122 CHAMOIS HUNTING. 



While my companion was gone to the spring, I stood 

 at the door of the hut and looked out upon the scene 

 before me. It was getting dark, and the outlines of 

 the mountains opposite were already indistinct. A cold 

 gust came up from the valley, and in a moment after 

 huge ghost -like forms swept by, followed by others in 

 long succession ; grey trailing clouds passed solemnly on 

 over the meadow, and in a few seconds the whole space 

 between the mountains was filled with thick mist. It 

 is astonishing how quickly the landscape is sometimes 

 enveloped and shut out from view. The meadow was 

 hidden from sight, as well as all else except the nearer 

 hut, which loomed through the vapoury gloom. 



We were both glad to be so comfortably housed, and 

 bolting the door set about making a fire. It was plea- 

 sant and cheering within, as soon as the blaze lighted 

 up the walls and roof, and the dry wood crackled and 

 flung round its sparks upon the hearth. Stowed away 

 in a secret place known only to himself, Solacher had a 

 frying-pan of his own in this hut ; for it seemed he often 

 made it his temporary home, as well when the dairy- 

 maids were gone into the vale as during their summer 

 sojourn here. The frying-pan was fetched, and he at 

 once set about the supper, each of us however having 

 first taken a long draught at the freshly-filled water-pail. 



The rucksacks were opened, and their contents brought 

 forth. In Solacher's was the usual small bag of flour 

 and the wooden box w T ith butter, which the chamois - 

 hunter always carries with him ; and out of the midst 

 of the flour two eggs came to light, which he had put 

 in that safe place for me, in order that the schmarren 

 might be light and delicate. Being an epicure in his 

 way, he had also taken care to have a few apples with 

 him, to make his own mess the more savoury. I had some 



