THE RIFLE ON MOVING GAME. 293 



The Count says, 'Nix, das ist eine frau;' and so it 

 proved, for in another instant out stepped a little kid. 

 They stood still for nearly a minute, then ran along 

 the side of the mountain without observing us. In 

 chamois-shooting none but the bucks are shot; there 

 is but slight difference in the horns, but a hunter can 

 tell a buck at a long distance. At first I could not see 

 the slightest difference. The sound of the beaters 

 now reached our ears, the rattle of stones above us. 

 I looked just in time to see three young chamois 

 bound away. Soon comes another with a kid, dread- 

 fully frightened at the beaters. She ran within ten 

 feet of us and stopped. She was looking behind her 

 and did not discover us until I laughed. She was so 

 frightened she turned around and knocked her little 

 one over, and aw r ay she went down the mountain. 

 We sat still for a long time until beaters reached us, 

 without seeing any more; then we prepared to go 

 down. 



" Bread and honey, how is that for breakfast, to 

 climb mountains on ? But once more I shouldered 

 that old Winchester, and followed, all smiles, far in 

 the rear. A distance of five miles, then we commenced 

 to climb another mountain. At last I reached my 

 position, the lowest one of all, thanks to the kindness of 

 the Count. I watched the other shooters until out of 

 sight, then sitting clown with a beater left to look 

 after me, the Count taking a chance himself. He 

 excused himself from me by saying he never had 

 any luck; and so it proved, the females all paying him 

 their respects, much to his disgust. I had not sat 

 long in my position when I saw the horns of a stag 

 through the trees directly on my right. The beater 

 said, 'Shoot.' I was not in any hurry, I felt so sure 



