166 CHAMOIS HUNTING. 



the chamois hanging by his bent horns to a branch 

 trailing near the ground. We cleaned him, the carrion 

 crows croaking above us, and then turned homewards. 



" I wonder you did not hear the chamois, Xavier," 

 I said, as we went down the hill. " It is a pity you 

 did not, for then we might have had the two-year-old 

 instead ; not that it much matters though." 



" I don't hear as well as I did," he answered. " I 

 was at the great festival at Munich this year, and shot 

 in the shooting match : the thousands of shots that 

 were fired have almost deafened me; and though I 

 now hear better, I have still a buzzing in my ears." 



"Did you get a prize?" 



" I believe I shall, but it is not settled yet. Most 

 likely the second. Out of two hundred shots eight 

 only missed the bull's eye, and of these five were fired 

 at the running stag*." 



" But, Xavier, if you don't get a prize with such 

 practice as that, who could possibly hope for one ?" 



" Oh, there were many who shot better than I did. 

 The first prize my brother Joseph will perhaps get." 



I inquired about the game he had shot, and he told 

 me that last year thirty-six stags had fallen to his rifle. 

 This will give an idea of the abundance of game that 



* This is a figure of a stag made of wood, and put on wheels run- 

 ning in a groove ; on the shoulder is a target, with a red heart painted 

 on it. At 125 yards from the spot where you stand are green bushes. 

 The stag is drawn back out of sight, and at a given signal he runs 

 by, and in crossing the open space between the bushes the target is 

 fired at. As the animal moves along it has quite the effect of a real 

 stag passing through the forest. 



