CHAPTER XXIV 



THE PUNCH PASS 



THERE are still five sheep alive, Roast gorel I 

 had succeeded in shooting three more fairly good 

 bucks helped to obtain for them a short reprieve. 

 But the poor quintet grows visibly thinner as it 

 follows us day by day, pitifully bleating forth 

 its woes. 



"The red one is to be killed last of all. He 

 is my very good friend. Don't forget this, you 

 heartless old cook ! " 



Or does this reproach really apply to myself ? 

 For the poor sheep has got to go sooner or later. 

 The greater the love, the greater the egoism. 

 Poor things ! How often do they stop and try 

 to still their hunger by nibbling at the sparse grass 

 and weedy plants on the way ! No good ! The 

 coolies and the cook are always there to drive 

 them mercilessly onward. 



We continue our march southwards in the 

 direction of the Punch Pass. The ascent is so 

 gentle that one scarcely notices it, but deep snow- 



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