292 IN THE LAND OF THE BORA. 



ten inches, and of these I am fortunate enough 

 to count myself one. 



The bullet was nicely placed in the shoulder, 



which was shattered. It was a little high 



(due to the 5500 feet elevation, perhaps), but 



the frothed blood at the mouth showed that 



the lungs were penetrated. The meat of old 



chamois, especially bucks, is worthless. I should 



have liked, however, to have taken home the 



skin, though the fur in early autumn is of little 



value. Time, however, did not allow of the 



lengthy process of skinning, so all I could do was 



to transfer the head and feet to my rucksack. 



Before I left the dead beast I ripped up the skin 



so as to enable the lammergeier * to get to work 



more quickly. Enormous as this bird is, he has 



little strength in beak or claws; and even the 



smaller vultures, though better provided in these 



respects, will often sit a day or two by a fresh 



carcase till incipient putrefaction makes their task 



more easy. 



I had been walking, or, strictly speaking, 

 clambering, over the rocks with my load about 



* Unless soon protected by the Government, this noble and 

 harmless bird will soon be extinct in the Herzegovina. 

 Austrian collectors pay large sums for their skins, and every 

 pot-hunter is after them. A gendarme, even, shot one in 

 January, 1896, at Euiste, and they are nominally forbidden to 

 shoot. 



