110 BOMBAY NATURAL HISTORY SOCIETY. 



with a few yew-trees stretching their arms from crannies, and a deep 

 stony nullah lay between. We could not make out any big one, 

 bat it was mid-day, and big ones would then have been lying in the 

 shade and probably invisible, so we worked down carefully to a 

 ridge that gave us a good view and a good place to stalk from, 

 and watched. At 5 o'clock the markhor had fed down to the steep 

 bed of the ravine between us. and were crossing to our side. 1 had 

 got a glimpse of what seemed a big markhor earlier in the afternoon, 

 but he was among some yews. I could not see his head, and we did 

 not again catch sight of him, but on the strength of the doubt 

 I resolved (luckily) not to fire at anything even medium-sized. Care- 

 fully working down the crags, now and then in full view of the 

 unsuspected herd below, who were too intent on the young grass 

 to be very watchful, I got to within 200 yards, and found that the 

 herd had increased to thirty, by additions from our side of the ravine, 

 but that out of ten males there was only one head worth a bullet, 

 and it was only 27 or so. Accordingly I decided not to fire, but to 

 follow the herd closely as they fed across ridge after ridge, and 

 just watch the animals without alarming them, though they 

 were scarcely fifty yards off. It was now 7 o'clock, but the wind 

 was still steady ; and the sun was sinking behind the hills of Gor, 

 and I was beginning to reflect that I was likely to be belated and 

 have a lodging on the cold ground instead of dinner, the Asian, 

 and bed. Suddenly Mamdu whispered : " There is a big fellow on 

 the edge of the slope" ; and there, indeed, was my very friend of this 

 morning, a grand old shaggy white-haired long beard, with horns 

 sweeping straight up from his stately head ! He was standing in 

 the shade of a yew about 300 yai-ds off, below and opposite. He 

 seemed to ignore the great herd passing him, and came slowly down, 

 the slope as the band of youngsters worked up it. The darkness 

 was falling fast, and I feared that the herd would not be all across 

 the ridge before it became impossible to shoot. I looked at my 

 watch — it was five minutes to eight, as the last small one passed over 

 and out of sight. The big fellow had moved down below some 

 rocks, but I had a good notion of his whereabouts, sol hastened very 

 circumspectly down the steep grassy hollow, avoiding the numerous 

 loose stones as well as I could. Now a bent stick thirty yards off 

 seemed in the gloom to be his horns, and I paused ; but a look with 

 the binoculars showed that it was not the veteran, so down I crept 

 with rifle at the ready, to the edge of the rock, beneath which 



