Once a Week (magazine)/Series 1/Volume 9/An excursion after chamois
AN EXCURSION AFTER CHAMOIS.
“What do you say, Paulet, to a day or two among the mountains, chamois shooting?”
“I should like it very much. This is a very pleasant place to visit, and the scenery is very grand, and all that sort of thing, but I am getting dreadfully tired of having nothing to do.”
“So am I. Let us have Karl in, and ask him how we can manage it.”
Without loss of time we sent for Karl. He had been serving us in all sorts of capacities ever since he had relieved us from an unpleasant situation, by procuring a couple of mules from some distant place for our use on an emergency. This was about ten days previously, and though he was of no particular use to us, he was so urgent that we would not send him away while we remained in the country, that we had not the heart to dismiss him. When we asked him if we could not have some chamois shooting, he brightened up in a most singular fashion. Generally he was subdued and rather cringing in his manner, but at our question he drew himself up, looked full in our faces, and seemed altogether another individual. From his answers we found that we might get permission to hunt, but that to do so would occupy more time than we had to spare, and so we gave him to understand; whereupon he timidly suggested that if we did not object to go without permission, he and a friend of his, one Ludwig Bachstein, would willingly accompany us. As what he proposed was nothing less than a poaching expedition, we hesitated whether we ought to accept the offer of their services; but however easy it is to see the enormity of shooting a man’s pheasants without his consent, or at all events of killing them without having first procured the authorisation of the law, the case seemed widely different when it was a question of risking one’s life and limbs in the pursuit of wild goats in Bavaria. After some further discussion, in the course of which Karl assured us that it might be undertaken with perfect safety so far as the keepers were concerned, if we gave them a fee in the event of our meeting them, we agreed that we would make the excursion. We had only to go to the gunsmith’s in the town to borrow a couple of capital rifles, and to Karl was left the task of providing everything else we required. We were met by Ludwig at a hut on the side of the mountain, where, at Karl’s suggestion, we stopped to get a drink of milk. He was by no means so prepossessing in appearance as Karl; there was an air of recklessness about him which seemed to indicate greater familiarity with the pursuit of game in opposition to natural risks and gamekeepers. The first day was spent in climbing without either of us getting a shot, and towards evening, when we were all so tired that we could scarcely put one foot before the other, Ludwig led us to a cavity hollowed out of the friable stone which formed the side of the mountain at this place. The material displaced in this operation was heaped up in front of the cavity, and thus served not only to make it a more comfortable place of shelter, but also to screen the interior from the view of persons even at a short distance. Being heated and tired, we requested Karl to light a fire at once and make some tea; but before he did so he and Ludwig set to work to dig up the ground beneath the spot whereon it had been lighted on some previous occasion. On our inquiring the reason of their doing this, Karl told us Ludwig would explain it presently. At last the fire was lighted, the tea made, and our evening meal finished, and we were adding considerably to the smoke from the fire—which pervaded the hollow to an extent anything but agreeable—by that from our pipes, when I thought of the preliminary digging to which the hearth had been subjected.
My question on this matter was replied to by Ludwig.
“Between three and four years ago,” said he, “there was a man named Fuchs who lived in a hut lower down. He had one cow and some goats, and was not badly off; but he had a great passion for hunting, and he used to gratify this at all risks, but by a lucky chance the keepers could never lay hold of him. He had himself been a keeper some years before, and had been dismissed, it was supposed through information given by another keeper who had courted the girl Fuchs had married, that he was in the habit of shooting game for his own use. This keeper, who was better known as the Black Bear than by his real name, for some time after the dismissal of Fuchs, kept out of the way of the latter, fearing, and not without good reason, that in the event of their meeting in the mountains it might fare ill with him; and though the law was on his side, he was too much of a coward to trust himself within gunshot of the man he had injured. Years even had passed, and both had travelled from the sunshine of life into the shade, and yet they had never once spoken to each other; on the contrary, the enmity of the Black Bear seemed as strong as ever, for he was often heard to declare that if he ever caught Fuchs poaching on the mountains, he would shoot him with no more reluctance than he would a wild cat. It was perfectly well known to everybody round, that Fuchs did not keep his rifle for target shooting only, but though everybody knew this, he continued to set the law at defiance with impunity, till the occurrence of an event which terminated his career as poacher and farmer.
