128 BEAR SHOOTING 



but he himself was not at home. Probably he had winded 

 or heard us in the morning. 



I had fired my last shot on this trip, and what a sad 

 miss I had made of my last bear-stalk ! Wounding that 

 bear still lay heavy on my conscience ; I felt it more than 

 any other mishap that had befallen me during this tramp. 



We camped next night near a bed of snow that 

 had a tiny lake at its lower edge. The green grassy 

 slopes about this bit of water were the favourite napping- 

 places of vultures ; we disturbed numbers of them lying 

 about when we came up, and their feathers were scattered 

 in every direction. It was a delightfully green little spot ; 

 a bracing breeze was blowing over it, and the omnipresent 

 hill-crow was sailing around as I sat writing my notes. 



This was our last evening at these altitudes, 10,000 

 feet — I had not been lower for nearly two months. 



In three days I was back again in Bandpiira, and was 

 received with salvoes of thunder and brilliant flashes of 

 lightning. 



