Instantly both Brown and Stent thought of the same thing: the chance that these Germans might spy others of the Athabasca regiment prowling among the ferns and rocks of neighbouring slopes. The game was nearly at an end, anyway.
They exchanged a glance; both picked up their rifles; Brown nodded almost imperceptibly. The tragic comedy was approaching its close.
"Hirsch" grunted the Herr Professor—"und stück—on the north alm"—staring through his telescope intently.
"Accorded," said Siurd Von Glahn, balancing his spyglass and sweeping the distant crags. "Stück on the western shoulder," he added—"and a stag royal among them."
"Of ten?"
"Of twelve."
After a silence: "Why are they galloping—I wonder—the herd-stag and stück?"
Brown very quietly laid one hand on Stent's arm.
"A geier, perhaps," suggested Siurd, his eye glued to his spyglass.
"No ibex?" asked Stent in a voice a little forced.