The Journal of a Sporting Nomad 
the trouble to get up on to their legs. It was a 
most interesting thing to watch from my coign 
of vantage, and as I turned away to go back to 
camp, I noticed that the ewe that had been 
attacked had lain down again, and the ram 
was peacefully grazing close by. 
Next day it was my turn to try the mountain 
in front of us. Having spied a nice bunch of 
sheep nearly on the top of the hill, I made a 
detour to get above them for a stalk. This took 
a long time, as the climbing was very stiff. After 
working hard for an hour or more, I had spotted 
the flock, in which there was one excellent ram. 
I left the half-breed behind me now, and started 
to try my luck. I managed to crawl to within 
eighty yards, then on inspection found that the 
ram was lying down. He had a lovely head, 
which I envied as I watched him through my 
glasses. Nothing could be done; I had to wait 
until he got up. Suddenly the whole lot jumped 
to their feet and started at a headlong pace 
down and across the hill—I was sure they had 
not seen or winded me. I now stood up, and 
my disgust was beyond expression when I saw ~ 
my companion and that brute of an Indian 
calmly strolling along at the foot of the moun- 
tain. To say that I was angry would be futile, 
I was furious that they should have taken this 
direction when they should have left it to me for 
the day. The half-breed and I continued our 
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