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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