282 CHAMOIS HUNTING. 



The north side of the mountain, as is always the case, 

 wore a totally different aspect. The line of the ridge 

 was the boundary of two distinct regions. From the 

 summit we now looked down upon sharp points ; all was 

 broken and wilder in character than on the side where 

 we had mounted. We went downwards, and wound 

 along the slanting face of the rock; here and there 

 stepping along a mere ledge, formed by a projecting 

 layer of stone, our bodies slanting outwards toward the 

 rocks and away from the precipice.* And now we 

 mounted again, and reached the top of Henneneck. 

 The vapours had before partially cleared away, but they 

 now swept by beneath our feet, and we looked down on 

 cloud, on dimness, and uncertainty. Close to us, a yard 

 or so downwards, the traces of chamois were discernible 

 in the snow ; but they were old — some days old perhaps. 

 Beyond lay a world of shadows, where no eye could 

 penetrate. Suddenly the forester exclaimed, " There *s 

 a chamois !" I saw nothing; but a moment after from 

 out the mist and cloud came the sound of a roiling 

 stone, and as we listened we heard it bounding on till 

 at last it was no longer audible. 



We found but one new track of game in the snow, 

 the others were all old. The place seemed forsaken. We 

 still went on, and, creeping up a shoulder of the moun- 

 tain, looked over into a hollow spread with verdure — for 

 the mists had sailed away just then — in the sure hope 

 of seeing some animal life; but our eyes swept over 

 every inch of ground in vain. 



It was now six o'clock, and I was glad to breakfast. 

 A slice of brown bread and one of Christina's apples 



* The clouds were just below our feet, so that it was impossible to 

 see beyond ; but for this circumstance, it might have been less pleasant 

 to walk along that ledge. 



