Part 12 (1/2)

”It looks as if horses had been here,” said Rob, ”yesterday, late.”

”Yes,” said Uncle d.i.c.k, smiling, ”but not horses, I should say.”

”Maybe not,” said Rob, doubtfully. ”But I thought maybe prospectors had been in here.”

”Only the original prospectors--the ones with white coats and long whiskers and sharp horns,” said Uncle d.i.c.k.

”But it looks like a regular trail!”

”It 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 gra.s.s 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 d.i.c.k 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 alt.i.tude where the trees were much smaller and more scattering, Uncle d.i.c.k stopped and took his field-gla.s.ses from the case. He lay for some time, resting the gla.s.ses on a big rock, sweeping all the country ahead of him with the gla.s.ses.

At last they saw him stop and gaze steadily at one spot for quite a while.

”See anything?” asked Jesse, eagerly.

Uncle d.i.c.k did not reply at once, but after a time handed Jesse the gla.s.ses. ”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 s...o...b..a.l.l.s, rather large ones.”

Jesse tried the gla.s.ses 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 gla.s.ses, 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 b.u.t.ting 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 d.i.c.k. ”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 d.i.c.k'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 d.i.c.k?” 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-gla.s.ses--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.