236 Mountain Sheep. 



We started in the cold gray of the next morning and 

 pricked rapidly off over the frozen plain, columns of white 

 steam rising from the nostrils of the galloping horses. 

 When we reached the foot of the hills where we intended 

 to hunt, and had tethered the horses, the sun had already 

 risen, but it was evident that the clear weather of a fort- 

 night past was over. The air was thick and hazy, and 

 away off in the northwest a towering mass of grayish 

 white clouds looked like a weather-breeder ; every thing 

 boded a storm at no distant date. The country over 

 which we now hunted was wilder and more mountainous 

 than any we had yet struck. High, sharp peaks and 

 ridges broke off abruptly into narrow gorges and deep 

 ravines ; they were bare of all but the scantiest vegeta- 

 tion, save on some of the sheltered sides where grew 

 groves of dark pines, now laden down with feathery 

 snow. The climbing was as hard as ever. At first we 

 went straight up the side of the tallest peak, and then 

 along the knife-like ridge which joined it with the next. 

 The ice made the footing very slippery as we stepped 

 along the ledges or crawled round the jutting shoulders, 

 and we had to look carefully for our footholds ; while in 

 the cold, thin air every quick burst we made up a steep 

 hill caused us to pant for breath. We had gone but a 

 little way before we saw fresh signs of the animals we 

 were after, but it was some time before we came upon the 

 quarry itself. 



We left the high ground and descending into a narrow 

 chasm walked along its bottom, which was but a couple of 

 feet wide, while the sides rose up from it at an acute 



