232 THROUGH THE HEART OF PATAGONIA 



in these spongy swamps, or indeed in most cases over very bad 

 ground. 



In the winter, which was now only too quickly coming upon us, 

 wild-catde shooting becomes, as does the shooting of all game in 

 Patagonia, much easier than it ever is during the rest of the year- 

 The herds descend to the low ground, being driven downwards by 

 degrees while the snows creep day by day lower on the mountam- 

 sides. As they desert the heights the area in which one may expect 

 to meet them naturally becomes smaller, and on the more level 

 country they can be followed with less trouble. The hunting in this 

 big forest was quite different to that on Punta Bandera, the sole 

 method here being to find comparatively fresh tracks and follow 

 them up, there being no possibility among that dense growth of 

 spying animals from a distance. 



One day I had entered an extremely wet and boggy strip of 

 forest and came upon new tracks, which I followed in and out 

 among the trees for some hours. At length they led me up 

 another hill into another belt of forest. I remember that under 

 the hill I took a "spell," and at that moment, although I could 

 not see them, the cattle were within one hundred and fifty yards 

 of me. Fortunately I was very quiet and did not light my pipe, 

 but presently went on. Arrived at the top of the hill, I peered 

 through the branches and saw a fine brindled bull just in the act 

 of rising to his feet. One of the outlying cows had winded me 

 and had given the alarm. My bull was off at a gallop, and there 

 was nothing to do but to send the heavy Paradox bullet into the 

 only part of him that was visible as he dashed away. The shot 

 took effect, he staggered but the second barrel brought him down 

 in good earnest. A third hit him in the centre of the forehead, 

 which is a deadly shot indeed, but with a smallbore rifle one must be 

 careful to place one's bullet clear of the shaggy curl. The first shot 

 had, I discovered, gone forward and upward, touching the backbone ; 

 the second was a fair behind the shoulder shot. I write this to illus- 

 trate the amount of shooting that a wild bull will sometimes take. 

 There are few higher joys in a sportsman's life than the pipe 

 which he smokes after a successful shot, but the skinning of the 

 quarry that comes later is a very different matter. This is 



