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horseback, the gazelles at first go much faster, but they are soon overtaken and the car rushes along beside them while the occupants discharge their guns into the terrified herd. It is a massacre, but the shooting is not so easy as it sounds and the driver of the car must have courage and judgment. Sometimes it is impossible to get level with the gazelles. In these cases the object may be achieved by the mere tooting of the horn! Nine times out of ten this will cause the gazelles to stop, the car then stops too, and the tooting continues at intervals until—marvelous to relate—the animals begin approaching to see what the noise is. At this moment the heathen kills just as many head as he wants.

There are few dishes more delicate than a roast haunch of gazelle, and the cutlets melt in one's mouth.

The moufflon—which is not really a moufflon at all, but a sort of goat resembling very closely the animal which is known as the sharpu in Kashmir—is very little hunted. In the first place, he lives in very inaccessible mountains, chiefly in the Aures above Biskra and in the Djebel Amour near Laghouat; secondly, he is getting scarce, and thirdly, his meat not being very tender, is not sought after. If the Arabs see one they shoot it with a shotgun regardless of sex or age; and the European who wants to stalk must understand the game thoroughly himself, be a good mountaineer, and merely employ natives to guide him to the likely spots. It is one of the most astonishing things to see how completely ignorant the Arabs are of all questions of wind or light; their only idea seems to be to rush up to the beasts as quickly as possible and kill in quantity.

But, if the sportsman will take trouble and get into touch with some of the rare Arabs who enjoy this kind of shooting, he will have some excellent sport and get quite good heads.