This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1894 edition. Excerpt: ...the strength and distinctness of the markings, perhaps I may venture to describe the occasion. It was in the November of 1869. The moufflon at this time of the year are in the habit of leaving their usual rocky fastnesses for four or five weeks, and, descending into the valleys and lower hills, live upon ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1894 edition. Excerpt: ...the strength and distinctness of the markings, perhaps I may venture to describe the occasion. It was in the November of 1869. The moufflon at this time of the year are in the habit of leaving their usual rocky fastnesses for four or five weeks, and, descending into the valleys and lower hills, live upon acorns amongst the great woods of vastly aged cork and ilex trees that clothe the valleys and bases of their favourite crag-topped mountains for miles and miles. Finding it exceedingly hard to come upon the moufflon by fair stalking whilst they were down in the woods, we found the best plan for getting at them was to send an old Italian chasseur (who with his two hounds had accompanied us from Italy) to draw the woods and gorges at the earliest dawn of morning, whilst we, leaving our camp in the woods an hour or two before light, used to make for a couple of the best passes among the high crags, to which the moufflon would be pretty sure to go when disturbed in the woods below. Upon the morning in question we had not been long waiting before we heard the deep bay of one of the hounds, and in a moment or two every crag and ragged gorge was echoing and re-echoing in the clear, cool morning air with the sounds of the merry chase that was going on so far beneath us. The pass I was on commanded an enormous gorge, from the sides of which ran out smaller gorges into the iron sides of the granite hills. In the middle of this jutted up a rounded rock, like some mighty citadel, 300 feet in height. After about five minutes of great suspense, during which time I had been peering into the depths below me, trying in vain, amongst the confusion of the echoes, to catch a glimpse of either hounds or moufflon--not knowing at what moment a clatter of hoofs might be...
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