The Stories of Two Ibex 37 



the forests below. We got back to camp when 

 it was pitch-dark, as sick and disgusted as we 

 could well be. 



That ibex did not return to his haunt the next 

 day; nor, hunt high, hunt low, as we did for 

 many days afterwards, did he ever once appear 

 to me again, except in my dreams. 



It is as well to be philosophic over one's shikar 

 as in other things, and in a little Persian proverb 

 I sometimes call to mind is embodied a deal of 

 philosophy. It runs 



Agar shabha hamah shab i kadr budi 

 Shab i kadr be kadr budi : 



" If every night was the ' night of miracles,' the 

 * night of miracles ' would cease to be miraculous," 

 and might be freely rendered, " If you could shoot 

 an enormous ibex every day of your life, enormous 

 ibex would no longer be worth the shooting." But 

 as regards this particular beast, the proverb has 

 not had its wonted efficacy, for I shall always 

 regret his loss. 



That same season I lost, by no fault of my 

 own, a markhor which would have been the second 

 finest I have ever shot. I got his " brother " out 

 of the same herd, a distinctly smaller beast, which 

 measured fifty-two inches. A deal used to be said 



