ON PLAIN AND PEAK 



I reload the right barrel, and fling myself flat on 

 the rock. Visions of long-range shooting at the 

 rifle butts, and the welcome white disc that marked 

 the "bull," flit before me. 



He has stopped again ! Now is my opportunity ; 

 my last chance too, for in another yard or two he 

 will be over a ridge and out of sight. It is well 

 over two hundred yards, and he is end on, and 

 turned away. I set the hair-trigger, draw a long 

 breath, take the most careful aim I can, and fire. 



I see him roll over, but as he goes struggling 

 over the edge he seems to be on his legs again. 



Wechselberger runs over the rocks to higher 

 ground. " He's down ! " he shouts. 



Those words are sweeter at that moment than the 

 sweetest music ! 



The beaters are now within a couple of hundred 

 yards of us, so we go to look after the other two 

 chamois. We find them both stone dead, within 

 a few yards of the places where they were shot ! 



It was a long way back to the hut, and almost 

 all steep downhill work, which is even more tiring 

 than going up, and infinitely more dangerous. But 

 to me it seemed as nothing, for were there not 

 three beaters before me each with a chamois of 

 mine on his back ? 



Six chamois formed the strecke that evening, the 

 strecke being the day's bag all placed neatly on the 



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