Page:Edison Marshall--Shepherds of the wild.djvu/240

232 one or two of the other young rams were lying down. Broken Fang's glaring eyes encompassed the whole scene, and with the swiftness and accuracy of a general, he mapped out his plan of attack. No naturalist explains by what swift avenues of intelligence he made his plans. Animals cannot reason. Instinct alone is severely taxed to account for all the wiles and astuteness of the wild creatures. But if this were instinct, it served him even better than intelligence.

It was true that his prey was out of leaping range of his trail. Yet for all that his heart throbbed with rapture. A jagged cliff approached within a few feet of them from the opposite side, and one détour would bring him close enough to strike. Best of all, he could leap at them from above.

The wind was right, the animals were not suspecting danger. He crept slowly about to the shelter of the opposite pass, then began to creep stealthily toward the sheep.

He didn't see how he could miss, particularly the yearling ram that lay nearest the cliff. He was a newcomer in the band, and he wouldn't be so wary as the others. It was a simple matter of stealing quietly over a ledge of rock, where there were no dry twigs to break beneath his feet, then to spring down with outstretched talons and open jaws. Already he was within a hundred feet. Their pungent smell was a madness in his