June 3, 1911.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
843 
A PERILOUS ADVENTURE. 
Of many adventures when after big game, 
not one has remained in my memory so vividly, 
I think, as a narrow escape I had when I was 
about twenty years of age. The incident is a 
remarkable one, too, if merely an instance of 
the utter disregard a man may have of danger 
to life and limb when he is carried away by the 
excitement to the moment. At the time I pro¬ 
pose to speak of I was in Norway in quest of 
reindeer, and, accompanied only by my hunter, 
had reached the slopes of Snachetten—the 
highest mountain of the Dovre Fyeld. Rein¬ 
deer frequently rocky, snow-cover@d mountains, 
where to approach within range without alarm¬ 
ing them is no easy matter, seeing that the 
path to be traveled is always a difficult and 
often a dangerous one. 
On the morning in question we had seen some 
herds of deer in the distance, but had not suc¬ 
ceeded in getting a shot. At length we caught 
sight of three fine bucks in a little hollow some 
way ahead of us, and on ground where they 
were apparently easy to approach. Accordingly 
we set about stalking them, with a firm determi¬ 
nation to succeed this time. Advancing very 
cautiously along a steep mountain slope, we 
were nearly within range when to my disgust I 
discovered that our path was barred by a steep 
snow-slide, the crossing of which offered so 
much danger that my hunter, on consideration, 
declined to attempt it, preferring to the chance 
of an accident a long detour which, besides tak¬ 
ing time, involved a long and laborious climb. 
With the impetuosity of youth, and fired with a 
determination to get one of those bucks by 
hook or by crook, I announced my intention 
of crossing the slide, and, taking my gun from 
the hunter, watched him hurry off so as to re¬ 
join me as speedily as possible. 
I now examined the slide, and found it more 
difficult that I had at first imagined. Have you 
ever attempted to walk, not up or down, but 
across, the sloping roof of a house? On my 
left was a perpendicular and inaccessible wall 
of rock, on my right a precipice many hundreds 
of feet deep, and between the two was the snow- 
slide—a steeply sloping roof of shiny slippery 
snow fully twenty yards across. It became 
evident to me at once that I must either make 
a sudden rush across or else make my way 
very slowly and carefully over, stamping foot¬ 
holds at each step, and, as I was burning with 
anxiety to get near the deer I chose the former. 
I took my rifle in my right hand, and, stepping 
back a little way so as to gather as much im¬ 
petus as possible, started on my perilous jour¬ 
ney. I knew that, provided I did not slip, it 
should not be very difficult to get across; so as 
I ran I planted my feet as firmly as I could. 
I had got three parts of the way over, and 
was congratulating myself on being safe—for 
the friendly rocks on the other side were barely 
five yards away—when suddenly my foot 
slipped, I fell sprawling in the snow, and in an 
instant commenced to slide with increasing 
rapidity toward the precipice at the bottom of 
the slope. In that moment, perhaps the nearest 
to death that I have ever experienced, no 
thought of my danger occurred to me. I was 
simply filled with the keenest disappointment at 
the prospect of not getting a shot at the deer, 
and in struggling instinctively to clutch hold of 
something I never left go of my rifle. I had 
slid to within a few yards of the precipice when 
my outstretched left hand happened to come in 
contact with a small knob of firm rock just level 
with the snow. I clutched on to it with all my 
strength, and, my downward course being stayed 
with a jerk which almost sent the rifle out of 
my hand, I succeeded in pulling myself on to 
my knees, and after hammering a foothold with 
the stock of my rifle, I was able to get a fresh 
start, and then rushed across the remaining few 
yards. 
The whole thing, though it takes many 
minutes to describe, was over almost in as many 
seconds, and without a backward glance at the 
scene of my narrow escape, I crept forward 
until I was within 150 yards of the three bucks, 
at the finest of which I proceeded to take care¬ 
ful aim. My shot was a good one, and I had 
No Metal Can Touch You 
_ 
