26 Sport and Life in the Further Himalaya 



down they rushed, the little ones larking about 

 and tumbling over one another like a pack of 

 school children let loose. But it was too dark 

 for a stalk, and we left them scattered about the 

 alpine pastures below us. My first shot at ibex 

 looked almost a certainty for to-morrow, and my 

 dinner off a roast leg of urial shot a few days 

 before, and the "tappio" pudding beloved of 

 Eastern chefs, might have been an alderman's feast 

 for all I knew or cared. After dinner a pipe, and 

 I went outside to look at the weather before 

 turning in. It was a glorious night. The crescent 

 moon was just setting behind a queer -shaped 

 mountain the other side of the Astor river, and 

 the dark mass took to my ibex-heated imagination 

 the resemblance of a gigantic buck lying down, 

 with the moon his golden horn. 



But alas for youth's imaginings ! Next morn- 

 ing, when I should have been getting up with 

 the first glimmer of light in the east, the patter- 

 patter of rain on the tent made me spring from 

 my bed and poke my head out between the flaps. 

 Black as Jorrock's cupboard was the morning, and 

 pouring dismally. Five o'clock and daylight 

 showed no change, but a sea of mist and clouds 

 enveloping my camp, and so my hope of ibex 

 fled for that day. How the time dragged ! 

 Eleven o'clock saw my gun and rifles polished 



