On the edge of a jutting pinnacle, three or four hundred feet above him, there stood a creature somewhat resembling a sheep in appearance, but armed with a pair of gigantic horns.

The big-horn--for so it is called--was acting, probably, as a guardian over a flock which were invisible to the hunter; but fortunately it was heading in the opposite direction, and had not perceived him.

Lying on his face, he rested his rifle upon a rock, and took a long and steady aim before drawing the trigger.

The animal sprang into the air, tottered for a moment upon the edge of the precipice, and then came crashing down into the valley beneath.
The creature was too unwieldy to lift, so the hunter contented himself with cutting away one haunch and part of the flank.

With this trophy over his shoulder, he hastened to retrace his steps, for the evening was already drawing in.