did not think they had scented us.
R.C. took a peep, and turning excitedly he whispered:

"See only one. And he's standing!"

And I answered: "Let's get down around to the left where we can get a
better chance." It was only a few feet down. We got there.

When he peeped over at this point he exclaimed: "They're gone!"

It was a keen disappointment. "They winded us," I decided.

We looked and looked. But we could not see to our left because of the
bulge of rock. We climbed back. Then I saw one of the stags loping
leisurely off to the left. Teague was calling. He said they had walked
off the promontory, looking up, and stopping occasionally.

Then we realized we must climb back along that broken ridge and then
up to the summit of the mountain. So we started.

That climb back was proof of the effect of excitement on judgment. We
had not calculated at all on the distance or ruggedness, and we had a
job before us. We got along well under the western wall, and fairly
well straight across through the long slope of timber, where we saw
sheep tracks, and expected any moment to sight an old ram. But we did
not find one, and when we got out of the timber upon the bare sliding
slope we had to halt a hundred times. We could zigzag only a few
steps. The altitude was twelve thousand feet, and oxygen seemed
scarce. I nearly dropped. All the climbing appeared to come hardest on
the middle of my right foot, and it could scarcely have burned hotter
if it had been in fire. Despite the strenuous toil there were not many
moments that I was not aware of the vastness of the gulf below, or the
peaceful lakes, brown as amber, or the golden parks. And nearer at
hand I found magenta-colored Indian paint brush, very exquisite and
rare.

Coming out on a ledge I spied a little, dark animal with a long tail.
He was running along the opposite promontory about three hundred yards
distant. When he stopped I took a shot at him and missed by apparently
a scant half foot.

After catching our breath we climbed more and more, and still more, at
last to drop on the rim, hot, wet and utterly spent.

The air was keen, cold, and invigorating. We were soon rested, and
finding our horses we proceeded along the rim westward. Upon rounding
an out-cropping of rock we flushed a flock of ptarmigan--soft gray,
rock-colored birds about the size of pheasants, and when they flew
they showed beautiful white bands on their wings. These are the rare
birds that hav