The Stories of Two Ibex 3 1 



We were playing golf one evening on the links 

 round our camp, certainly the highest though 

 not the worst course in the world, when Gul 

 Sher, who had been roaming about with tele- 

 scope and binoculars, turned up and took my 

 clubs. 



Gul Sher was a character, and should have been 

 born a Scotchman, although, loth as I am to confess 

 evil of him, he did not appreciate golf. The end 

 in view seemed to him so disproportionate with 

 the pains taken in attaining it. All the same he 

 used frequently to carry my clubs, and did not 

 hesitate to criticise freely, but he would not drop 

 the language of the rifle. When we topped a ball 

 we were told we had " gone high," and when we 

 dug into the ground we were told to take a " finer 

 sight " ; but the absence of a second barrel, after 

 some such a contretemps, always seemed to him an 

 unredeemable blot on the game. 



As we were going round, he gradually allowed it 

 to become apparent that he had seen a real mon- 

 ster ibex among the high crags known as Kine- 

 chuch, that overhung the valley six or seven miles 

 below our camp. He was an ibex of great age, his 

 winter coat not yet shed, and with horns not less 

 than six spans in length. Gul Sher had seen him 

 one day, but he had been gone the next ; his re- 

 treat, however, was one to which he would be 



