WILD GOATS OF THE DESERTAS 15 



done so, with a goat on his back, was a marvel. 

 I would never have asked Pareisha to go down the 

 cliff, and would have stopped him had I known 

 his intention, but from what one saw of him later 

 in the day it was easy to realize that the old man 

 was as sure-footed on these rocky precipices as 

 the goats he hunted. The dead goat was about 

 30 inches high at the shoulder, and of a brown 

 colour, with dark forequartcrs and beard, a black 

 saddle, and a dark line running down the back. 

 The horns, 13 inches long, had the spiral twist of 

 the domestic and not the wild goat. 



I had no wish to go on killing, the least part 

 of hunting, now that the specimen I wanted was 

 lying there ; but the Lords of the Descrtas had 

 asked me to kill off some of the older rams in the 

 interests of breeding, so I resolved that the 

 hunting of each of them should be worthy of the 

 wonderful barren mountain in the sea. While 

 Pareisha watched for goats, I fear my eyes saw 

 only the blue sea and breaking white foam on the 

 shore, and purpling heather on the hill, where 

 sunshine and shadows were chasing each other 

 as the fierce wind swept the clouds across the sun. 



Curiously enough, however, it was I who 

 saw the old goat, just a glint of horn behind the 

 rock where he was lying. A delightfully difficult 

 stalk brought me within a hundred yards before 

 the goat saw me, jumped and ran, but fell to the 

 shot. A much bigger male now showed himself 

 a cripple one leg was stiff and his pace slow. 

 Lie was spared, perhaps less for his sake than that 

 of the harem, which surrounded him so affectionately 



