A SOLITAIRE 121 



A bad place caused me to keep right out towards 

 the valley here, and just as I was about to turn to 

 descend towards the dog, crash ! down went a loose 

 stone, and a big single chamois bounded out of the 

 rocks not fifty yards away. Mr Buxton, in Short 

 Stalks, makes the pertinent reflection that man is 

 the noisiest of animals, and as a rule this is true ; 

 but he can hardly have been thinking of a chamois. 

 I will cheerfully back myself to make a great deal 

 less noise movinor than the most artful old buck 

 living. Except on a snow-field, they invariably seem 

 to select loose stones to tread on ; and I have hardly 

 ever been out without my attention being attracted 

 to some of them in this manner. 



In the very first days of one's chamois -shooting 

 one takes a running shot like this ; misses, of course ; 

 and the game goes on for a week. I had already 

 learnt better. During that first mad rush I had 

 dropped on my knee and cocked my gun, and my 

 finger was on the upper leaf of the back-sight in case 

 it should be prolonged. But it was not ; on a rock 

 about a hundred yards off he stopped and looked 

 back. He must have stopped longer than usual, too, 

 for I remember that, having cocked my favourite left 

 barrel, I pressed the right trigger and took the 

 weapon down to see what was up. Probably my 

 doubled-up aiming position puzzled him ; perhaps it 

 was because he had never seen a man in a kilt before. 

 Very little time, however, was lost before the report 

 rang out and he was down ; down, nevertheless, to 

 be up in a second, long before I had reloaded. But 

 I judged that the first downward leap ended in an- 

 other fall. Directly afterwards he dashed down on 

 to the long snow-slope, but scarcely had he struck 



