The Greatest Works of Emerson Hough – 19 Books in One Volume (Illustrated Edition). Emerson Hough
Читать онлайн книгу.
is a regular trail, but if you will look closer you’ll see the hoof marks. Horses do not have split toes, my boy. In fact, I have no doubt this is the regular stairway of the goat family that lives on this mountain. Like enough they’ve been down in here to get some different sort of grass or water. They’ve evidently been using this path quite a while.”
“How high do you suppose they are now?” inquired John.
“Who can tell? A mile or two, or three, or five, for all I know. It will take us two or three hours to get up to the rim-rock, at least, and I’ve usually noticed that goats don’t stop much short of the rim-rock when they start to go up a hill. The sign is fresh, however, made late last night or very early this morning; I think with you, Rob, that it was yesterday.”
“How many are there?” inquired Jesse, bending over the broad trail.
“Hard to tell, for they’ve used this trail more than once. A dozen or more, I should say. Well, all we can do is to follow after them and thank them for showing us a good path.”
They climbed on up all the more eagerly now, and when they reached more open country where the sun shone fairly on them they soon were dripping with perspiration. But, young as were these hunters from Alaska, they were not inexperienced in mountain-climbing. They knew that the way to get up a mountain is to keep on slowly and steadily, not hurrying, and never resting very long at a time. Thus they advanced for three-quarters of an hour, until they could see still farther out over the country below them. Now they could see that the game had sometimes wandered about feeding, and the trail itself divided and grew fainter.
Uncle Dick pointed out all these things quietly and suggested that they would better be on the lookout. They advanced now more carefully, and whenever they came to the edge of an open reach or topped some shoulder of the slope they paused and examined the country ahead very carefully. At last, when they had reached an altitude where the trees were much smaller and more scattering, Uncle Dick stopped and took his field-glasses from the case. He lay for some time, resting the glasses on a big rock, sweeping all the country ahead of him with the glasses. At last they saw him stop and gaze steadily at one spot for quite a while.
“See anything?” asked Jesse, eagerly.
Uncle Dick did not reply at once, but after a time handed Jesse the glasses. “Look over there,” said he, “about half a mile, right at the foot of that rock wall. You’ll see something that looks like a flock of snowballs, rather large ones.”
Jesse tried the glasses for a time, and at last caught the spot pointed out to him. “I see,” said he, in a whisper. “Goats! Lots of them.” They showed so plainly in the glasses, in fact, that he spoke carefully, as though he feared to frighten them.
“Oh, look at them!” said he, after a while. “The young ones are playing like little sheep, jumping and butting around and having a regular frolic.”
“Any big ones?” asked Rob, quickly.
“I should say so; five or six, all sizes. And they look white as big pillows. There’s one that looks as though he had on white pants, and his long white beard makes him look like an old man. He’s looking right down the mountain. You can see them plain against that black rock.”
“Just like a goat,” said Uncle Dick. “They never try to hide themselves. And even when there’s snow on the mountains they’ll leave it and go lie on a black rock where everybody can see them. Well, come on, and we’ll see what sort of a stalk we can make on them.”
They went on much more cautiously now, under Dick’s guidance, keeping under cover in the low trees and working to one side and upward in the general direction of their game. It was hard work, and all the boys were panting when at last their leader called a halt.
“We’ll wait here,” said he, in a low tone of voice. He now unslung the rifle from his back and handed it to John. “You and Rob go on now,” said he. “Don’t shoot until Rob is done with his picture-making. And when you do shoot, don’t kill an old billy, for we couldn’t keep the head. Kill one of the young goats — I think there are two or three yearlings there. I wouldn’t shoot either of those two pairs of kids. They’re too little even for Moise, I think.”
“Where are you going, Uncle Dick?” asked Rob.
“Jesse and I are going to stop right here under cover, and Jesse shall have the sport of watching your hunt through the field-glasses — almost as good fun as going along himself. Go on now, and don’t lose any time.”
The two older boys now advanced carefully up the slope, using the cover of the trees as far as they could. They appeared in the open for a little time, only to disappear beyond a series of rocks which projected from the slope above them.
“I don’t see where they’ve gone,” said Jesse, who was steadily watching through the glasses.
“Give them time,” said Uncle Dick. “You must remember that Rob has to get pretty close in order to make the photograph. I’m sure they’re within rifle-range now.”
“Oh, there they are!” whispered Jesse, a little later. “I see them now. They’re up above the goats, and crawling right down toward them. Now there’s old Rob, he’s trying to get to the edge of the rocks; I can see he’s got his camera all ready. He’ll be on top of them, almost, if he gets there.”
“Good boy, Rob!” said Uncle Dick, approvingly. “He has made a good stalk of it.”
Jesse, still gazing through the glasses, now saw his two friends slowly advancing, clinging like flies to the steep rock’s face, but all the time getting closer to their game. The goats seemed not to suspect an enemy, but lay or stood about in perfect unconcern. They did not have any sentinel posted, as the mountain sheep often will, but seemed to feel perfectly secure from all intrusion.
At last Jesse saw Rob stand up straight and walk forward rapidly with his camera in front of him. The goats now heard or scented him, for at once they all stood up and turned toward him, facing him silent and motionless.
“They don’t know what he is!” exclaimed Jesse. “They’re just looking at him. No, there goes a big one right up toward him.”
“In that case,” said Uncle Dick, “Rob will get his picture, sure.” An easy prophecy, for, as a matter of fact, Rob secured several very good pictures of the old goat and the others, as he stood rapidly working his camera, almost in the face of the fearless old billy which advanced toward him so pugnaciously.
But now Jesse saw the band of goats apparently take alarm at something. They turned and began to disperse, some of them climbing slowly up the apparently perpendicular rock face.
“They’ll run right into John!” exclaimed Jesse. “There he is — there, he’s shot! Got him, too!”
They heard the faint sound of the report of the rifle come down from above, and could see the fall of the goat as he slipped and rolled among the rocks.
“Well done,” said Uncle Dick. “They’ve both done their work well, Jesse, and I am pretty sure we’ll have both goat pictures and goat steaks, all we want. I’m glad John did not get crazy and shoot a lot of those poor creatures.”
“Come on,” said Jesse, “let’s run up to where they are.”
In due time they climbed up to where Rob and Jesse were sitting by the side of the dead goat. The boys waved their hats to one another as Jesse approached, smiling and panting.
“I saw it all,” said Jesse, “right in the field-glasses, close up. That’s fine, isn’t it?”
Rob and John both began to talk at once, while Uncle Dick stood smilingly looking down at the dead goat.
“I could have killed two or three big ones,” said John. “What heads they had, too!”
“What could we have done with them?” asked his uncle. “No, you did quite right in killing this yearling — it’s all we want. And I think Rob had