CHAPTER XXVIII.
AFTER MOUNTAIN GOATS.
The two days following were unmarked by any special incident. Jimmierode with the boys, becoming stronger and lighter-hearted every day.And yet they noticed a curious thing about the waif. Whenever themysterious man was spoken of he grew somber and silent. It was as ifsome link existed between himself and this wanderer of the mountains.The boys put this down to the fact that possibly Jimmie felt that, likehimself, this outcast of the hills was friendless and alone.
It was on the evening of the second day that they made camp beside oneof those beautiful little lakes that nestle in the bosom of the mightyRockies. Across the sheet of blue water the color of turquoise, a ridgerose steeply from the very water’s edge. The pines on it were thinnerthan usual, and appeared singularly free from underbrush. Far above thelake the smooth ascent broke off abruptly, and there appeared to bebeyond it a rocky plateau intervening between it and the farther wallof rock and snow that piled upward till it seemed to brush the sky.
While they were making camp Persimmons was gazing about and suddenly hedrew Ralph’s attention to some moving objects on the snow-covered crestabove the plateau. Mountain Jim was appealed to and decided that theobjects were mountain goats.
“A big herd of them, too,” he declared.
“Have a look through the binoculars,” urged Ralph, borrowing theprofessor’s glasses which he was far too busy with his rock specimensto use. Indeed, he hailed Ralph’s excited announcement with only mildinterest, being at that moment entering in his note-book a voluminousaccount of his discovery of some metamorphic rock in a region wherenone was thought previously to exist.
The glasses revealed the objects as mountain goats beyond a doubt. Theywere big, white fellows with high, humped shoulders and delicate hindquarters and black hoofs and horns. They looked not unlike miniaturebisons, although of course the resemblance was only superficial.
While they still gazed at the moving objects on the snow-capped ridge,Mountain Jim suddenly uttered a sharp exclamation.
“Look close now,” said he, “for you’ll see something worth looking atin a minute or two, or I miss my guess.”
The goats were at the summit of what appeared to be an absolutelyprecipitous rock wall. From where they watched it did not appear thata fly could have found foothold on its surface. The goats had paused.Ralph drew in a deep breath.
“Gracious! I do believe they are going to try to get down it,” heexclaimed.
“And that ain’t all,” declared Mountain Jim. “They’re going to succeed,too. Watch ’em.”
The leader of the goats gave a leap that must have been fully twentyfeet to a ridge which was hardly perceptible even through the glasses.He stood poised there for a second and then made a breath-catchingplunge off into space. The place on the ledge that he had just vacatedwas immediately occupied by one of his followers, while he himselffound footing on nothing, so far as the boys could see. It was athrilling performance to watch the goats as they made their way downthat rock-face to the feeding grounds. Sometimes the leader would takea leap that would make the performance of a flying squirrel seem tameby comparison. And his followers, among them some ewes, were by nomeans behind him in feats of agility.
“I’ve seen ’em come down a gully that looked like a chimney with oneside out,” said Mountain Jim as he watched. “Old hunters say that whenthey miss their footing they save their heads from being caved in bylanding on their horns, but I don’t take any stock in that.”
“Don’t they ever miss their footing?” cried Ralph wonderingly.
“Well, I’ve traveled aroun’ these parts fer a good many years,” repliedJim judicially, “and I ain’t never found hair nor hide of a carcasskilled that way, and no more I reckon did anybody else.”
Jim went on to describe to the boys how wise and cunning the mountaingoats are, gifted with an intelligence far beyond that possessed bymost wild creatures. He also related to them an anecdote concerning anewe whom he had seen defend her kid from the attack of an eagle. Theeagle had swooped down on the kid and knocked it head over heels. Itwas about to fix its talons into the fleecy coat and fly off to itseerie with the little creature, when the old mother became aware ofwhat was going on. Like a thunderbolt she charged down on the eagle,which tried in vain to get away. But its own greediness proved itsundoing, for its talons were tangled in the young goat’s coat and itcould not rise, and the mother speedily tramped and butted it to death.While she was doing this some old rams looked on as if it were noconcern of theirs. They seemed to know that the mother was quite ableto fight her own battles.
“Think there’s any chance of our getting a shot at them?” asked youngWare, vibrant with excitement.
“Don’t see why not,” responded Mountain Jim. “It’s not a hard climbup there, and I reckon they’ll stay there till to-morrow anyhow, asthere’s pasturage and grass on the plateau and they’re working down toit.”
The professor demurred at first at allowing the boys to go hunting thegoats, but after Jim had promised to bring them back safe and soundhe gave his consent. Early the next day, therefore, the party setout, leaving only Jimmie and the professor in camp. Jimmie had by thistime become quite a valuable assistant to the scientist, and the quietoccupation of collecting specimens appeared to suit him far better thanthe more strenuous sports the rugged boys enjoyed.
