nding
into the air like an elastic ball, recovers his feet unhurt, and even
unstunned by the tremendous "header!"

No doubt there is a good deal of exaggeration in these "hunter stories;"
but it is nevertheless true that most species of wild goats and sheep,
as well as several of the rock-loving antelopes--the chamois and
klipspringer, for instance--can do some prodigious feats in the leaping
line, and such as it is difficult to believe in by any one not
accustomed to the habits of these animals. It is not easy to comprehend
how Colonel Markham's tahir could have fallen eighty yards--that is, 240
feet--to say nothing of the supplementary descent of forty-five feet
further--without being smashed to "smithereens." But although we may
hesitate to give credence to such an extraordinary statement, it would
not be a proper thing to give it a flat contradiction. Who knows
whether there may not be in the bones of these animals some elastic
principle or quality enabling them to counteract the effects of such
great falls? There are many mechanical contrivances of animal life as
yet but very imperfectly understood; and it is well-known that Nature
has wonderfully adapted her creatures to the haunts and habits for which
she has designed them. It may be, then, that these wild goats and
sheep--the Blondins and Leotards of the quadruped world--are gifted with
certain saltatory powers, and furnished with structural contrivances
which are altogether wanting to other animals not requiring them. It
would not be right, therefore, without a better knowledge of the
principles of animal mechanism, to contradict the statement of such a
respectable authority as Colonel Markham--especially since it appears to
be made in good faith, and without any motive for exaggeration.

Our adventurers had entered into no discussion of this subject on
observing the descent of the ibex. Indeed, there was nothing to suggest
such speculations; for the creature had fallen from such an immense
height, and come down with "such a thump" upon the hard turf, that it
never occurred to any of them to fancy that there was a single gasp of
breath left in its body. Nor was there; for on reaching the ground
after its rebound, the animal lay with limbs loose and limp, and without
sign of motion--evidently a carcass.

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

THE BEARCOOTS.

Our adventurers were congratulating themselves on this unexpected
accession to their larder; which, like