X Chamois- Hunting 527 



Too excited to feel any uprising of envy, hatred, 

 or malice against my more fortunate companion, I 

 raced along the white incline, leaving him behind 

 reloading his rifle (which was always a sort of solemn 

 rite with him), and following without difficulty the 

 deep indentations of the animal's hoofs, I came to 

 where the cliffs receded into a sort of small bay, 

 with its patch of snow on the same plane with the 

 one I was on, but separated from it by a rugged 

 promontory of cliff and broken rock. Cautiously I 

 scrambled round the point, removing many a stone 

 that seemed inclined to fall and give the alarm to 

 the watchful chamois, and peeping cautiously round 

 the last mass of rock that separated me from the 

 snow-patch, I saw the poor brute standing not more 

 than sixty yards from me, his hoofs drawn close 

 together under him, ready for a desperate rush at 

 the cliff at the first sound that reached him, his 

 neck stretched out, and his muzzle nearly touching 

 the snow, straining every sense to catch some inkling 

 of the whereabouts of the mischief he felt was 

 near him. 



With my face glowing as if it had been freshly 

 blistered, a dryness and lumping in my throat as if 

 I had just escaped from an unsuccessful display of 

 Mr. Calcraft's professional powers, and my heart 

 beating against my ribs at such a rate that I really 

 thought the geinse must hear it in the stillness, I 

 raised my carbine. Once, at the neck just behind 

 the ear, I saw the brown hide clear at the end of 



