filled me with wonder and delight, and secretly I resolved to get acquainted with them. It didn't take me long to discover the broad shelf of rock, half-way down the mountainside, where the herd camped at night. One cold morning I made them a call and stampeded them. Their alarm at my presence didn't discourage me in the least, so the next morning I called again. They soon grew to know me and to realise there wasn't much to fear from a toddling youngster four years old, so in a short time we became great friends.
It was their custom to climb the mountain at sunrise in search of food. The tiny baby goats were left unprotected while their mothers sought the heights for the precious herbage that was so scarce during the early spring. I acted as nurse during their absence.
I would gather the goats in my chubby arms and trudge back to the cabin with them, caring for them for several hours until I heard the bleats of the returning mothers. Then I would hasten back with the babies and give them over to their mothers' care. The number of babies
