The Stories of Two Ibex 25 



of the mountains. It is a fine day ; listen to 

 them laughing and chortling high up above your 

 head like a party of schoolgirls. Presently a 

 " tiip, tiip, tiip " ; a great rush of wings and they 

 come sailing over your head. There they go, 

 "tiip, tiip, tiip, tyrrhio tyrrhio tyrrhio," in a 

 splendid curve straight across the gulf to the 

 opposite side of the valley. Another day you 

 sit huddled up peering into a wet fog of cloud 

 that is almost rain. The vapours weave them- 

 selves fantastically round the near rocks, but the 

 surrounding mountains are blotted out, or are 

 only seen as disappearing pictures in the caverns 

 of the mist. Your stalker's heart attunes itself 

 to the scene, for there is nothing to be done to- 

 day. You are depressed by an eerie feeling of 

 remoteness engendered by the silence and the 

 solitude. Somewhere from out of the mist, you 

 know not where, comes a long-drawn mournful 

 whistle. The snow -cock is calling to the jinns 

 of mist and mountain that are surely abroad 

 to-day. 



Towards evening the ibex one by one got up, 

 took a look down and began to descend, first 

 slowly and then more quickly, till by the time 

 they reached the deep green grass, they had lost 

 all their stateliness and apparently all their cau- 

 tion. The procession became a scramble, and 



