352 IN THE LAND OF THE BORA. 



to try my luck, and, loading my indefatigable 

 Duran with my " Breadalbane " mackintosh, in 

 addition to my ruck-sack, I sent him for the 

 hounds. Dorothy being hors-de combat from snake- 

 bite the previous hunting day, I could only take a 

 couple, but these were reliable. Less than two 

 hours' walk brought us to old Zaklan's hiica (house), 

 and I proceeded to enlist his services and take his 

 advice. The old man was far and away the best 

 sportsman I met here, and reminded me to some 

 extent of my Ceylon trackers. He never failed to 

 find me game, though, of course, a single sports- 

 man must be lucky to get a shot over hounds. I 

 always let him have the little rifle I had used in 

 Dalmatia, but he never hit anything with it. The 

 mighty hunter of this country is not used to the 

 bullet, a handful of slugs, nails, etc., being more 

 in his line, and even then a standing shot must be 

 obtained. This they get by giving a low whistle, 

 which brings most animals to a momentary stand- 

 still. 



On this particular morning there were several 

 villagers at the house, and a grand palaver ensued. 

 Meanwhile I will try and describe to the reader 

 the nature of the ground where it was finally 

 decided to hunt, the old man having seen chamois 

 there recently. 



The streams of this district, towards their con- 

 fluence, resemble in plan, roughly speaking, a K 