For a couple of hours, after skirting the little lake, they climbedsteadily. Up they went among, apparently, endless banks of climbingpines, and traversed strips of loose gravel here and there that sentclattering pebbles down the slope under their feet.
Then they left the last of the dwindling pine belt behind them andpushed along on a slope strewn with broken rock and debris that madewalking arduous.
“Great sport this, hunting mountain goats, ain’t it, boys?” said Jimwith a grin as the boys begged him to rest a while, for Jim appeared tobe made of chilled steel and gristle when it came to climbing.
“I’m all right,” declared Harry Ware stoutly, although his pantingsides and streaming face belied his words, “but how about lunch?”
“Yes, cantering crackers! I’m hungry as one of those lions that triedto gobble up Ralph,” declared Persimmons, who always had, as may havebeen noticed, an excellent appetite.
“Don’t be thinking of lunch yet,” admonished Jim. “You’re a fine bunchof hunters. The first thing we want to do is to get a crack at thosegoats, ain’t it? If we don’t keep on, they will.”
That settled the question of lunch, and after a brief rest they keptpushing on up the mountain side. A chill wind was now blowing fromthe vast snowfields, and the cool of it fanned their flushed cheeksrefreshingly.
They reached a stretch of rocky ground made smooth and slippery bymelting snow from the ridges above. The scrap broke off on the verge ofan almost precipitous rift, in the depths of which a torrent roared.They stopped for a minute upon the dizzy ledge of rock and gazed downabove battalions of somber trees upon the lake below. They could seethe camp and the ponies, dwarfed to specks, moving about far beneath.Harry Ware and Percy Simmons shouted and waved their hats, but Jiminstantly checked this.
“Are you hunting goats or out on a picnic,” he admonished the abashedboys.
“Huh! Not much of a picnic about this,” grunted Hardware in an audibleaside.
“Cheer up, it will get worse before it gets better,” said Ralph with alaugh.
A short distance further on they came upon some green grass growing ina marshy spot, kept damp by the constant running of silvery threads ofmelted snow.
“Now look to your rifles,” warned Jim. “We’ll be using the shootingirons before long, or I miss my guess.”
They crept cautiously forward, taking advantage of every bit of coverthey could find. They were above timber line now, and only a fewscattered bits of brush or big rocks afforded them the hiding placesthey desired.
It was after they had been crouching behind a big rock for some minutesthat Mountain Jim,
who had just peered over the top, brought them totheir feet with a whisper that electrified them.
“They’re coming,” he said, in a voice that was tense with a hunter’sexcitement, “don’t move or make a sound, and they’ll come right on topof us.”
The wind was blowing from the goats toward the hunters, and themagnificent animals appeared to have no idea of what lay in store forthem beyond the rocks where the boys crouched. There were twenty ormore of the goats, including several bucks, great snow-white creaturesof regal mien with splendid horns and coats. The boys were conscious ofan almost painful excitement as they waited.
Four rifles cracked and two of the goats sprang into theair and crashed down again dead.--_Page 285._]
But Jim, like a good general, knew when to hold his fire. Peeringthrough a crevice in the rocks he watched the advance of the statelycreatures. They appeared in no hurry, and under the mighty snow-coveredshoulder of the mountain they moved along serenely, cropping the grassand from time to time skipping about playfully.
“Now!” shouted Mountain Jim suddenly.
Like one lad the three boys leaped to their feet. Four rifles crackedand two of the goats sprang into the air and crashed down again dead.Both Harry Ware and Persimmons had missed their marks. The goatswheeled in wild confusion. They snorted and snorted and mah-h-hed ina terrified manner. With a whoop Percy Simmons dashed toward them,yelling at the top of his voice.
“Come back!” roared Jim frantically, but the boy was far too excitedto heed him. He rushed after the fleeing goats at top speed, shoutinglike an Indian.
Suddenly one of the old bucks wheeled. The creature was as big as asmall calf, and almost as powerful as an ox. It saw Percy and loweredits head.
“Gibbering gondolas! He’s coming for me!” exclaimed the boy, and soindeed the infuriated old buck was.
“Fire at him!” roared the others, seeing the boy’s predicament, butPersimmons could only stare stupidly at the great buck, as with loweredhorns, it dashed toward him.
“Run! Shoot! Do something!” came from Jim in a volley of shouts.
“Look out!” roared Hardware, as if such a warning was necessary at all.
“Get out of his way!” cried Ralph.
The Border Boys in the Canadian Rockies Page 29