The Journal of a Sporting Nomad 



have managed this, the meat being frozen as 

 soHd as stone. Unfortunately, however, when 

 I put it on board the steamer on my way to 

 England, the butcher kept it on the ice, having 

 no freezing chamber, with the result that the 

 meat thawed out, and to avoid entire waste I 

 had to have it cooked. It was served in the 

 saloon one night for dinner, and was a novelty 

 to many of the passengers, all of whom enjoyed 

 their first taste of genuine wild mutton. 



I was not particularly keen now to remain out 

 in the mountains much longer, for the cold was 

 intense at night. The sheep seemed to have 

 forsaken their haunts entirely, and we only 

 obtained a few black-tail deer. Accordingly 

 we returned once more to civilization, and I 

 made my way home to England. 



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