318 STALKING A DONG. 



torrent of dirty melted snow. Up this we find we must 

 make our way until we can discover a fordable place. Care- 

 fully watching the dong's movements, with our bodies bent 

 nearly double, we move forward a few paces whilst it feeds 

 with its head from us, crouching down motionless as the 

 stones beside us whenever the animal turns towards us. Thus 

 we slowly proceed for several hundred paces, until we gain the 

 cover of a high bank on the far side of the stream. To my 

 great relief, we can now walk upright until we reach a ford- 

 able-looking place some distance farther on. After wading 

 pretty deep through the ice-cold, rapid-running water, we 

 have to double back down beside it until we arrive at the 

 foot of a narrow ravine, some distance up and to the left of 

 which lies the little green flat on which we hope to find the 

 dong. As we slowly proceed up the ravine, treading carefully 

 to avoid rattling the stones, old Changter in a whisper cau- 

 tions me to take time, and not to fire until I can get a shot 

 at the animal's right side, which, he says, is more deadly than 

 the left in a dong. He little knows the penetrating power of 

 a hardened Whitworth bullet. 



At last we reach a point which we judge to be about level 

 with the animal. Here we stop to recover our breath, which 

 has been pretty well pumped out of us by our recent exertions. 

 Stealthily we crawl up the sloping side of the ravine, over the 

 most abominably sharp stones, and on cautiously peering over 

 the top, discover the yak within a hundred yards, now lying 

 with its head turned from us. A slight rattle made among 

 the loose stones whilst trying to plant my elbows steadily for 

 the shot, at once attracts the beast's attention. Springing to 

 its feet with the most wonderful alacrity for such a big brute, 

 it stands broadside on, with its head turned towards us. Be- 

 fore it has time to think of making off, the sharp report of the 

 Whitworth rifle rings out, and I can see the dust knocked up 

 by the bullet ricochetting on the gravelly slope rising beyond 

 the animal. Away the beast goes up the slope at a gallop. 



