1 76 SIR VICTOR BROOKE CHAP. 



died away. I had clambered up into the precipice on 

 to a little ledge about 20 feet from the ground, and 

 was sitting there in a brown study when I heard the 

 clattering of stones to my right, looked round, and saw 

 a young male bouquetin coming to me as hard as he 

 could fly, with his side glued to the rock. I dared not 

 move ; he was so close. On he came, and I hoped he 

 would pass right under me when I could have shot him ; 

 but the rascal, when he got within 10 yards of me, 

 pulled up, and only showing his head round a corner 

 he gazed straight at me, sitting down with my elbows 

 on my knees, checkmated on my narrow perch. I saw 

 his gray face and yellow eyes staring at me, and could 

 almost count the hairs on his forehead. Like lightning 

 he turned, and, still glued to the rock which slightly 

 overhung, he dashed back the way he had come without 

 giving me a chance of getting the gun off at him. A 

 short time afterwards I saw one of the men on the 

 upper cornice opposite me beckoning to me to go 

 to him, and could hear something about a bouquetin. 

 I was obliged to go down a long way to avoid the 

 avalanches, but at last got to the opposite side. There 

 I found that Celestin had seen a male bouquetin climb 

 up on to a craggy rock at the foot of the precipices 

 above the Sanctuary, and as far as he could make out 

 he had not come out. The icicles were something 

 dreadful, falling in dozens, and crashing with a clap 

 like thunder against the projections of the precipice, 

 they sent their fragments whizzing like grapeshot into 

 the snow at every side of us. Sheltering ourselves 

 under a pine, Celestin and I examined the ground, and 

 not seeing how the bouquetin could have got out, we 

 determined to wait till the sun set and the icicles had 

 stopped falling, when Celestin would climb up and put 

 him out. This we did, but when Celestin, after an 



