must have been able to get within easy range of the unsuspicious sheep, and could pick out his quarry, if he really meant to shoot. A good deal would depend on whether Roger believed he could retrieve his game in case he shot it. If the poor beast had to lie on the little, grass-covered, slanting plateau Dick did not believe his chum would waste a load, merely for the sake of killing.