u8 GOLOVINSKY. 



foot of the first range of hills, we had to ford that 

 turbulent trout stream, the Golovinsk, and as its 

 waters come straight down from the higher peaks, 

 and are fed almost entirely by melted snow, right 

 bitterly cold we found it. Chilled and wet to the 

 waist, we forced our way through a weary half 

 hour's work in thorn brake and strangling creeper, 

 while the gathered rain-drops ran in streams down 

 our necks and up our sleeves from every bough we 

 touched. 



At last we gained the more open chestnut forest, 

 and here we found how great a boon the rain really 

 was to us. The leaves, which the day before had 

 sounded like small minute-guns under our feet, 

 firing a warning to every beast in the forest, were 

 now soft and silent. Arrived among the chestnuts, 

 Stepan and I separated, he taking a line along the 

 base of the hill, I choosing a parallel line much 

 Irgher up. To-day the dogs had been tied 

 up, and our modus operandi was simply to 

 walk as silently as possible through the forest, 

 stopping every twelve yards or so to listen, and 

 trusting at least as much to our ears as to our eyes 

 to find the game. 



For over an hour I stalked noiselessly on, hear- 

 ing nothing but the rattle of the falling chestnuts, 

 the patter of the ceaseless rain, and the screaming 

 of the everlasting jays. It is easy to understand 

 why the Indian, whose whole life is spent more or 



