82 TWO CHAMOIS HUNTS 



Since those days we have often spoken of 

 that adventure. "Well, now," I say, "what 

 about that old grey-beard on the Uenchen ? " 

 And the sturdy mountaineer scratches his chin 

 and answers : " The devil ! that was touch and 

 go!" 



II 



It is summer time, and nowhere in the world 

 is summer so glorious, so rich in beauty as in 

 the high Alps. Early in the morning when it 

 begins to get light, out one sallies with gun and 

 knapsack to stalk the buck to his lair. The 

 air is wonderfully clear and rarefied, and 

 scented by a thousand flowers and aromatic 

 herbs. All the mountain peaks are bathed in 

 wonderful golden sunlight. Far below, the 

 valleys are still wrapped in twilight shadow. 

 The mist lies in thick clouds upon the meadows, 

 and the smoke rises in straight slender columns 

 from the chimneys of the huts. 



These summer mornings in the Alps cer- 



