320 CHAMOIS HUNTING. 



and a single streak of crimson is sufficient to betray all you want to 

 know. 



ct A flower thus stained, to the hunter brings 

 More joy than the reddest rose ; 

 It telleth a tale, to his heart as dear 

 As the blush that doth all disclose." 



Once I remember shooting at a wild-boar, and, on going to the spots 

 found only that he had passed on into the wood. A beater who, like 

 myself, was also looking about, called to me that I had missed, and 

 showed me, in proof of his assertion, the hole my bullet had torn in a 

 young pine close by. But even this did not convince me, and I still 

 followed the track of the boar. At some distance I found bristles on 

 the snow, and a little further the boar also, quite dead, but no blood 

 anywhere except on the spot where he lay, although the ball had passed 

 right through the body before entering the tree. 



But the strangest sight I remember to have witnessed occurred with 

 a fallow-deer — a buck. I came suddenly upon him while grazing in a 

 glade, and fired. I looked to see the result of my shot, but he neither 

 fell, nor dashed away. In a moment he began rocking to and fro where 

 he stood. I went towards him, but he took no notice of my approach, 

 and continued the rocking motion as before. I pushed him with my 

 hand, and he rolled over and was dead. The shot-hole was quite 

 round, and showed no redness, — not the least sign of blood was visible, 

 and the opening was filled up by the chewed grass on which the animal 

 had been feeding. 



