THE I.ESGHIAN MOUNTAINS. 279 



tracks when ill pursuit of his favourite game, or 

 stop too often to help his less goat-like followers, 

 I never crossed with him such difficult places as 

 these Lesghian grass-slopes. Too hard to give 

 you any hold for your alpenstock, the short fine 

 grass slips from under the iron claws of your 

 clamps ; the butt of the rifle slung across your 

 shoulders comes in collision with the steep bank 

 and almost hurls you into space ; the claws of the 

 clamp catch in your other boot as you cautiously 

 pass one foot over another, and at every step it 

 seems a toss-up whether you go or stay. 



It required, then, no small inducement to tempt 

 me to continue my toil when the end of the day's 

 journey had been reached. But the inducement 

 was there. As we stood for a moment at the 

 door of the hut to take in some of the grandeur 

 of the scenery which surrounded us. seven glo- 

 rious red deer came tossing their heads as they 

 followed one another round the boulder of a neigh- 

 bouring crag. Between us and them was a great 

 gulf fixed, which could only be crossed by a dilli- 

 cult and tedious climb ; but the stag's magnificent 

 head was a prize worth trying for ; so, tired though 

 I was, I took one of the Tartars with me. and as 

 soon as the herd had passed behind a ridge, started 

 on their track. Following close in their steps, we 

 had to cross a sheet of frozen snow hanging like a 

 pentice over the edge of a bottomless abyss. My 



