PERSIA 
is surprising. In this country a climb of more than 2,000 feet to gain a 
spying-point is rather the exception. 
A word here about the quaint figure clothed in a faded and tattered 
blue robe that in these Persian highlands takes the place of homespun-clad 
Duncan or Donald. On his head a dirty skull cap, over his shoulders a 
wondrous old matchlock, its spiked rests sticking out like the prongs 
of a haymaker’s fork, hung about with powder and bullet horns, the 
shikari, spare in build, lean of leg, steps softly from rock to rock, foothold 
to foothold, with surprising ease and balance. Persia has been likened 
to another place, not usually mentioned in polite society, in two respects, 
the scarcity of water and the nature of its inhabitants. About the correct- 
ness of this remark I for one am not disposed to argue, but I would at 
least interpose a word in favour of the Persian shikari, for, like hunters all 
the world over, the good in him much outweighs the bad. He has, however, 
no use for your glasses. He probably thinks, if he thinks about the matter 
at all, that such aids are only intended for eyes of less perfect efficiency 
than his, and it must be admitted that little in the way of game escapes 
them. As he moves slowly along, his hand shading his eyes, he knows 
exactly where to look. He examines the grazing grounds of the morning, 
peers into the dark, cool chasms where the ibex lie up during the heat of 
the day. He knows, above all, what to look for. You, in the meantime, 
may spy the more distant ground, and if you can manage to pick up a 
herd with your prismatic binoculars before he does with his unaided 
sight you will have every right to be pleased with yourself. 
Some of the crags are ugly enough, but the rock is usually hard and 
sound. Though for all sorts of ground and conditions of weather there 
may be, and doubtless is, nothing in the way of footgear to beat the “ well- 
greased shooting boot,” the article da pays is, as usual, worth a trial. 
On the dry rocks of the Persian plateau it would be hard to find anything 
to equal the giva. This is a shoe of which the cotton uppers are woven in 
one piece, stout but elastic. There are no laces, the shoe being sprung on 
to the foot, where it remains clinging, like one’s own skin. Both feet are 
made exactly the same, but a little wear makes them an absolute fit. 
The soles are also of cotton, treated in a way that makes them hard and 
lasting, but pliable, and having on rock a “ high coefficient of friction.” 
They are very light and give one a very blessed feeling of confidence on 
bad ground. 
The Persian ibex is C. aegagrus , the animal supposed to be the father 
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