76 TWO CHAMOIS HUNTS 



them might stand, just as he is, as the hero 

 of one of Ganghofer's stories. 



I ride my trusty mule, whose acquaintance 

 we have already made when ibex hunting 

 in Italy, and whom I have to thank for easing 

 and shortening many a weary mile. Behind 

 comes a native of the Bregenzer forests, Mucksel 

 by name, a butcher by trade; formerly a 

 famous poacher, and the best climber of the 

 whole district. If ever he says, " Can't get 

 over here," one may be dead certain that it 

 is impossible. Many a time he has held the 

 rope when I have had bad places to climb. 

 Last comes the muleteer, who has also seen 

 better days, but whose possessions, by a cruel 

 fate, were burnt to the ground in a single night. 

 Even this has not robbed him of his sense of 

 humour. 



The temperature is hardly adapted for riding. 

 It is a relief when the actual ascent begins. But 

 the joy is short-lived. 



For now we have to tackle the Uenchen. 



When my huntsman came to me the night 

 before with the suggestion that we should 



