"It's harder to get ibex."
"Nonsense!"
"It really is, Jim."
"What does your ibex resemble?"
"It's a handsome beast, ashy grey in summer, furred a brownish yellow in winter, and with little chin whiskers and a pair of big, curved, heavily ridged horns, thick and flat and looking as though they ought to belong to something African, and twice as big."
"Some trophy, what?" commented Brown, working away at his sketches.
"Rather. The devilish thing lives along the perpetual snow line; and, for incredible stunts in jumping and climbing, it can give points to any Rocky Mountain goat. You try to get above it, spend the night there, and stalk it when it returns from nocturnal grazing in the stunted growth below. That's how."
"And you got one?"
"Yes. It took six days. We followed it for that length of time across the icy mountains, Siurd and I. I thought I'd die."
"Cold work, eh?"