106 MY SPORTING HOLIDAYS 



down a little farther on, raced over the snow to 

 an accompanying bombardment of rifle bullets from 

 behind. As fate would have it, I broke the hind-leg 

 of one of them with a lucky shot, and he half ran, 

 half tumbled, over the edge of the snow-field into 

 a deep valley below. We came to the edge of the 

 snow and looked over ; could see nothing of the 

 second deer ; thought of following him down the 

 steep slant ; hesitated ; and finally, having butchered 

 the first buck, we elected to go round. It was 

 fortunate for us that we did so. At the foot of 

 the slope was a small precipice invisible from above. 

 Had we gone down the snow, nothing could have 

 saved us from a nasty fall. We found the buck 

 lying on the rocks below, and finished him with 

 another shot. 



Curiously enough, these were the only reindeer 

 I killed that season. Four good bucks they were, 

 and obtained in two consecutive days' stalking. The 

 last fortnight of that trip, like the first, gave no 

 chance at any deer worth killing. 



The incident of the hidden precipice recalls another 

 episode of the kind that happened in a following year. 

 Again I was hunting reindeer near Snaehetten, and 

 had had fair sport. One day the dog had winded 

 deer, and we were following his lead along a steep 

 hillside, and eventually spied two reindeer, one a 

 large buck, lying in a corrie. Across our path was 

 a steep snow-bank about 20 yards in width, which 

 ended below us in a precipice some hundreds of feet 

 in height. Ole, who was with me, hesitated to cross 

 it, and was for going round. In my youthful im- 

 patience I seized the rifle and endeavoured to cross 

 the slide. The temptation of the deer in front was 



