MOUFFLON-STALKING IN CYPEUS 355 



Jerome made a capital spy of the biggest moufflon 

 I had yet seen. He was greatly excited about it, 

 actually throwing an arm round my neck as we sat, 

 and then crossing himself and muttering an audible 

 prayer to the Panayia ^ to grant us the moufflon. 



This ram was a noble fellow, almost black about 

 the withers, and with a saddle -mark as pure white 

 as his muzzle. His horns, or so it seemed to me, 

 would nearly, or quite, have broken the record. This 

 time I would have no chancing it. We retired into 

 the valley, creeping off with great care, and descend- 

 ing to the water - course at the bottom. This we 

 followed up-stream for half a mile, and then, turning 

 left-handed, climbed the ridge behind him. The heat 

 was now so great that I was glad to put my coat 

 in the rucksack during this operation. When we 

 reached the top I smoked a pipe, and then, leaving 

 all our impedimenta (Jerome even discarded his hat 

 and boots) we began the actual stalk. The ground 

 was so steep and so covered with loose stones that 

 I had to do most of it on my back. When we got 

 down to the place where the ram had been, or rather 

 to a point whence we could see it, he was gone. 

 Knowing we could not possibly have put him away, 

 I did not attach much importance to this, and laughed 

 at the peasant when he pointed out some very old 

 tracks as having been made by the moufflon in his 

 flight. I continued to examine every nook and corner. 

 Unfortunately, whilst I was diligently using my glass, 

 Jerome went a few yards farther down, taking my 

 rifle with him. The next moment he was scram- 

 bling up again, crying, " Thrjyopa ! TXrjyopa ! " (Quick ! 

 Quick 1) 



1 The Virgin. 



