AFTER TAHIR. 105 



little later ourselves start for the mountains on the left of 

 the pass, where we hear there are tahir. The road was very 

 bad, and we thought to be very clever and avoid the 

 fearful climb the coolies were taking, by following instead 

 the banks of the torrent. We had not gone above a 

 couple of miles, when we were stopped short by a precipice, 

 and had to climb an extremely steep hill to regain the 

 path. Its slopes were covered with short dry grass, so 

 slippery, that, although we were wearing grass-shoes, it 

 was almost impossible to keep one's feet. I was pulled 

 up, literally, for one of the men untied his turban and 

 fastened the end to my waistband. 



We camp high up the mountain, and the ground is so 

 uneven that a place on the hill side has to be dug out for 

 our tent. Alan was out till dark looking for tahir, but saw 

 nothing, nor indeed any trace of big game. Bitterly cold 

 at night. 



November 21st. — Alan had settled to be on the tahir 

 ground before daybreak, and calls Santan just as it is 

 getting light, to know why they have not awakened us. 

 He comes with an ominous crunching under foot, and it 

 does not need his one word "snow" to tell us the 

 reason of his being late. The snow was falling heavily, 

 and there was that dead stillness and dumbness of all nature 

 which seem to come with snow. Suddenly I was aroused 

 by a noise which sounded as though our little tent were 



