286 Sport and Life in the Further Himalaya 



cracked sent our hearts into our mouths ; once we 

 went down twenty feet in a rush with a small 

 avalanche of snow. Over a ridge and across 

 another gully, up another ridge, and we hoped to 

 be within shot of our quarry. Slowly we raised 

 our heads. Nothing. Too high up. Back we 

 crawled and repeated the manoeuvre lower down. 

 A dark mass is visible through some undergrowth, 

 about seventy yards away. We move a few yards 

 to get a clearer view. A stag lying down, his 

 antlers almost concealed among the branches. I 

 take a good look through my glasses. "See if 

 that's the one," I whisper ; " he seems to me more 

 like the small one." The shikari puts the glasses 

 to his eyes and looks long and carefully. As he is 

 looking the stag sharply turns his head. " That's 

 the one, sahib ; take him ! " I rest the rifle against 

 a tree, aim at the middle of the brown, and fire. 

 The stag springs to his feet, takes a few convulsive 

 bounds, and falls. Mine at last ! 



Knife in hand, the shikari plunges down the 

 intervening gully and up the opposite side to per- 

 form the hallal. I stand up, a pleasant relief after 

 being on all-fours the best part of two hours, 

 and begin putting the rifle in its cover. A shout 

 comes from the stalker, and I note an absence 

 of joy in it. Something wrong ? 



"What?" I yell. 



