A DIFFICULT STALK 



93 



a stretch of snow in a gully close by, and occasionally it 

 looked as if one of them was eating snow. Every now 

 and then a markhor would get up on a rock and stand 

 motionless, gazing down the hillside for minutes at a 

 time, showing clearly that there was no chance whatever 

 of approaching from that direction. After an hour or so 

 of this, we resolved to get breakfast over, — so, lighting a 

 fire in a secluded hollow, we discussed that meal, every 

 now and then going up to see whether the herd had 

 moved or not. After breakfast we resumed our watch, 

 and in about an hour found that only one of the lot was 

 in sight, the rest having retired either in amongst the 

 cedars, or over ridges that we could not detect from where 

 we were. In a short time after, the last markhor disap- 

 peared into a hollow on the far side of the corrie, and 

 after carefully examining the ground to make sure no 

 watchful sentinel was still in sight, we (Abdulla, 

 Zaru, and I) started downwards for the stalk. The 

 ground was uncommonly bad. Again and again we were 

 turned back by precipices there was no getting past, 

 for between the ridges running down there were big 

 fissures in many places, with perpendicular sides, and too 

 wide to be jumped. So we had to descend quite half- 

 way to the Indus before we were able to travel at one 

 level, along the inside of the curve formed by the range. 

 Eventually we found ourselves pretty nearly under the 

 corrie in which our game had been last seen, and then we 

 began going up. The ground was loose shale, fairly 

 steep, and dotted over with the small, sage-like aromatic 

 bush which wild goats are so fond of. It was hard 

 work, and I was fairly exhausted when we reached the 



