178 IN THE LAND OP THE BORA. 



smartly once more. But though the moon was 

 shining brightly as ever, I saw nothing till some- 

 thing appeared on the sky-line a couple of hundred 

 yards higher up. The pointed muzzle and short 

 sharp ears were plain enough, and left no doubt 

 as to the genus of the animal. The fox, however, 

 got to ground presently, and I saw no more game 

 before daybreak. 



As a rule shooting near Mostar may be said 

 to be the same as in Dalmatia, with much more 

 game. Hares are numerous, three thousand skins 

 being sold in Mostar in '94. Stone-hens are 

 extraordinarily plentiful; a friend of mine, Ober- 

 lieutenant von Wurtzbach, killed 183 in December, 

 '95. Partridges are less common, but still the 

 keeping of a good pointer is remunerative, 

 especially as there are the migrants to be reckoned 

 with. Perhaps the best idea of the sport can be 

 obtained from the description of a day of a mixed 

 sort. One fine winter morning I left home not 

 long after sunrise, accompanied only by my two 

 dachshunds. From the railway station an im- 

 posing avenue, bearing the name of the Arch- 

 duchess Stefanie, has been laid out, which one 

 day will be the centre of the Mostar of the future. 

 At present, however, it is flanked by marshy 

 maize-fields, a favourite resort in winter of the 

 snipe. Here, then, we will begin. 



Keeping the dogs close to me, I go quietly 



