146 THE MARKHOR 



And now the long journey back over the rocks 

 without the courage hope gives in one's heart and 

 in one's legs. 



I sat still a little longer, and then we started on 

 our backward march, but much more slowly than 

 I had come. More in the arms of my men than on 

 my own legs, I at last managed to reach the point 

 at which this drama had begun. There we had left 

 Unkar with breakfast and warm coats. 



His eyes asked questions, and I felt his reproaches. 

 He began a lively conversation with his comrades 

 about me, of course, and my clumsiness but I 

 could only understand " markhor, markhor." How 

 I hated the word ! For me it meant only reproach, 

 scorn, mockery, and disappointment. 



These Zlatarogs, too, must be under the protec- 

 tion of the white nuns, and nothing but scorn and 

 despair can await him who is bold enough to dare to 

 set foot in their mountain paradise ! 



" I suppose you think you can get him down with 

 that thing," I grumble disagreeably, as the three 

 shikaris continually direct the telescope towards the 

 spot where the sick beast was supposed to be. 



Bas." 



" Markhor," whispers Sultana, pointing across the 

 chasm. 



" For goodness' sake don't let me hear that word 

 again bas, for everlasting bas. Enough of this 

 cruel game ! " 



