126 IN THE LAND OP THE BORA. 



the intricate recesses of some of the crevices with 

 which the hills abound. 



"You must have a lot of patience," said a 

 Slav to me one day, after he had watched me 

 getting up the tent with two more than usually- 

 stupid assistants ; but certainly more patience still 

 is necessary for sport in Dalmatia, where the blank 

 days form the rule except at certain times and 

 places, as, for instance, wild-fowling in winter, and 

 the periodical migrations of quail and woodcock. 

 I suppose I have this desirable quality — in sport, 

 at any rate — for I have sat fourteen evenings 

 waiting for a roebuck before now, and often 

 walked a score of miles under an Indian with- 

 out even putting rifle to shoulder. At any rate, 

 I had enough to give this particular ground 

 another trial. I took the western military road 

 for some miles, and then turned off into the range. 

 For another hour or more I wandered on without 

 getting a shot. 



These hills are — infested, I had almost said, so 

 let it stand — by numerous mountain sheep, whose 

 scent would appear to be strongly "gamey." 

 Three sound thrashings were required before my 

 dogs would give up running them, but nothing 

 would induce them not to draw on the brutes. 

 Time after time I have followed one or the other 

 for a hundred yards or more, and, finger on trigger, 

 watched the dog " drinking in" the scent in the 



