82 SPORT IN THE HIGHLANDS OF KASHMIR chap. 



delight in snow, and usually get as far up as possible — 

 so far, indeed, that it is generally a practical impossibility 

 to get above them. Markhor do not like snow, and seldom 

 go higher than the snow-line, looking for crags and rocks 

 at that elevation. It is therefore possible sometimes to 

 get above them, but the ground they select is usually so 

 precipitous that nothing can be done, and they are 

 practically as safe as ibex when lying up for the day. 

 Such being the habits of these two species of goat, the 

 mid-day halt became a necessity, and the morning and 

 evening were alone devoted to searching the hillsides. 



There were some cedars where we stopped that day, 

 and a dry one, suggestive of firewood, had determined the 

 choice of the spot. The cook, with the seven or eight 

 baggage coolies, was behind, so Abdulla, who with Chand 

 and Zaru had alone accompanied me, cooked my break- 

 fast. When the meal was finished, I leaned back against 

 the tree under which I was sitting, and considered the 

 wonderful view before me. 



Right in front lay the Jutyal nala, visible almost to 

 its head, where the stream which fiows along it rises 

 under a huge glacier, below a semicircle of five snow-clad 

 peaks, every one of which is over 21,000 feet high. The 

 highest of these, a giant, rising 24,486 feet above the sea, 

 was called Deobani by the men with me, although an 

 entirely different mountain bears that name on the map. 

 A green patch in this valley marked the position of 

 Darsu, a little oasis in the barren waste of rocks and 

 crags. I could see the green of the cultivated fields, 

 but it was too far to distinguish the water or hear the 

 sound of the stream. To the left of the head of the 



