"There," said Fannin, "Seammux sees something; I hope it's in a place where we can get to it."
"I hope so," said Jack, "and that it's not too far down the hill. Anything that we kill down there of course has got to be carried up again."
"Well," said Hugh, "the easiest way to find out where it is, is to go down to the Indian; but go carefully; this plant under foot is mighty slippery, and you don't want to fall down and break your gun or knock off the sights."
They scrambled down to the Indian, who, as they approached, made signs for them to be cautious. When they had reached him, he pointed to the top of the bank below him, and they advanced to look over it, supposing that they might see goats, three or four hundred yards away, that would have to be carefully stalked. But instead of that, when they peered cautiously over it, there were four of the white beasts placidly feeding on the hillside, within thirty yards of them. The curious animals stood knee-deep in the heather, and seemed to be carefully picking out certain plants which grew here and there among it. Their horns were sharp, shining black, and directed a little backward; and on each chin was a beard, reminding one of that of a buffalo, and easily explaining the common name "goat" given to them. The animals seemed so unsuspicious that Fannin hardly felt like firing at them; but to Jack, who had never before killed a goat, no such thought occurred. He was anxious to secure his animal. There were four shots, for the young Indian, Sillicum, carried a musket, though Seammux had none; and it was but a moment before the four goats lay stretched on the mountain side.
"Well," said Jack, as they stood over the animals which the Indians were now preparing to skin, "that is about the simplest piece of hunting that I ever did. These goats don't seem to be much more suspicious than so many buffalo."
"No," said Hugh, "they are certainly gentle beasts, and that's just what I've always heard about them from the Indians."
"Well," said Jack, "now that I have killed one goat, I don't feel as if I cared very much to kill any more."
"No," said Mr. Fannin, "there's not much sport in it. You must remember that these goats are scarcely ever disturbed, for no white men ever come here to hunt; and I don't believe the Indians come once in five years. It's very possible that these goats never saw a man and never heard a shot before to-day."