62 BIG GAME SHOOTING 



the second dead beast, although so close to him, gives some 

 idea of the way in which a tlir's rusty hide matches his sur- 

 roundings. 



But the game was not bagged yet, although Littledale had 

 settled down to skin one beast, and the hunter was preparing 

 to skin the other. 



In turning his ram over, on the steep incline upon which 

 it lay, the hunter lost control of it, and, in spite of his efforts, 

 the dead beast broke away from him, rolling over and over at 

 first, and then going in great bounds down the mountain until 

 it lay on a snow-bank several thousand feet below, upon which 

 it appeared, even through the field-glass, a mere speck. This 

 misfortune complicated matters, and in order to save both 

 heads, Littledale was obliged to let both hunters go down to 

 the fallen tiir and pass the night alongside of it, whilst he was 

 left to find his way back to camp alone. This generally sounds 

 much easier than it is, and so Littledale found it upon this 

 occasion. As evening approaches, the mists begin to sail about 

 among the crags, first like great ostrich plumes, and then grow- 

 ing larger and more dense, until they make the smooth places 

 difficult and the difficult places impossible. I have myself 

 a very vivid memory to this day of a certain rock to which I 

 had to cling for half an hour until one of these mist-wreaths 

 floated away, leaving me almost too stiff and tired to climb 

 down, and far too tired to climb up any higher, though a wounded 

 ibex was above me. As for Littledale, upon this occasion he 

 put his best foot forward and made all the speed he could to 

 get off the ridge, and on to better going. For hours he had 

 to grope his way along a precipitous ridge, in dense fog, throw- 

 ing small stones down either side from time to time to tell by 

 the sound whether he was still upon the main ridge or not. 

 Only now and again did a gleam of sunshine break through the 

 mist, and in a few hours the sun would set. 



It was a horrible position for a lonely man, uncertain where 

 his camp lay and tired with three days' hard work ; but Little- 

 dale's cup was not yet full. 



