5 2 Sport and Life in the Further Himalaya 



face radiant and his glasses waved about his 

 head. 



" Margya, Sahib, margya!" (He's dead, Sahib, 

 he's dead ! ) he shouted, and plunged down the 

 snow slope, taking enormous leaps. It was a bad 

 and dangerous journey to that juniper-tree under 

 which the markhor lay dead, but I got over the 

 ground in a dream. The markhor was shot through 

 the heart, and had fallen stone-dead near the tree 

 under which I had seen him plunge in his death 

 run. A lucky shot indeed ! Gul Sher passed his 

 hands over the gigantic horns. Seven spans, which 

 the tape at home afterwards showed us to be fifty- 

 five inches. 



" Ah, Sahib," the old man said as we sat down to 

 talk it over, " my face has been black this month 

 past, but now it is red ! " 



