XII 



THERE is an old proverb to the effect that 

 " a bad beginning makes a good ending." 

 So it was with the weather on Wednesday, 

 November nth, the day on which we had deter- 

 mined to drive the Rach-Kaar, as one of the highest 

 mountains of the Zillergrund is called. 



We rose at half-past five, breakfasted by candle- 

 light, and then only to find that the mountains were 

 covered with thick mist. 



Mist is the most dreaded foe of the chamois- 

 hunter. You may have the best place in the best 

 drive ; and the chamois may do their duty and all 

 come obligingly forward ; and there you can sit, 

 listening to the stones falling from beneath their 

 feet as they pass, perhaps, within a few yards of 

 you and not see so much as a shadowy phantom 

 of one, through the dense curtain of vapour that 

 enfolds you in its damp and chilly embrace ! 



However, we set off, following the course of the 

 river, which comes roaring and clattering down a 



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