[{"id": 47735, "created": "2015-03-18T12:56:37.870029", "project_id": 128, "task_id": 29240, "user_id": 427, "user_ip": null, "finish_time": "2015-03-18T12:56:37.870055", "timeout": null, "calibration": null, "external_uid": null, "media_url": null, "info": {"other": "", "translation": "in the middle of the way, so then it has to go away. This is our custom. Nobody says anything against it, lest of all the owner of the hunting grounds.\"\r\n\"The owner of the hunting grounds?\" the little man asks and once more wipes his pair of pince-nez. \r\n\"The new owner of the hunting grounds is already a very old and warped man who doesn't understand a thing about it. A certain baron Kutschhandl from Vienna, he is. I don't even know him.\"\r\nThey are standing at the foot of the north face. Carefully, Veit looks up to the steep cliff. \"Let us hope they will leave us in peace, these accursed chamois\", he says and looks all around. \"I would not want to meet one of them today. That could turn out bad. God beware if I had to shoot, for I don't like to do it. But no worries today. Such a beautiful day.....\"\r\nHe ties the man to the rope. Then they start ascending. Deeper and deeper the lake lies below them, fathomless black, endlessly deep, as if the earth were without any ground and had only a deep, dark hole there, where the Pragser Wildsee is located. The sun rises above the mountain. It starts to get warm. \r\nAll of a sudden, when they are already halfway in the north face, Veit yells quickly and stealthily: \"Sh, sir. Be very quiet now. Something is standing over there.\"\r\nThe man looks over to the cirque. True, there, on a small ledge of grass, a chamois buck is standing, perfect, as if it was painted on a target.\r\n\"Sir, now hold on tight and stand sure, so that you won't fall down from the face, when it cracks\", Veit says and lifts the deer rifle up to his cheek. \r\n\"How dare you\", says the man. \"That buck is not even in our way. It can't by any means.....\"\r\n\"Sh, sir. You can never know what such an animal has in mind. It might very well dance along over our heads. Later, when it will be above us in our route and kicks down stones, it will be too late. With a giant hole in one's head, I won't be able to shoot anymore, and you, sir, the less so, for you don't have a Tyrolean head.\"\r\n\"But I am telling you, guide.....\"\r\nBoom, off goes the shot through the cirque. The buck throws back its horns and rushes up to the ridge in wild jumps.\r\n\"Oh, cripes, now I missed it. That was only because the accursed sir can't do what I told him. Grip tightly, I said, take a stand and be quiet. That is what you get when you take such a poor man up here to go chamois-hunting.....\"\r\n\"But excuse me....\"\r\n\"I excuse nothing, botheration, in the mountains I am in authority and not you, sir. That that buck escaped me, and I had it so clear in the sight. It would have been a perfect shot, sheer delight, such a shot. But then you had to keep your mouth open all the time and dance around and pull at the rope when I pull the trigger, so that I dubbed that beautiful shot.\"\r\nAngrily, Veit spits his chewing tobacco down across the north face and sticks a new roll in his mouth. Then he yells rudely: \"Up, go, sir\", and pulls the man up behind himself toward the peek.\r\n\"Guide, actually I would like to ask you.....\"\r\n\"You are not allowed to ask anything\", Veit growls, \"and if I were the chamois buck I would now climb up to that band of rocks and throw the largest ones down the face.\"\r\nAround noon, they have reached the summit. The man wants to know the names of the mountains lying around them like a wreath and shining. But Veit only grunts: \"I don't know no names of any mountains. Should I know all of Tyrol's mountains, for such a small fee? I know nothing.\"\r\nGrumpily, he sits down on the summit's block and looks down into the cirque. \r\nThe man takes the summit book out of the tin box and leafs through it. Then the hands the book to the guide. Veit places the book on his knee, licks the pencil's tip and just wants to sign his name, when he reads: \"Seekofel via the north face. Franz Baron von Kutschhandl.\"\r\nVeit startles and gets frightened. \"Oh seven hells\", he thinks, \"now I am done for. Now that man is the baron, our owner of the hunting grounds.\"\r\nAnd the bright day turns black and gloomy, and the wide world becomes narrow: four bare walls and an iron bar. Three months for attempted poaching, he calculates, and then the guide's book, three years or...", "transcription": "mitten in der Routen, nachher muess es weg. Does ischt so Brau bei uens. Da sagt[;]kein Mensch nix und der Jagdherr schun gar nit.\"[;]\"Der Jagdherr?