MY FIEST CHAMOIS 99 



gone off on the line of a roe-deer, I left it there on 

 rising, and had about half an hour's walk back for 

 it. It was then I discovered that I had not brought 

 my watch. Finally, I gained the object of my 

 journey — a rocky saddle between two great cliffs. 

 In the snow-covered glen beyond there were often 

 chamois. On this occasion it was vacant, but the 

 field-glasses soon picked up three chamois right up 

 at the bottom of the cliffs. One lay down on a 

 ledge of the rock, and the other two went on, and 

 took their quarters up in a curious place, behind 

 the snow which formed a mass detached from the 

 base of the cliff. They kept on coming out for a 

 look, so I guessed they had my wind. In any case, 

 I could not advance far without being seen. Things 

 looked pretty blue, but still I must have a try. 

 An approach from below is almost invariably a 

 failure, but the unexpected is a big element in sport. 

 Indeed, in this part the correct approach from above 

 is all but impossible, for the chamois generally manage 

 to have the cliffs at their back. 



Twenty minutes brought me to a snow - filled 

 hollow, where, at any rate, I was out of sight, but had 

 I been detected getting down there ? To approach 

 to leeward I must go to my right. I had actually 

 started to do so, when, happening to turn my head, 

 I saw a herd of ten in full scamper behind me, on 

 the lower slopes of the great rock on my left hand, 

 which is like a sitting human figure, and consequently 

 sheer precipice to the front, from the knees down. 

 But the herd kept up the left side till they reached 

 the grass ledge which represents the arms, and 

 disappeared along it, looking exactly like mice in 

 a wheat - stack, which will give the reader some 



