THE KILLING OF THE GREY BEAR 173 



Far more ordinary things appealed. A sponge floating 

 in a rubber basin, the methylated spirit lamp as it 

 emitted a blue flame, the butterfly net and killing 

 bottle, and a tin of taxidermine excited their utmost 

 admiration and cupidity. And perhaps of all their 

 possessions I most desired their limitless sang-froid, and 

 the free, royal, swinging grace of their gait. It was 

 their finest asset. They walked as though the whole 

 world lay beneath their feet and it was whoHy theirs. 



Throughout the mountain land the natives took pay- 

 ment in paper money after the coin supply gave out, 

 but not before the filthy notes had been submitted to 

 the close scrutiny of the financiers of the village and 

 pronounced genuine. The dirtier the notes the more 

 negotiable. One recently issued and comparatively 

 cleanly five-rouble bill raised their suspicions to refusal 

 point. 



From this land of plenty we perversely trekked away, 

 crossing deep corries filled with snow shoots, hard as 

 iron, sighting many tur on the high cliffs, all in un- 

 stalkable situations. 



Going round one ugly corner we nearly lost one of 

 our borrowed servants, a gaunt Lesghian, deputed to 

 cook for us. He was trying to persuade a pony to 

 embark on a snow-slope when the little bit of the 

 earth's surface upon which they stood gave way 

 beneath them, and horse and man fell on to the slippery 

 shute, down which they rolled for some feet till a 

 lateral slant of the icy way carried them to a little 

 plateau, blue with gentians, roofing a hideous drop 

 yawning to unknown depths below. 



