CHAPTER XL 



THE MARKHOR SIGHTED AT LAST 



MY morning tea is cold, and my poor inside is 

 colder still after a freezing sleep on a mattress of 

 granite. 



Day is just dawning as we climb the last steps, 

 and, holding our breath, take an eager peep into the 

 realm of the markhor. 



What shall we see behind that stony curtain ? 

 What do they look like, these Himalayan Zlatarogs ? 

 How will they show themselves ? Will their 

 mountain stronghold look different from the other 

 mountains ? 



It is still too dark to answer any of these questions 

 so dark that we cannot even distinguish objects 

 quite close to us. I wriggle forward on my 

 stomach without a sound, except for the loud 

 beating of my heart as far as the nearest projecting 

 rock. Then I cautiously raise my head, stare down 

 into the depths, squint towards each side, peep, 

 listen, and try with every sense and muscle to 

 penetrate the dark veil of dawn. 



120 



