Then from the heights on the left, and already above us, sprang into view a band of five chamois lightly skipping from ledge to ledge with an agility that cannot be conveyed in words. The Conde and I fired simultaneously. The beast I had selected pulled himself convulsively together, sprang in air, and then fell backwards down the abyss whence he had just emerged. So abrupt was the skyline that no second barrel was possible; but while we yet gazed into space the rattle of falling stones right _behind_ attracted attention in that direction, and a chamois was bounding across that loose moraine (or "canal" as it is here called) by which we had ascended. He flew those jumbled rocks as though they were a ballroom floor, offering at best but a snapshot, and the bullet found the beast already protected by a rock. Hardly, however, had cartridges been replaced than three more _Rebecos_ followed along precisely the same track, and this time each gun secured one buck. Note that all these last four animals had come in from our _right_, that is, they had escaladed the "cathedral"; though by what earthly means they could surmount sheer rock-walls devoid of visible crack or crevice passes human comprehension. For myself, having regarded the cathedral as impassable, I had kept no watch on that side. For the next half-hour all was quiet. Then we heard again the rattle of hoofs somewhere down under, and on the sound ceasing, had gently raised ourselves to peer over into the eerie abyss in front, when a chamois suddenly poked his head over the rocks within fifteen yards, only to vanish like a flash. From this advanced position, in the far distance we could now distinguish the beaters, looking like flies as they descended the opposite circle of crests, and could hear their cries and the reverberation of the rocks they dislodged to start the game. An extra burst of clamour denoted game afoot, and a few seconds later another chamois (having once more mocked the cathedral barrier) darted across the moraine behind and fell within a score of yards of the previous pair, though all three were finally recovered several hundred feet below, having rolled down these precipitous screes. The first chamois I had shot had fallen even farther--at one point over a sheer drop that could not be less than 100 feet. His body was smashed into pulp, every bone broken, but curiously the horns had escaped intact. We were much struck by the clear emerald-green light in the eyes of newly killed chamois. The beaters being now close at hand, we scrambled down to rejoin the Padre who had occupied the _puesto_ next below ours. We found that worthy man very happy as he had succeeded in putting two slugs into a chamois-buck, to which the _coup de grâce_ had been given by Don Serafin lower down.