CHAMBA 31 



out a herd of about a dozen ibex moving slowly uphill 

 towards us. We wanted to get to the spot where 

 the nullahs joined before the ibex could reach it, 

 as then, whichever way they turned, we might 

 have a chance at them. 



We scrambled down queer places and my feet 

 hurried on much faster than the rest of me wanted 

 to go. I kept on tumbling, couldn't keep my feet a 

 minute, hung on to juniper trees to try and pull 

 myself up, at the same time racing after the flying 

 Fuffia, who, with the coolie, kept on tumbling down 

 too. 



We tried to work to the end of the bowsprit, but 

 a precipice stopped us and we had to go some way 

 round. The wind was right, but no doubt our mad 

 career had disturbed the tringol. Two of the females 

 saw us and warned the rest, and they began to make 

 off, wending their way amongst rocks about 150 or 

 200 yards away from us. I fired at the biggest male 

 I could see, and missed. Another stood for a moment 

 and I hit him in the neck. I shot a second through 

 the heart, and they both tumbled and rolled and 

 bumped a long way down and landed close together. 

 They were small horns, and, if I had known more 

 about ibex then, I should never have fired at all. 



It was a funny climb down. At every step we 

 started avalanches of stones, and, if one clung on 

 to one of these, it was almost sure to give way and 

 go clattering below. Both the ibex were, of course, 

 stone dead, but as Fuffia was cutting the head off 

 the biggest one, it gave a loud baa, which so startled 

 him and the coolie that they dropped it quickly 



