As I was descending along a terrace, Jack being some distance behind and above, a fine, large mountain sheep, sleek and clean, with beautiful strong horns, sprang along four or five hundred feet from me, and stopped in full view listening to Jack's footsteps.

I had no gun, and could only admire him till he bounded lightly away.
About one o'clock the climbing party came back.

Steward had shot a mountain sheep with a revolver, only to find that a deep canyon intervened between him and his prize and there was no way of getting it.
About half past two we shoved out into the river again, running a small rapid immediately.

The water was so shallow that our keel struck a number of times but no damage was done.

We had hardly cleared this when we arrived at a drop of about six feet in a few yards with the whole river filled with bad rocks.