IX THE LAND OF THE BORA. 2G7 



About a quarter of an hour after starting, I 

 approached a cliff not more than a dozen feet 

 high. I was thinking of nothing less than 

 chamois, when all of a sudden there, not forty 

 yards away, stood a buck. What ought I to have 

 done ? Certainly thrown away my stick, grabbed 

 my gun, and taken the running shot, for my right 

 barrel was loaded with buckshot. As it was I 

 obeyed my first impulse, and squatted. Of course 

 I realized the buck had seen me, so, as soon as I 

 was ready, I sprung to my left, in which direction 

 his head had been turned. This brought me to a 

 ten-foot cliff, down which I bundled anyhow, and 

 now I stood on the main cliff. Surely he must 

 pass this way. So he did, but that 'particular cliff 

 happens to overhang, and he passed right under it 

 tinseen. Still, as I had calculated, he stopped at 

 the end. It was a longish shot, but no longer 

 than some I killed later on. Why — oh, why — was 

 I in such a hurry that I could not stop to think 

 how often I have missed by not remembering to 

 sight low when the game, as in this case, was a 

 long way below me ? And at this elevation, too ! 

 At the shot he wheeled round, a clear proof the 

 bullet had gone high. Beloading,:I fired a futile 

 snap shot as he plunged downwards through the 

 beech scrub ; and then I sat down to think over 

 the mess I had made of this glorious opportunity. 

 Thinking I should see him again, I reloaded once 



