ly, and Nimrod is helpless as a babe. 

 In the mountains it is different. When 

 I finally raised my eyes from the horse's 

 tail in front, it was because the tail and 

 the horse belonging to it had stopped 

 suddenly. 



We were in the middle of a brook. 

 It is highly unpleasant to be stopped in 

 the middle of an icy brook when your 

 horse's feet break through the ice at each 

 step, and you cannot be sure how deep 

 the water is, nor how firm the bottom 

 he is going to strike, especially as ice- 

 covered brooks are Blondey's pet abhor- 

 rence, and the uncertainty of my progress 

 was emphasised by Blondey's attempts to 

 cross on one or two feet instead of four. 



However, I looked dutifully in the 

 direction Nimrod indicated and saw 

 a long line of elk heads peering over 

 the ridge in front and showing darkly 



