128 CHAMOIS HUNTING. 



out, f You rascal of a forester, lay down your rifle, or 

 I '11 send a ball through your body/ " 



"And did he?" 



" Of course he did not," replied Max ; " Ignace is a 

 young fellow, only seventeen years old, but he sprang 

 behind a tree and levelled his rifle. The man ran off, 

 and Ignace vows that, if he had not, he would have shot 

 him on the spot." 



And now we talked of old times, when game was plen- 

 tiful on the mountains, of the chamois that had been 

 shot, and by whom and where, and of those matters 

 which to some appear trifling, but which to the hunter 

 are full of interest. We chatted on so long and earnestly 

 that we let the fire get low, and our faces looked almost 

 spectral as the glowing embers threw a faint light upon 

 them. But we flung on more wood, and soon fanned the 

 heap into a cheerful blaze. 



"Let us boil another pipkin-full of water, Maxl," 

 said I; "a little more of what you find so capital, and 

 then to bed." 



He had still many a question to ask, for I had told 

 him about the herds of game in America, and it had set 

 his imagination on fire. How much he would like to go 

 there ! but then the water ! Water he did not like, and 

 he asked how long, in crossing, he would have to be 

 upon it. 



" But what makes you dislike it ?" I inquired. 



" Once, you know, I was stationed at the Konigs See, 

 and in going over the lake in winter when it was frozen 

 I slipped through a hole. I came up under the ice ; but 

 by a wonderful chance, after going down a second time I 

 rose at the hole again, and my comrade pulled me out. 

 Since then I have quite a horror of the water. I should 

 never have left the Konigs See but for that : however as 



