204 IN THE LAND OF THE BOEA. 



the tree-trunk, I aimed a couple of lengths in 

 front of him and pressed the trigger. It seemed 

 to me that he slowed down a bit, but on he 

 went. I gave him the other (smoothbore) barrel, 

 not with much hope of a result. Before I could 

 reload, he stopped in the thick of the beeches 

 and stamped his foot, which wounded animals 

 often do. Then with a shrill whistle he dis- 

 appeared down the ravine. It seems that Miller's 

 first shot — a long standing one — had so echoed 

 among the crags that the buck had been unable 

 to locate the firer, and had started straight to- 

 wards us. Something — perhaps the smoke — had 

 caught his eye, and he had bent to our left. 



After this I had very little hope of any result 

 to the drive, but we took up our positions, and in 

 an hour or so the beaters reached us. All I saw 

 was a back half a mile below me, too grey for 

 that of a chamois, probably that of a roe. Then 

 fog-wreaths came driving down, and that too 

 was lost ; when it cleared again nothing was in 

 sight. For the rest of the beat I saw nothing 

 but the great vulture solemnly circling round, 

 and heard nothing but the shouts of our beaters 

 and the yelping of their curs. These dogs brought 

 a line up to Miller (who saw nothing), flashed past 

 him, and picked up the stale line of the chamois 

 beyond. 



The next thing to be done was to return to 



