CHAPTER VI I I
UNLIMITED SPORT
On leaving Tra-dom, we struck straight across the
plain to a gorge in the mountains to the west, through
which the river passed.
The country was covered with gazelle, but they
were far too wily to offer any but the longest shots.
Not only were they suspicious of the ponies, but even of
the yaks, never allowing any to come within 300 yards.
As soon as the gorge was reached it was evident
that we had entered a far more gamey-looking country.
The hills on either hand were stony and steep,
with ideal nullahs for ovis ammon between. A herd
of these great sheep was indeed seen the next day,
but they had obtained the wind of the camp and were
very much on the alert, making it impossible to get
near them. Where game is, there will wolves be
found, and so it proved the following morning.
Having seen the baggage animals clear of the
camping-ground, I started off with my orderly and
a Tibetan guide to see what luck fortune had in store
for me. We jogged along steadily over the sandy
road for a mile or two, until a likely valley on our
right was met with. Here we left the caravan track
and entered the mountains, but had only proceeded
a few yards when the guide spotted a wolf peering
at us over the wall of a disused sheep-pen. The
excited exclamations of the man soon drew my
280
attention, but several moments elapsed before I could
make out what he had seen. Valuable time had been
lost, but as soon as I knew what the animal was,
we slipped off our ponies, and, creeping, rapidly up to
the wall, peered cautiously over. The yellow-coloured
thief (for they are terrible sheep-killers) was then
some 250 yards away, slinking up the hillside. As
our heads appeared above the crest of the wall, his
curiosity got the better of his usual cunning, and
he stopped to have a further look, fortunately for
me with a dark green bush behind him. The rifle
was on him in an instant, and though it was but a
snapshot, luck was in this instance dead against him.
I saw at once where the bullet had gone, through
his ribs far back, for nothing else—except the final
rush on his prey—would have made him move as he
did. Like a streak of lightning, he crossed the ravine
and breasted the hillside opposite. Never have I
seen such speed in any animal, and hopeless indeed
must be the chance of even the swift antelope when
pursued by the relentless foe. But this one’s evil
days were numbered, for half way up the slope he
faltered, broke into a walk, and after once turning
round, lay down. I gave him a few minutes to breathe
out his life, for I had no pity for him, and intended
to leave nothing to chance. When we reached him,
he was quite dead. He proved to be a splendid
specimen of his tribe, and about six years of age.
His russet-tinted hair was long and silky, and so
closely set that no wind could penetrate to his skin,
the removal of which proved a difficult and tiring
process on account of the great cold, which quickly
transformed the carcase into a lump of ice. When the
operation was completed, the day was too far advanced
to hope for any further sport.