288 IN THE LAND OF THE BORA. 



the breche. Alas ! it was blocked at the far end 

 by a mass of fallen rocks. Well, I hadn't climbed 

 up here to be beaten now, and a look into the 

 valley I was going to have. Slinging my rifle, I 

 tackled the rock to the right on hands and knees ; 

 but it was only to find other and harder rocks 

 beyond. My blood was up now, and, thinking to 

 myself that I must find some other way down, I 

 wriggled over a rounded peak without either hand 

 or foot hold, with a drop beneath that I wouldn't 

 have looked down for something. Another minute 

 and I was peering into the valley, which I soon 

 saw was utterly devoid of life. The next question 

 was to get back. It could clearly only be done by 

 a climb to the right, where the rocks were more 

 broken. Five minutes did it, and then I had a 

 look into the other valley, not without the re- 

 flection that what I had not already seen there 

 must have seen me. Of course there was nothing, 

 A bad place caused me to keep right out 

 towards the valley here, and just as I was about 

 to turn to descend towards the dog, crash ! down 

 went a loose stone, and a big single chamois 

 bounded out of the rocks not fifty yards away. 

 Mr. Buxton, in " Short Stalks," makes the perti- 

 nent reflection that man is the noisiest of animals, 

 and as a rule this is true ; but he can hardly have 

 been thinking of a chamois. I will cheerfully back 

 myself to make a great deal less noise moving than 



