IN THE LAND OF THE BORA. 241 



On another afternoon I sallied out in the 

 hope of reaching the hottom of the tremendous 

 precipices which here hound the Botin (6000 

 feet), the highest point of the Velez, hut, as a 

 matter of fact, I went some miles too much to 

 my left. An hour's walk Drought me into a dense 

 heech wood, and then, by a desperate scramble, I 

 reached a long ridge, which I followed. The snow 

 became thicker and thicker, and was covered in 

 places by the old droppings of chamois, now gone 

 higher up. At last I got right into a snow-field 

 underlying the splendid trees. I walked for half 

 an hour on snow a couple of feet deep, but so 

 hard that I did not sink in at all. Of fresh game 

 tracks I saw none, but one a couple of days old, 

 which I took to be that of a galloping roebuck. 

 I got to know those tracks better soon as those 

 of chamois. At another place a small bear had 

 been whetting his claws on a tree-trunk, but so 

 long ago that his footprints had melted away. 

 The size of the bear is easily estimated from the 

 height to which the marks reach, as they stand 

 up to embrace the trunk. Not long afterwards, 

 on this very ridge, I saw some I could not reach 

 on tiptoe. 



I descended this ridge on the opposite side 

 into a valley I was afterwards fated to know well. 

 At its lower end a streamlet (strange sight here) 

 ran purling over the stones. I followed a wood 



R 



