A RUNNING SHOT 197 



males, the third a fine old ram. Whether these 

 were a fresh lot, or part of the herd we had dis- 

 covered in the morning, I could not tell. As soon 

 as they were hidden from view we rushed, Lepet 

 and I, towards the cliffs. My companion was con- 

 fident we should find them, though I rather doubted 

 it, as they did not seem to me inclined to settle down. 

 As we reached the edge of the precipice we began 

 peering carefully over into the depths below, and 

 Lepet suddenly stopped like a statue, beckoning to 

 me to move forward ; but I had hardly time to come 

 up when out of the crags dashed the three rams in 

 wild confusion some hundred yards beneath me. A 

 running shot was my only chance. By the time I 

 took my aim and fired at the biggest sheep he was 

 fully 1 50 yards off, and great was my amazement 

 when I saw him stagger for a second and, consider- 

 ably slackening his pace, walk slowly away, whilst 

 the two younger rams halted and kept looking back, 

 apparently waiting for their superior. But the poor 

 old fellow was very weak, and soon lay down in a 

 hollow. "Jakski, baaloii" ("Bravo, wounded"), said 

 Lepet with a triumphant smile, as he sat down to 

 watch the animal through his glass. The others had 

 now abandoned their comrade to his fate. I could 

 plainly distinguish from where I was his shoulders 



