268 IN THE LAND OF THE BORA. 



more, and as he stood whistling out on the snow 

 I let him have my last two cartridges with the 

 second sight up. As the first shot struck to his 

 left he sprang to one side, but he failed to mark 

 the next, nor did I see it. For a moment I had a 

 vain hope that the bullet had found its billet, but 

 presently he walked off calmly, and, as the glass 

 showed, untouched. So there was nothing for it 

 but to join the dog, who, unable to get down the 

 rocks, was now waking the echoes, and who was 

 soon off on the scent. 



When I reached the snow I looked back. He 

 had just reached the foot of the precipice at a 

 place where I thought even he could not get up. 

 (Later on, however, I saw the same two chamois 

 ascend more than half of it, though it seemed 

 quite sheer all the way up.) After a last look at 

 us, he calmly ascended an imperceptible ridge on 

 the face of the rock. Disturbed above and below, 

 he had taken to the chamois' last refuge — the face 

 of the sheer cliff. A minute later the dog took up 

 a line across the snow, and, going to the place, I 

 found the tracks of a second chamois going hard 

 down towards the woods. This proved before all 

 doubt that I had been concerned with the same 

 two all the time, and had lost three chances — two 

 by my own stupidity. When I reached home it was 

 five o'clock, and as I drank my tea I reflected sadly 

 on that other beverage to which I had been so freely 

 treated that day — the waters of disappointment. 



