AFTER GOAT ON THE MAINLAND 145 



ever and blotted out any view of the hill. To 

 attempt a stalk on such dangerous ground 

 would have been madness, so we turned back 

 and went down to where we had left the dead 

 goat. The cold was now so intense we could 

 not remain to skin the goat, so made straight 

 for camp. The going on the way down was as 

 bad as it could be. The newly-fallen snow 

 lying on the heather had made it very slippery 

 and almost dangerous. I had many a slip 

 but generally landed sitting down, and arrived 

 at the foot of the hill bruised but thankful, 

 for after all I had got my goat. This was real 

 sport : to find your game, mark him down and 

 then an honest stalk, ending in a kill; but it 

 was stiff work and a little too much for a 

 man of my age. 



We had come down about 2,000 feet, 

 and the snow had turned into rain, which 

 felt quite warm and comforting after the 

 blizzard on the hill-top. Kirby was so cold, he 

 asked leave to go ahead, and I soon saw him 

 running down the valley and skipping like a 

 goat from rock to rock. Taking it easier, I 

 got to camp about 5 o'clock, fairly tired out. 



September 22nd. It rained and snowed all 

 night, and for the first time the little tent was 

 not waterproof. The weather cleared about 