\" fragt das Manndl und wischt wieder seinen Zwicker ab.[;]\"Der neue Jagdherr, does ischt ja schun an alter, windschiefer Grau-[;]derer, der von der ganzen Geschicht nix mehr versteht. Ein gewisser Baron Kutsch-[;]handl aus Wien ischt es. I kenn ihn gar nit.\"[;]Sie stehen am Fusse der Nordwand. Der Veit schaut vorsichtig zu den[;]jaehen Felsen empor.[;]\"Bal sie uens lei heut in Ruah lassen, doe Gamsen, doe verflixten,\"[;]sagt er und spaeht die ganze Gegend ab. \"I moecht nit ham, dass uens heut eine[;]begegnet. Es koennt schiech hergehn. Epper muesst i gar schiessen, bal is ah[;]nit gerne tue. Aber heut kenn i nix. So a schianer Tag......\"[;]Er bindet den Herrn ans Seil. Dann steigen sie auf.[;]Tiefer und tiefer sinkt der See hinab, abgruendig schwarz ist er, end-[;]los tief, als waere die Erde ohne Boden und haette dort, wo der Pragser Wildsee[;]liegt, nichts als ein tiefes, finsteres Loch. Die Sonne kommt ueber den Berg her-[;]auf. Es wird warm.[;]Ploetzlich, wie sie schon in der halben Wand klettern, ruft der Veit[;]schnell und heimlich: \"Bscht, Herr. Ganz stad sein hiez. Da enten steht was.\"[;]Der Herr schaut hinueber in das Kar. Richtig, dort auf dem kleinen Rasenfleck steht ein Bock, sauber, wie auf eine Scheibe gemalt.[;]\"Herr, tuet hiez fest Griff fassen und guet hinstehn, dass oes mir nit[;]aus der Wand fallt, bal es kracht,\" sagt der Veit und reisst den Kugelstutzen an[;]die Wange.[;]\"Was faellt Ihnen ein, meint der Herr. \"Der Bock ist uns doch gar nicht[;]im Weg. Er kann doch nicht....\"[;]\"Bscht, Herr. Does kann man gar nit wissen, was does Vieh im Sinn hat.[;]Er kann ja auer tanzen ueber uensre Koepf. Nacher, bal er amol ueber uens oben[;]ischt in der Routen und Steiner ablasst, nacher ischt es z'spat. Mit an Trumm[;]Loch im Kopf kann i nimmer schiessen und der Herr schun gar nit, der kein Tiro-[;]ler Schaedel nit hat.\"[;]\"Aber ich sage Ihnen doch, Fuehrer......\"[;]Wumps, kracht der Schuss durch das Kar. Der Bock wirft die Hoerner[;]zurueck und jagt in wilden Saetzen den Grat hinauf.[;]\"Oh, Himmelfixlauden, hiez hab i'n ge'fahlt. Does ischt lei, weil der[;]verflixte Herr nit tuen kann, wia i gsagt hab. Griff fassen, hab i gesagt, Stand[;]nemmen und stad sein. Does hat ma, bal ma so an notigen Herrn da mitnimmt auf[;]die Gamsjagd.......\"[;]\"Erlauben Sie.....\"[;]\"Gar nix erlaub i, Himmelfixlauden. In die Felsen hab i allein anz'-[;]schaffen, nit der Herr. Muess mir der schiane Bock auskemmen, und i hab ihn[;]schun so guet auf der Mucken g'habt. Es war a Prachtschuss worden, a wahre Freud[;]so a Schuss. Aber da muess der Herr allweil sein Maul offen ham und muess um-[;]mergaukeln und am Seil ziechen, daweil i abdruck, dass es mir den schiansten[;]Schuss verreist.\"[;]Wuetend spukt der Veit seinen Kautabak ueber die Wand hinab und schiebt[;]eine neue Rolle hinter die Backen. Dann schreit er grob: \"Auf, hiez, Herr,\" und[;]zieht den Herrn hinter seiner nach hinauf auf den Gipfel.[;]\"Fuehrer, ich moecht Sie eigentlich fragen....\"[;]\"Gar nix hat der Herr z'fragen,\" knurrt der Veit, \"und bal i der Gams-[;]bock waer, steiget i hiez auen zum Schotterband und schmeisset die groessten[;]Brocken ueber die Wand.\"[;]Um die Mittagszeit sind sie oben auf dem Gipfel. Der Herr will die Ber-[;]ge wissen, die ringsum in weitem Kranz dastehen und glaenzen. Aber der Veit brummt[;]bloss: \"I weiss keine Berg nit. Sollt i um so lausigs Tarifl, so a mittelmassigs,[;]die ganzen Tiroler Berg wissen? Nix weiss i.\"[;]Saugrantig hockt er auf dem Gipfelblock und schaut hinunter ins Kar.[;]Der Herr tut das Gipfelbuch aus dem Blechkasten und blaettert hin und[;]her. Dann langt er das Buch dem Fuehrer hin.[;]Der Veit nimmt das Buch auf sein Knie, netzt den Bleistift an und will[;]grad seinen Namen darunter setzen, da liest er:[;]\"Seekofel ueber die Nordwand. Franz Baron von Kutschhandl.\"[;]Erschrickt da der Veit und fahr auf. Oh, hoellisches Teufelsmanndl,\"[;]denkt er, \"hiez ischt does Maloer fertig. Hiez ischt does Sauloetterl da gar[;]der Baron unser Jagdherr.\" Und schwarz und finster wird der helle Tag, eng wird[;]die weite Welt: Vier kahle Mauern und ein eisernes Gitter. Drei Monat fuer ver-[;]suchten Wilddiebstahl, rechnet er, und dann das Fuehrerbuechl fuer drei Jahr oder[;]"}}, {"id": 48902, "created": "2015-03-25T16:18:12.255602", "project_id": 128, "task_id": 29240, "user_id": 877, "user_ip": null, "finish_time": "2015-03-25T16:18:12.255630", "timeout": null, "calibration": null, "external_uid": null, "media_url": null, "info": {"other": "", "translation": "When a chamois is so silly as standing in the middle of our route, it must go.  That is our custom.  Nobody will complain least of all the hunt's master.'