HUNTING RAMS 215 



the climax of a day's successful hunt for the noble moun- 

 tain ram. 



A heavy wind suddenly swept by and dark threaten- 

 ing clouds began to gather directly above me. Hastening 

 down the ledge, I found a niche in the side of a splin- 

 tered wall which fell sheer a thousand feet to the ragged 

 surface of the slope below. By edging along on a pro- 

 truding shelf of rock I reached it and comfortably stowed 

 myself under its protection, facing the rough-hewn peaks 

 of the western ranges fading in the far horizon, while 

 the sun, about to sink behind them, appeared like a big, 

 crimson globe. 



The clouds above grew black, lightning flashed along 

 the crest, peals of thunder reverberated among the high- 

 walled precipices, and after a heavy rain, great balls of 

 hail half an inch in diameter fell in myriads, rattling and 

 bounding among the rocks, rolling down the precipitous 

 slopes, lodging in crevices and on projecting rocks, and 

 speckling white the broken surface of the mountain. 

 The storm was local and directly overhead. The sky to 

 the west was clear. Through a canopy of darkness could 

 be seen the shadowed valley of the Lapie, in strong con- 

 trast with the rugged snow-striped ranges beyond, whose 

 snowy peaks, rising under a clear sky and gilded by the 

 sun, were rosy gold set in delicate, floating clouds of pink. 



Nature concentrated all her wrath in a short space of 

 time. After the hail, the clouds broke away, leaving a 

 steel-gray sky overhead. 



I quickly photographed the first ram, and finding a 

 route down the precipice, photographed the others and 



