46 CHAMOIS HUNTING. 



The windows were filled with ivy and creeping plants, 

 and these trailed along from antler to antler and hung 

 down in careless festoons, or they were twined round 

 the frames hanging on the walls with engraved por- 

 traits in them, among which I recognized some well- 

 known faces. At the further end of the room was a 

 row of rifles and fowling-pieces, with here a strangely- 

 fashioned powder-flask or cramping-irons for the feet 

 in winter; on a nail hung the rucksack, the green 

 hat above it with a gay flower on its brim ; while a 

 guitar in a corner, and a cithern on a table, gave 

 evidence of gentler pastime than the chase affords. 

 But the neatness and the creeping evergreens had 

 already told of feminine care that presided here. All 

 was as simple as possible, but the place looked com- 

 fortable, and everything was deliciously clean. Having 

 changed my wet clothes, I returned and talked with 

 the forester. " It is no pleasure now," he said, " to 

 have to do with the chase. I do not like even to 

 think about it. The mountains opposite those you 

 see from the windows were full of chamois, the Mie- 

 sing especially. From this room you might often with 

 a telescope see thirty or forty together ; and now on 

 the whole mountain there are perhaps not twenty." 



" And there were stags, too ?" I asked. 



" Stags and roes in abundance. But now all are 

 shot. The peasants shoot everything. There," said 

 he, pointing to the antlers between the windows, " is 

 the last stag that Berger, my assistant forester, shot. 

 It was a good one, as you see, and I have put up the 



