92 Sport and Life in the Further Himalaya 



rock crop out of the tumbled mass of loose stones. 

 The bottom of the valley is terraced for cultiva- 

 tion, and to one side stands a village, half con- 

 cealed in an orchard of bare mulberry and apricot 

 trees. The prevailing colour below the snow is 

 kharJci, for the blue river has cut for itself a 

 deep gorge in the alluvium, and runs out of sight 

 at the bottom of perpendicular cliffs. During the 

 night the chakor have come down into the bare 

 fields, and long before light their shrill, gamey 

 call is echoing over the valley. Our sportsman, 

 who, let us assume, is a glutton at hard work, 

 is on the spot at dawn, with his man behind him 

 carrying his cartridges. The fields are bare as 

 the palm of his hand, and as he tops the stone 

 wall bounding the village cultivation he sees a 

 large covey of chakor scuttling along underneath 

 a terrace wall not a hundred yards ahead of him. 

 As they drop down into the next field out of sight, 

 he walks quickly forward, hoping to approach the 

 birds unseen and flush them ; but as he does so, 

 they one by one flutter up on to the next terrace, 

 and race across at an incredible pace towards the 

 hill. Doubling back, our sportsman breaks into 

 a trot to cut them off, having to surmount the 

 six-foot walls of several terraces en route. He 

 partially succeeds, and the birds get up, not 

 quite where he expected (they never do that !), 



