ly, and Nimrod is helpless as a babe. 
In the mountains it is different. When 
I finally raised my eyes from the horse’s 
tail in front, it was because the tail and 
the horse belonging to it had stopped 
suddenly. 
We were in the middle of a brook. 
It is highly unpleasant to be stopped in 
the middle of an icy brook when your 
horse’s feet break through the ice at each 
step, and you cannot be sure how deep 
the water is, nor how firm the bottom 
he is going to strike, especially as ice- 
covered brooks are Blondey’s pet abhor- 
rence, and the uncertainty of my progress 
was emphasised by Blondey’s attempts to 
cross on one or two feet instead of four. 
However, I looked dutifully in the 
direction Nimrod indicated and saw 
a long line of elk heads peering over 
the ridge in front and showing darkly 
scormom ee EER 
