308 Unexplored Spain 
convey the fragments beneath the snow—where to appear 
next? Each step had to be cut with a hatchet, or hollowed 
—the butt of a rifle is not intended for such work, but has had 
to perform it. 
Every day we saw ibex on the snow-fields and towering rocks 
above our cave. They were now of a light fawn-colour, very 
shagey in appearance, some males carrying magnificent horns. 
One old ram seemed to be always on the watch, kneeling down 
on the very verge of a crag 500 or 600 yards above us, and 
which commanded a view for miles—though males read but 
paltry words! From where that goat was he could survey half 
a dozen provinces. 
These ibex proved quite inaccessible, and nearly a week had 
passed away ere a wild-goat gave us a chance. One night shortly 
after quitting my post, little better than a human icicle, and not 
without fear of scrambling caveward in absolute darkness along 
the ice-slope, a little herd of goats passed—mere shadows—within 
easy shot of where, five minutes before, I had been lying in wait. 
On another morning at dawn the tracks of a big male showed 
that he, too, must have passed at some hour of the night within 
five-and-twenty yards of the snow-screen. 
But it was not till a week had elapsed that we had the ibex really 
in our power. Just as day broke a herd of eight—two males and 
six females—stood not forty yards from our cave-dwelling. The 
fact was ascertained by one Estéban, a Spanish sportsman whom 
we had taken with us. Silently he stole back to the cave, and 
without a word, or disturbing the dreams of his still sleeping 
employers, picked up an “ Express” and went forth. Then the 
loud double report at our very doors—that is, had there been a 
door—aroused us, only to find the spoor of that enormous 
ram, the spot where he had halted, listening, above the cave, and 
the splash of the lead on the rock beyond—ezghteen inches too 
low! an impossible miss for one used to the “Express.” Oh, 
Estéban, Estéban! what were our feelings towards you on that 
fateful morn ! 
Life in a mountain-cave high above snow-level—six men 
huddled together, two English and four Spaniards—has its weird 
and picturesque, but it has also its harder side. Yet those days 
and nights, passed amidst majestic scenes and strange wild beasts, 
have left nothing but pleasant memories, nor have their hard- 
