3 86 BIG GAME SHOOTING 



There is a tiny sheep district very far up in the mountains 

 at the head of one of the Frazer's tributaries to which my 

 Indian guide alone knew the trail. He had blazed it three 

 years before, and burnt some timber whilst he was up there, 

 in order that another year the sweet grasses which would 

 spring in the brule might attract plenty of deer to this his 

 private hunting ground. From the bald top of Siyah, as I prefer 

 to call this ground, we could see the great hills round the 



Mr. Arnold Pike's great ram 



Frazer rolling down fold upon fold into their river-beds, their 

 sides red-brown in the sunlight, a rich dark purple in the 

 shadows. We were lying on the very highest ground, spying 

 into a hollow below us in which a solitary sheep was feeding. 

 ' Yoharlequin,' muttered the Siwash, ' it is a ewe.' Just as he 

 spoke we both crouched close to the ground, though we were 

 safe enough even from a bighorn's marvellously all-seeing eyes, 

 for at that moment five more sheep walked slowly into sight. 



