over the steep, stony ground, or wind
through the pines, speaking in whispers, lest your voice reach the quick
ears of your prey, that keeps its head ever pressed against the wind.
Here and there, in the hollows of the hills, lie wide fields of snow,
over which you pick your steps thoughtfully, listening to the smothered
thunder of the torrent, tunnelling its way beneath your feet, and
wondering whether the frozen arch above it be at all points as firm as
is desirable. Now and again, as in single file you walk cautiously along
some jagged ridge, you catch glimpses of the green world, three thousand
feet below you; though you gaze not long upon the view, for your
attention is chiefly directed to watching the footprints of the guide,
lest by deviating to the right or left you find yourself at one stride
back in the valley--or, to be more correct, are found there.

These things you do, and as exercise they are healthful and
invigorating. But a reindeer you never see, and unless, overcoming the
prejudices of your British-bred conscience, you care to take an
occasional pop at a fox, you had better have left your rifle at the hut,
and, instead, have brought a stick, which would have been helpful.
Notwithstanding which the guide continues sanguine, and in broken
English, helped out by stirring gesture, tells of the terrible slaughter
generally done by sportsmen under his superintendence, and of the vast
herds that generally infest these fjelds; and when you grow sceptical
upon the subject of Reins he whispers alluringly of Bears.

Once in a way you will come across a track, and will follow it
breathlessly for hours, and it will lead to a sheer precipice. Whether
the explanation is suicide, or a reprehensible tendency on the part of
the animal towards practical joking, you are left to decide for
yourself. Then, with many rough miles between you and your rest, you
abandon the chase.

But I speak from personal experience merely.

All day long we had tramped through the pitiless rain, stopping only for
an hour at noon to eat some dried venison, and smoke a pipe beneath the
shelter of an overhanging cliff. Soon afterwards Michael knocked over a
ryper (a bird that will hardly take the trouble to hop out of your way)
with his gun-barrel, which incident cheered us a little, and, later on,
our flagging spirits were still further revived by the discovery of
apparently very recent deer-tracks. These we followed, forgetful, in our
eag