LEAVE THE DESERTAS 17 



These columns were of all sizes and shapes, eut 

 out from the soil by the storms of many years. 



In this goblin country, the old goat lay behind 

 a rock well guarded by three nannies. The stalk 

 was successful, and I felt so sure of the animal 

 that, instead of waiting for him to get up, I fired 

 when he was lying down, and the bullet went over 

 his back. In a flash, the old goat, who knew 

 what a bullet meant, was round a corner, and when 

 next seen was running down the cliff 300 yards 

 away. I would far rather have photographed 

 goats than shot them, but the terrific wind, drift- 

 ing mists, and rain rendered this impossible. 

 Though we worked hard all day, we never saw 

 another good head, and went back to our blankets, 

 under a wall of the ruined house, to sleep as best 

 we could, in a gale that was driving the rain 

 through our clothes to our very bones. 



The next day, after losing one good head 

 through a shifting wind which spoilt a good stalk, I 

 managed to bag another, of 14 inches ; but bitterly 

 regretted that my camera had been left behind, 

 for the sun came out as we approached the herd, 

 and gave me the chance of a good photograph. 

 After this I always carried the camera, and had 

 one wonderful chance, when a goat came grazing 

 to within 30 yards of where we were having lunch 

 behind a rock. The movement I made to get the 

 camera betrayed me, and the goat bolted. 



That night I left the Desertas, and left them 

 with deep regret, but our food and water supply 

 were exhausted, and the men of the lugger Avere 

 clamouring to get back to Madeira. 