“One morning his wife came down in great affliction to the village nearest his hut to ask for help to seek her husband, who had been away among the mountains for four days, and to whom she feared some accident had happened. Her son had started in search of his father some hours before, and had not returned. Several men immediately left their work, and, staff in hand, began their journey through the woods and up and down the mountains in search of the missing man. They had divided themselves into parties of two each, and travelled in different directions. One of these parties found themselves at sunrise the next morning on the verge of a wood, into which they entered. The first rays of the sun penetrated between the trees here and there, and lighted up a golden path, till it was stopped by the trunk of a tree. To men in search of an object in the gloom of a forest, these glowing tracks were so many lures to attract the eye. Following one of them, it led to their perceiving the man they were seeking. He was sitting on the ground, his left side leaning against the trunk of a tree, and his head hanging down, as though he were asleep. Beside him lay his rifle, and about him numerous birds were hopping, as if aware he was no longer capable of injuring them, or else attracted to the spot by the sight or smell of the body of the chamois which lay behind him. His neighbours spoke to him, but he made no answer, and on one of them raising his head he had but just strength enough to open his eyelids and faintly murmur the words, ‘Bear—shot;’ and then he closed them again, to open them no more. He had been shot through the body.
“The men shouted, to attract the attention of their fellow-seekers; but instead of their calls being responded to by these, three foresters, among whom was the Black Bear, presented themselves. One of the men directly charged the last-named keeper with having caused the death of Fuchs, and he admitted it, but asserted that he had not fired till after Fuchs had fired at him. Of course the keeper was not punished. Fuchs was in the act of breaking the law, and not only that, but, according to the statement of the keeper, was the aggressor. This assertion neither the son nor the friends of Fuchs believed; and though his rifle had been fired, and the wadding was picked up close to his body, they asserted their belief that the Black Bear had himself fired it off after shooting its owner.
“Ernest Fuchs, the son, was at this time sixteen years of age. He was not much esteemed by his associates, being regarded as effeminate, a character he had acquired chiefly through his love of reading romances. After his father’s death he left off reading, and took to wandering about among the mountains, so that many thought the tragical end of his father had completed what romance-reading had begun, and that his brain was disturbed.
“Some eight or nine months after the event related above, a frightful rumour spread through the district in which widow Fuchs’s cottage was situated, to the effect that five of the foresters had been blown to pieces while sitting round their fire. The rumour slightly exaggerated the fact: instead of five, only three of the keepers, including the Black Bear, had been killed in the manner related. The way in which their murder was effected was soon known. Ernest Fuchs had previously told a companion that he would revenge his father’s death, and how; but the latter had regarded it as being mere wild talk, resulting from ideas he had derived from the perusal of the works referred to. Ernest, on being captured and interrogated, stated that he had employed himself during the whole of the period that had elapsed since his father’s murder in following the keepers and watching where they lighted their fires, and, after they had gone, burying a quantity of gunpowder beneath the site of these, knowing that in the course of their rounds through the forests they would return and light their fire on the same spot, in consequence of its being a sheltered nook. The suspicion that Ernest was not in his right mind was confirmed by the doctor, and very soon afterwards he was seized with brain fever, which carried him off. Wherefore,” concluded Ludwig, “and because we have heard it said that the foresters have resorted to the same plan of burying gunpowder in several of those places where poachers have been known to pass the night, we always dig up the ground beneath the cold hearth before we light another fire.”
