264 IN THE LAND OF THE BORA. 



high, but directly afterwards they turned and 

 crossed a snow-patch above. Bang ! again, and 

 the snow flies to the right of the big buck. They 

 are gone, and nothing remains but to retrace my 

 footsteps (measuring my length over an unseen 

 crevasse en route) to where the dog's eye reproach- 

 fully inquires, " What ! no game ? " 



Never mind, doggie, the day is young yet. 

 Better luck next time. I sit down in the bright 

 sunshine, pleasant up here among the snow, to 

 eat my lunch. By the time my pipe is under 

 way I feel decidedly better ; and, fortunately, the 

 wind seems to be fixed once more in its original 

 quarter. " The great charm of chamois-shooting," 

 I reflect, whilst letting my eyes rove over a wide 

 panorama of nearly a third of the Herzegovina and 

 a bit of Montenegro in the background, " consists 

 in the fact that it brings one so entirely alone 

 together with Nature at her wildest and most 



solitary Hullo ! what was that ? " A bugle call 



rings out above me, followed by shouts. A com- 

 pany of the Jdgers from Nevesinje are doing a 

 little Alpine work on the fairly level top of the 

 range which slopes gradually down to their 

 garrison. So much the better, the chamois can't 

 stand that. As I so reflect, a buck appears against 

 the sky-line — a noble sight. I turn my head for 

 a minute, and he has disappeared, no doubt down 

 the tremendous couloir to the big snowfield 



