290 CHAMOIS HUNTING. 



following as fast as we could go ; it was a headlong- 

 race over loose stones of every size, slipping, stum- 

 bling, falling, and then sliding forwards several yards 

 with the loose rubble, my feet in front and my body 

 inclined backwards, leaning on my pole behind. Now 

 all was silent ; Bursch had ceased his baying, so we 

 knew the chamois was dead. On the grass and rocks 

 were frequent stains of blood : but as we could not 

 see where the hound was, we whistled for him, and at 

 the same moment descried him beside the buck, which 

 had fallen close to the trunk of a half-decayed tree. 



Then came the examination of our booty, and of the 

 different shots. One of the horns was gone, broken 

 short off close to the skull in rolling among the rocks 

 after the last shot. I was sorry, for they were high 

 and thick, and had in perfection that short curve pe- 

 culiar to the buck, which gives him so sturdy an air. 



" Look, Neuner, here 's the first shot ; it has grazed 

 his back-bone badly a little too high, though. No 

 wonder he stood so bent together after being hit ! " 



"And this must be the second," said Neuner, ex- 

 amining another just behind the shoulder. " It was 

 that prevented his being able to hold himself up in 

 coming down the rocks." 



" Well, I am very satisfied with both : that left barrel 

 of mine shoots capitally. Now then, let us puU him 

 out : how heavy he is !" 



And dragging him to a spot where it was less steep, 

 I gralloched him, and found him in capital condition 

 and as fat as possible. 



