3o6 /otir/iai of Travel and Natural History 



and up sprang the herd. One female stood out on a projecting rock, and 

 whilst gazing downwards the contents of the second barrel pierced her heart, 

 and she sprang into mid-air and fell bumping from rock to rock down into the 

 yawning abyss below. The male, desperately wounded, was seen following the 

 herd, which in a few minutes disappeared among the peaks above, whilst we in 

 wild excitement set off in hot pursuit of the former, which was discovered in a 



dying state and despatched immediately On our way down the 



mountain, the forest around resounded with the crowing of the plach 

 pheasants, and as we neared the tent I came suddenly on a huge brown bear 

 intently feeding on a clearing. Although his head was directed towards me, he 

 did not seem to notice us until we were within a few yards, and it was too late 

 to make his escape. . . . He had evidently taken up his abode in the glen 

 for some time, for on the following day we traced his footmarks like steps or 

 stairs up the face of the sward to the cliffs where his den was situated. No 

 doubt he had continued for years pursuing the even tenor of his way to the little 

 stream below and grassy slopes, seldom roaming beyond a short distance from 

 cover, where in all probability these patriarchs end their days, and like the 

 Ursus spelffius of old, enveloped in earthy and calcareous deposits, thus pre- 

 serve their remains for unreckoned ages. 



' ' I well remember, when on our way from Wurdwun to Pambur, halting one 

 day on the banks of the Scinde, in the middle of a vast forest tract, and when 

 my servants and Shikaree were employed in stretching bears' skins, I took a 

 rifle and entered the forest in quest of musk deer. After penetrating the wilder- 

 ness for some distance, it suddenly occurred to me that I had forgot the pocket 

 compass, and must now trust to chance in finding my way out. After 

 hours spent in vain attempts to discover the river, night came on and there 

 seemed nothing for it but to wait patiently until the morning. The eternal still- 

 ness, not even the murmur of the pine tops broke the solitude ; in vain I listened 

 for the noise of the river, and longed for morning, when by the first dawn of day 

 I was off on my anxious journey, now rushing down slopes and making my way 

 down hollows, expecting to strike the river at every turn, but always in vain. 

 Horrible feelings of going directly away from the river haunted me, and the 

 cravings of hunger began to be urgent. At length, descending a densely wooded 

 slope of deodars, and gaining a valley and stream, which, after following for 

 upwards of an hour, I came suddenly on the Scinde, and discovered that I had 

 struck the river four miles below my tent. When I reached my companions I 

 was perfectly worn out from the exertion, fatigue, and anxiety, for except a 

 crust of bread and a few pieces of the flesh of a musk deer I killed in the early 

 morn, no food had passed my lips for upwards of thirty-two hours." — (P. 233.) 



The excursion to Ladak supplies matter of considerable interest 

 to the reader, probably fully more than to the traveller, scenes of 

 continued desolation being less agreeable in experience than in 

 description. There is perhaps no place in the world more 

 desolate than these high valleys in the inner ranges of the Himma- 

 layahs. The clouds, heavily charged ^\■ith moisture, brought by 

 the south-east winds from the Indian ocean, first dejiosit the 

 greatest part of their contents in deluges on the Ghauts (the first 



