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CHAPTER XL 



MY FIRST CHAMOIS.^ 



On one of his hunting days, we are told, Mr 

 Jorrocks had cut himself in shaving, which he con- 

 sidered ''werry symptomatic" of sport. On this 

 principle (^.e., that the drawing of blood from the 

 sportsman is likely to be followed by that of the 

 game), I had every right to expect sport on this 

 occasion. The day before, when tightening a tent- 

 peg, I had brought the heavy mallet down on an 

 unnoticed line, which had diverted the blow to my 

 own physiognomy, almost entirely depriving my nose 

 of its cuticle. Nevertheless, heedless of the risk of 

 possible erysipelas from the combined effects of a 

 broiling sun and the snow on my sore face (and, 

 as a matter of fact, I did suffer very considerably), 

 I started at eight o'clock, assuring my anxious spouse, 

 who hated these solitary expeditions, that I should 

 be back to lunch at one without fail. With this 

 view I took nothing with me to eat or drink — nor 

 even to smoke. 



But the fates were against me, for, first of all, I 

 missed the wood path I ought to have taken ; and, 

 secondly, having placed my rucksack on a fallen tree 

 to sit on whilst waiting for my dachshund, who had 



1 Stalked, I should add. I had shot one in a drive before this. 



