ed.

The musk deer use their tusks for fighting and also to dig up the
food upon which they live. I frequently found new pine cones which
they had torn apart to get at the soft centers. During the winter
they develop an exceedingly long, thick coat of hair which, however,
is so brittle that it breaks almost like dry pine needles;
consequently, the skins have but little commercial value.

Late one rainy afternoon Tserin Dorchy and I rode into a beautiful
valley not far from where we were camped. When well in the upper
end, we left our horses and proceeded on foot toward the summit of a
ridge on which he had killed a bear a month earlier.

Motioning me to walk to the crest of the ridge from the other side,
the old man vanished like a ghost among the trees. When I was nearly
at the top I reached the edge of a small patch of burned forest. In
the half darkness the charred stumps and skeleton trees were as
black as ebony. As I was about to move into the open I saw an object
which at first seemed to be a curiously shaped stump. I looked at it
casually, then something about it arrested my attention. Suddenly a
tail switched nervously and I realized that the "stump" was an
enormous wild boar standing head-on, watching me.

I fired instantly, but even as I pressed the trigger the animal
moved and I knew that the bullet would never reach its mark. But my
brain could not telegraph to my finger quickly enough to stop its
action and the boar dashed away unharmed. It was the largest pig I
have ever seen. As he stood on the summit of the ridge he looked
almost as big as a Mongol pony. It was too dark to follow the animal
so I returned to camp, a very dejected man.

I have never been able to forget that boar and I suppose I never
shall. Later, I killed others but they can never destroy the memory
of that enormous animal as he stood there looking down at me. Had I
realized that it was a pig only the fraction of a second sooner it
would have been a different story. But that is the fortune of
shooting. In no other sport is the line between success and failure
so closely drawn; of course, it is that which makes it so
fascinating. At the end of a long day's hunt one chance may be
given; then all depends on a clear eye, a steady hand and, above
all, judgment. In your action in that single golden second rests the
success or failure of, perhaps, a season's trip. You may have
traveled thousands of miles, spent hundreds of dollars, and had