At the height to which we had climbed, the morning sun lighted up the mist, so that we seemed to be moving midst a golden vapour, while below us it appeared still dark. But for Ludwig’s perfect acquaintance with the locality, we should not have dared to move; as it was, we had to be extremely careful to save ourselves from falling down rough descents which, though not dangerous to life, would have caused considerable pain. I was close to Ludwig, and was thinking much more of my personal safety than of chamois, when he suddenly put his hand on my chest, and then pointed to the summit of the crag we were about to ascend. I could just discern the dim outline of a goat, standing with stiffened legs and head raised in a listening attitude. I was removing the handkerchief I had wrapped round the lock of my rifle, when my friend fired, and the animal’s body came rolling down the side of the crag to the place where we were standing. It was picked up and hidden in a hollow beneath pieces of rock, which our guides heaped over it, and we continued our way in pursuit of others. The mist soon cleared away, and gave us a splendid view of the wild mountain scenery, which of itself would have repaid the labour we had undergone. Our glasses were soon in requisition, for the purpose of discovering what to us, just then, was of far more interest than the picturesque; and by dint of careful examination we discerned three chamois feeding in a little valley a considerable distance below us. Ludwig took my friend with him, to make the descent at some distance, while I and Karl were to descend from the spot whereon we were standing, The width of the valley was but trifling in comparison with its depth, and the side was so steep and rugged, that before we had descended a hundred yards I felt disposed to throw a piece of rock into the valley, to disturb the animals and attract their attention to us, knowing they would, according to their usual practice, rush up the steep side of the mountain opposite, which I felt assured was within range of our rifles. Karl objected to this, as being an expedient which was not likely to be successful; as, though they would rush up the side, they would not be likely to climb it exactly opposite us, but would spring from point to point in a lateral direction, which would carry them beyond the effective range of a bullet. Soon the descent became so very difficult, as to be absolutely dangerous, as the consequence of slipping and rolling down the side of these mountains is far more serious than a similar slip among the snow-covered Swiss mountains, a broken limb and innumerable bruises being the least misfortune which might be expected to result from such an occurrence. At last I refused to go any lower, as on looking down I perceived that the descent was rapidly becoming almost vertical. Placing the point of my staff against a slight projection below me, and the butt against my chest, I sat up to take a fresh view of the chamois in the valley. Their heads were turned in the direction in which my friend and Ludwig had gone, and it occurred to me that if I alarmed the animals now, they would certainly rush within range of their guns, if I failed to kill. I loosened a fragment of rock from the side of the mountain, and threw it as far from me as I could; I then put my hat on the end of my rifle, and waved it. The chamois were at once alarmed, and began bounding upwards from point to point of the narrow projections, with limbs as rigid as though the mere concussion was sufficient to carry them upwards to any height they desired. Seeing they were taking a lateral direction, which would effectually prevent my getting a shot at them, I determined to fire, small as was the chance of hitting them. Hastily capping my rifle, I was in the act of raising it to my shoulder, when, finding the end of the staff in my way, I knocked it aside with my left elbow, forgetting in my eagerness how much I depended on this to keep me from rolling down the precipice. The next instant I fell over on my face and hands, my fingers being so lacerated by being beaten between the sharp rock and the rifle, that I was quite unable to use them for the moment, so that I lost the chance of stopping myself at the outset, and went rolling down the side of the mountain as helpless as a stone. I clutched at everything that came under my hands, but vainly, either owing to the friable nature of the rock, which gave way and rolled down after me, or my fingers were torn away by the weight of my body. A continual succession of acute pains, varied by a sensation as though I were falling through space, was terminated by a blow which rendered me insensible. When I recovered my senses, I found myself wedged in a chasm, utterly unable to move, and too weak to call out. Battered, bleeding, and suffering so acutely as I was, every second may have seemed an hour between the time of my recovering consciousness and hearing the voice of my friend Paulet calling to me from above, and beseeching me to make a sign, if I could not answer him. I was held with my left side downwards, and was able to move my right arm slightly. This motion, which showed him I was not dead, removed his fears, and he called to me in a cheerful tone to keep up my spirits, as they would soon get me out. Directly afterwards I felt somebody was trying to raise me, but I was jammed between the sides of the chasm so tightly, that the force required to drag me out caused me such intense agony, that I became insensible again. Fortunately, while I was in this condition, they succeeded in raising me to the surface; and when I was again sensible, I was lying on my back in the valley. By arranging a portion of their clothing in the manner of a bier, they carried me to a hut without the motion adding very much to the pain caused by my wounds and bruises. I had to lie here for three weeks, swathed in bandages dipped in cold water, before I could move about with tolerable ease; so I think I have good reason to remember my first and last poaching excursion in the wilds of Bavaria.