RED DEER HUNTING IN GALICIAN FORESTS 
in a village in an adjoining valley, and many a fine stag and chamois had 
he taken from the preserves on the other side of the mountain where 
dwelt Ludwig, forester and strong man, whose ambition in life it was 
to catch him. One morning they met suddenly face to face on a hillside so 
steep that both found it scarcely possible to retain a foothold. Both 
managed to bring their rifles to the present, although Karl was encum- 
bered with a buck chamois tied to his back. 
“ You are my prisoner,” shouted the gamekeeper, covering his man. 
“ I don’t think,” replied Karl, or with words to that effect, his rifle also 
pointed at his enemy’s breast. “ But, stay,” he added, “ this is dirty 
work for gentlemen of the mountains. Let us go to a level place and 
fight it out like men with our alpenstocks.” To this the forester at once 
agreed, for he was a man of herculean build. 
In a few moments they reached a level spot, where, after divesting 
themselves of all impedimenta, they set to with a will. 
That must indeed have been a heroic combat and one more worth seeing 
than all the brutal exhibitions of the prize-ring, with money as the sole 
instigator. The two giants slogged and wrestled for half an hour, till the 
staves were useless, and then went at it with stones and fists until at last 
the forester fell from sheer exhaustion and loss of blood. Ludwig lay as 
one dead on the snow, whilst ominous lead -coloured clouds moved rapidly 
over the mountains. Karl looked upwards and knew that in a short time 
his antagonist would be buried in a white shroud, from whose folds there 
would be no awakening. He stood looking at the still body of the man who 
was his natural enemy and who would without hesitation have put a 
bullet into him had he caught him unawares. And then a wave of pity 
overcame him, and he decided to act. With great difficulty he got the 
keeper on his back, and, exhausted and sore as he was, he contrived to 
convey his enemy for twelve miles over the mountains in a blinding snow- 
storm. With the aid of his wife, Karl succeeded in getting Ludwig to his 
hut, where the pair nursed him back to consciousness after three days* 
incessant attention. Yet it was a fortnight before the unfortunate game- 
keeper was fit to walk and return to his duties. One morning he stood at 
the door of Karl’s hut and, holding out his hand, he said: 
** I thank you, Karl. You are a brave man; but if we meet again— remem- 
ber.” And, pointing to his rifle, he walked away. 
Let us hope they never met, for at that moment each must have felt 
that they had fallen back in their former positions. 
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