THE STORY OF A RAM 73 



more closely, that he was the companion of the 

 one I had killed on the preceding evening. His 

 horns as he fell measured fifteen inches exactly at 

 the base, but they were short for he was only a 

 young beast, and sadly and sorrowfully I watched 

 the final rites being performed. 



But it was fated that I should see my giant again. 

 When he finished, Henry cast a look round and 

 proposed, as a Scotch stalker would have put it, 

 a "bit turn " round the sky-line. 



" I think I saw some tracks ! " said he, and not 

 much caring, I acquiesced. 



For half-an-hour or so, tired and disappointed, 

 I plodded after him. A couple of ptarmigan, too well 

 hidden for us to see, kept up stifled squeaking among 

 the rocks, until wearied at our stupidity they flashed 

 up like a pair of great, white, living snowflakes and 

 whisked round a corner. The trail of the frightened 

 ewes, whom we had robbed of their leader, kept 

 on, and presently other tracks appeared which led 

 us over yet another crest. There the same kind 

 of scenery was revealed. Firs and pines, rocks and 

 snow, here bare, there covered ; and, winding over 

 a distant knoll, strung our band of ewes, but no 

 ram was to be seen. 



Ahead of me, Henry ploughed stubbornly through 

 the snow, for he, too, was tired and disappointed. 

 Then as my glance wandered back from the ewes, 

 I saw him suddenly crouch in the snow and whip 

 out his glasses. Turning his head, he beckoned 



