BAD LUCK 



There was no hurry either that morning. The 

 beaters, indeed, had an early start and a long round 

 to make ; but our posts were quite close to the 

 hut the farthest, not more than three-quarters 

 of an hour's walk from it. We had plenty of time, 

 therefore, to read our letters and papers, that were 

 brought each day as regularly as if we were in the 

 height of civilization. The newspapers were pretty 

 old, certainly my Standard dated six days back 

 but what matter ? They were fresh to us. 



A woman used to act as our postman. Each 

 morning at four o'clock she left Mayrhofen, with her 

 letter- bag and a little lantern ; and each morning at 

 eight (almost to the second) she reached the hut. 

 An hour's rest, and then she set out on her return 

 journey, with one or two defunct chamois on her 

 strong shoulders. A wonderful sturdy race men 

 and women alike are these mountain people ! 



It was eleven o'clock before there was any oc- 

 casion for me to start for my post, and even then 

 we had some time to wait for the signal shot. 

 Wechselberger filled up the interval by telling me 

 in whispers of the famous bucks that he had seen 

 shot from our stand. It was a very curious one a 

 piece of rock had partially detached itself from the 

 parent cliff, and, by so doing, formed a sort of 

 natural pulpit, in which we sat. 



The signal shot reduced us to silence and im- 



205 L 



