“They could never be properly trained; for although the chamois do not in the least mind the clattering of stones or gravel, any unusual sound immediately attracts their attention. A solitary hunter has only to avoid this, and to take care that the wind blows in his face, or, at least, not from him in the direction where he expects to find them. Their scent is something almost incredible, and only equalled by their shyness.” “It is, after all, a very difficult shot,” said Hamilton. “Yes, in Tyrol and Switzerland, where they have been hunted until they have taken refuge in the most inaccessible places—though even there, I doubt the truth of most of the wonderful stories related of them, especially of their so maliciously forcing the hunters down the precipices. It has been proved that the chamois have no remarkable preference for very high or cold mountains; they only choose them in order to have a good retreat among the rocks when pursued.” “That I observed, too, last year,” said an officer, who was of the party, “at Prince Lamberg’s, where there is the best chamois-hunting in Germany, perhaps. They were there so well preserved that they were not more shy or difficult to shoot than other game; and instead of their only being to be found in the evening, or at dawn, they rambled about all day; and when the weather was mild, did not even seek the shade.” “I have heard of Prince Lamberg’s mountains,” said Baron Z——; “he has fifteen or sixteen hundred chamois on them, I hear; but, after all, when one can have them without much trouble, one does not value them so highly; for instance, I shot a chamois some years ago, in Bayrishzill, but was out nearly twenty-four hours before I got a shot—here is his beard, which I have preserved and worn ever since,” he added, taking off his hat and showing a little fan-like ornament, which Hamilton had before observed without knowing its value. “Then they have beards like goats?” said Hamilton. “No,” replied Baron Z—. “This is called a beard, but it is the hair which grows along the back.” “I see something very like a chamois up there,” said the officer, who held a small telescope to his eye. Everyone wished to look—some could not find the place—others imagined they saw _something_—one thought it was the stump of a tree—but some practised eyes having pronounced it to be the desired animals feeding, the party broke up and the chase began.