GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 197 



a bowlder, giving me time for only a hurried shot at the 

 last one's white rump-patch. The bullet struck a few 

 inches behind the ram, and the valley was empty. 



Looking down where they had been so quietly feed- 

 ing only a few moments before, I called myself all 

 known varieties of a fool. I felt very bad indeed that I 

 had bungled hopelessly my first chance at an argali. 

 But the sympathetic old hunter patted me on the shoul- 

 der and said in Chinese, "Never mind. They were small 

 ones anyway not worth having." They were very 

 much worth having to me, however, and all the light 

 seemed to have gone out of the world. We smoked a 

 cigarette, but there was no consolation in that, and I 

 followed the hunter around the peak with a heart as 

 heavy as lead. 



Half an hour later we sat down for a look around. 

 I studied every ridge and gully with rny glasses with- 

 out seeing a sign of life. The four sheep had disap- 

 peared as completely as though one of the yawning ra- 

 vines had swallowed them up; the great valley bathed 

 in golden sunlight was deserted and as silent as the 

 tomb. 



I was just tearing the wrapper from a piece of choco- 

 late when the hunter touched me on the arm and said 

 quietly, "Pan-yang li la' (A sheep has come). He 

 pointed far down a ridge running out at a right angle 

 to the one on which we were sitting, but I could see 

 nothing. Then I scanned every square inch of rock, 

 but still saw no sign of life. 



The hunter laughingly whispered, "I can see better 



