BITTER WIND 339 



for the herd we had originally been after, but never saw 

 a sign of it. Then we returned to look for the 

 five, but they also had disappeared. Low down on the 

 plain we saw another herd, all lying down, but it was 

 absolutely unapproachable. However, thinking I might 

 get a long shot, I walked up to within about 400 yards, 

 and then lay down and tried crawling. But it was no 

 use. I was quickly detected, and the herd got up and 

 went away. As I saw no decent bucks, I did not much 

 mind, but the impossibility of getting within range, 

 except by accident, impressed me forcibly, and I began 

 to wonder, as we went back to camp, how in the world 

 the shooting of gazelles was ever accomplished. On 

 arrival in camp, I was glad to find that the local shikari, 

 Giato, had arrived, for neither the Kashmiri nor I 

 seemed to have much idea how these antelope were to 

 be shot. We were nearly frozen when we got in, and the 

 bitter wind continued, as on the previous night, till after 

 I was asleep, occasionally even finding its way under the 

 flaps of the tent, laden as they were with heavy stones. 



The morning of the 12th dawned as usual with a 

 bright sun and no wind, but as the thermometer stood 

 then at 26° in my tent, and there was no advantage to be 

 gained by starting early after the goa, I stayed in bed 

 for an hour. When I got up we went to the place we 

 had hunted the day before, as Giato said there was no 

 better ground. We soon sighted a fair-sized herd, but 

 on examining it with the glasses, the Ladaki said it 

 contained no shootable bucks. 



Presently we saw a small herd of three, and these, 

 when viewed through the telescope, were pronounced by 



