322 SHORES OF THE CASPIAN. 



rough throne some small branches made a fairly 

 dense screen ; and as some compensation for the 

 deficiencies of my seat, I discovered two deep 

 cavities, into which my long jack-boots fitted 

 admirably. Perched here, I heard the last soft 

 scrunch of my companions' retreating tread ; and 

 then taking a preliminary look at my watch, I 

 fairly settled down to my night's vigil. 



For a time, of course, we could expect nothing. 

 Our passage through the woods was sufficient to 

 have precluded all hope of seeing any game for 

 an hour to come. How still it all seemed. 

 Even the sea is a noisy babbler compared to the 

 depths of a forest at night. What a glorious 

 moon that was that gleamed down through the 

 network of creepers and wild vine above, throwing 

 long shadows on the grassy opening below. But 

 how slowly the moments pass ! Is it possible I 

 have only been here a quarter of an hour? I 

 move restlessly, though silently, on my perch, 

 and then the intense cold which is numbing my 

 right leg calls for attention. On withdrawing 

 the suffering limb from its hiding-place the 

 mystery is solved that comfortable hole, which 

 fitted the foot so excellently, is a natural well, 

 in which the offerings of many forest showers 

 have been carefully stored. No wonder that, as 

 the water soaked through during that frosty night, 

 the unlucky leg grew numb. The change of 



