AT GIBRALTAR EN ROUTE 7 



who reads the thing condemns each and every rifle 

 with all his heart and soul. The rifles of a hunter 

 are like his own children, nobody else has anything 

 approaching them. They stand on a plane apart. 



The difficulty of importing firearms into the Cau- 

 casus fines down one's battery to necessitous require- 

 ments. It is not " What can I take ? " but " What 

 can I do without? " And, in addition to multifarious 

 import worries, there's the vexed question of porterage 

 to limit the supply of rifles with which some prodigal 

 sportsmen approach a country of camel transport. 

 Camels stop off at negotiating the great range, and 

 the mobs of desert ships travelling on the great trade 

 routes 'twixt Persia and the Caucasus make Tiflis 

 their northernmost point. It is their barrier, and 

 the shikari, bound, as a general rule, for the moun- 

 tains, has to depend on pack ponies, mules, and 

 porters. 



To the uninitiated camels are the concomitant of 

 all sportsmen, given the one you have the other, and 

 with these non-understanding people who don't shoot, 

 and don't read shooting books (well, they are dull, 

 fact-y things, aren't they ?) the idea of trying to 

 manoeuvre a big trip to a successful conclusion minus 

 a camel in the offing would be like taking on the job 

 with a pop-gun. 



I once asked an old aunt of mine, who was pro- 

 pounding the camel theory, something of it. 



" But why," I queried, '* why is it so absolutely 

 necessary for me to get a camel ? " 



" To carry your things, of course," she answered 



