A SPORTSMAN'S EDEN. 



yellow grass slopes ; but Toma told me that 

 when the snows of November have driven deer 

 and sheep from the heights, these lower ranges 

 are alive with game. Towards noon rain began 

 to fall, mixed at times with little ' flurries ' of 

 snow driven by a bitter north-easter, so that 

 when Toma suddenly dropped out of his saddle, 

 and slithered downhill on his hams, although I 

 followed him with all promptitude, I felt far too 

 frozen to find my trigger, and was not in the 

 least surprised at a couple of misses right and 

 left at sheep at about 300 yards. Toma wiped 

 the snow off the seat of his trousers with a sigh, 

 but said nothing, and I confess to a feeling of 

 depression as I watched all those juicy mutton 

 chops careering away downhill. Everyone 



seemed a little sad about it ; even old S. d d 



his son, and his son took it out in d ing the 



unhappy horses. Whilst so amused they unfor- 

 tunately ran into a little band of mule-deer, and 

 sent our haunch of venison ' in posse ' galloping 

 after our chops. We camped that night by a 

 tiny grove of hemlocks at the head of a little bay 

 amongst the hills, in which some execrable bird, 

 described by the Indian as between a hawk and 

 an owl, was screeching aloud for rain. The snow 

 lay here and there in little drifts, and two or 

 three great blue grouse, frightened by us or dis- 



