72 SHORT STALKS 



disposition, and are always the best beasts, are often to be 

 found quite low down ; but as tliey are experienced old 

 hands, they know well what precautions to take to save 

 their skins. One especially noble fellow, with a very fine 

 head, lived on a scrubby slope of the mountain within easy 

 shouting distance of the chalet of Campoggiolo. He had 

 frequently excited our covetous instincts, but he was very 

 crafty and we never got a shot at him. The natives were 

 almost inclined to regard him superstitiously, as we were 

 by no means the only hunters who had tried in vain to 

 outmanoeuvre this crafty old general. 



One day in the year in (juestion I had not left the bottom 

 of the valley for three minutes, to make the ascent of this 

 hill, when I heard the shrill hissing whistle which sends 

 the heart into the mouth of every chamois hunter, and 

 my shaggy black friend, whose form I knew so well by 

 examination through the glass, sprang away not twenty 

 yards off. Hoping for another sight of him, I threw myself 

 on the ground into shooting position. I had scarcely done so 

 when he sprang on a rock thirty yards off, and surveyed us 

 for several seconds. There could be no doubt of him this 

 time. I could lay the bead against any part of his black 

 neck or shoulder which I chose, and I even think that, in 

 that brief second, I made up my mind on what part of my 

 walls I would hano- his head. A mockino- click was all that 

 followed. I was near enouoh to this old buck to see him 

 wink, and I believe he did wink, before he slowly turned 

 and sprang out of sight. I will conclude this chapter witli 

 the memorable words with which Bernardo consoled me 

 on that occasion — "Ma c/tc roletef e diavolo!' 