\r\n\r\n[;] 'The hunt's master?' asks the manikin and cleans his glasses again.\r\n\r\n[;] 'The new hunt's master he who is now an old, crooked fellow* who does not understand hunting any more.  A certain Baron Kutschhandl from Vienna, he is.  I don't know him.'\r\n\r\n[;] They are standing at the foot of the north wall.  Veit looks carefully up at the precipitous rocks.\r\n\r\n* Grauderer; is Tyrolean dialect, I gave the most likely sense, as no direct translation possible\r\n                                                             \r\n                                                                       3\r\n[;] 'I wonder * whether they will leave us in peace today, the confounded chamois,' \r\nhe says surveying the whole area.  'I do not want to encounter one today.  But it could happen.*  In the end I would have to shoot, what I don't want to do.  But today I'll tackle anything,  Such a beautiful day....'\r\n\r\n[;] He ties the manikin to the rope.  Then they begin to climb.\r\n\r\n[;] Lower down and lower down appears the lake, profoundly black and fathomless deep, as if just here the world were without a bottom, and at the spot of the Pragser wild lake nothing showed but a deep, black hole.  The sun climbs over the mountain.  It gets warm.\r\n\r\n[;] They are already climbing up half the wall when Veit suddenly calls quickly  and furtively, 'Psst Sir.  Be very quiet there.  Down there stands something.'\r\n\r\n[;] The man looks down into the vale.  Right, down there on a small patch of grass is a chamois, so clear as if painted on a disc.\r\n\r\n[;] 'Sir, hold fast and stand firm, don't fall from the wall if it bangs,' says Veit and and lifts the carbine to his cheek.\r\n\r\n];] 'What are you thinking of?' says the little man.  'The buck is not in our way.  It can never....'\r\n\r\n[;] 'Psst, Sir.  One cannot know what the beasts intends.  It can dance above our heads.  And afterwards, when he stands above us in our route stone pushing, yes, afterwards it is too late.  With a hole in my head I cannot shoot and Sir neither who does not even have a Tyrolean skull.'\r\n\r\n[;] 'But I tell you, guide, ....'\r\n\r\n[;] Bang!  The shot rings through the vale.  The buck tosses back his head and in great leaps tears up towards the mountain crest.\r\n\r\n[;] 'Oh drat it!* I have missed him.  That comes because confounded Sir cannot do as he is told.  Hold tight, I have said, stand firm and still.  There for once one takes a poor gentleman on a chamois hunt.....'\r\n\r\n[;] 'Excuse me....'\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n* Bal - Tyrolean slang -  I gave the sense of it.\r\n* schiech hergehn - Tyrolean idiom; I gave the meaning of it\r\n                                                                  4\r\n[;] Nothing will I excuse by all that's holy.  Among the rocks it's I who makes decisions, not Sir.  Now that fine buck will escape and I had as good as caught him.                                                            \r\nIt would have been an ideal shot, a sheer delight of a shot.  But Sir must open his mouth, wriggle and pull on the rope while I just take aim, so that in the end the shot misfires.'\r\n\r\n[;] Enraged Veit spits tobacco down the rock wall and puts a roll under his buttocks.\r\nRoughly he shouts,  'Up here, Sir'  pushing him up towards the mountain top. \r\n\r\n[;] 'Guide, I want to ask you something....'\r\n\r\n[;] 'Sir has nothing to ask', growls Veit, 'and if I were the chamois buck I would climb up the Schotterband, gather the biggest rocks and throw them over the wall.'\r\n\r\n[;] Around midday they are up on the summit.  The gentleman wants to know the names of the surrounding shining mountains.  But Veit only grumbles , 'I don't know these mountains.  Shall I for such a lousy fee, such a modest fee, know the names of all Tyrolean mountains as well?  I know nothing.'\r\n\r\n[;] Bad tempered* he crouches on the summit looking down into the vale.\r\n\r\n[;] The gentleman fetches the summit book from the metal box, turning the leaves.  Then he presents it to the guide.\r\n\r\n[;] Veit puts the book on his knees and is just about to write his name with a pencil when he reads:\r\n\r\n[;] 'Seekofel via the North Wall.  Baron Franz von Kutschhandl.'\r\n\r\n[;] Horrified Veit rears up.  'Oh you hellish, devilish manikin', he thinks, 'now the mishap is complete. This goblin turns out to be the baron, our hunts master.'  Dark and black becomes the fine day, narrow the wide world: to four bare walls and an iron railing.  Three months for attempted poaching, he estimates and then his guide licence withdrawn for three years or perhaps permanently.  O dear God, o God.....", "transcription": "na"}}]