CHAPTER VIIL 

 THAR. 



THIS game is not so much followed as it deserves, for, although its 

 horns are not grand, it inhabits magnificent portions of the hills, and can 

 be reached from many stations on the short leave, which is often wasted 

 there. 



The usual habitat is much the same as that of the markhor, but there 

 are varieties of ground, from dense ringall- jungle to steep broken cliffs, 

 and good practice at mountain climbing may be had by the tyro, before he 

 tackles the more valuable game in another year. 



The best thar head I ever saw or heard of measured only 15in. in the 

 horns, but the grand ruff on the throat and neck rendered the trophy one 

 to be proud of, and I am sure no sportsman would have despised it. 



I was once on my way up to some ground near where this head had 

 been shot, and as my men toiled along ahead of me I saw them all begin 

 to totter, and I myself nearly fell, for an earthquake came on, the hills 

 rocking and rumbling in a most awful manner. Nothing happened, and 

 we reached the camp-ground all right. Next morning I was out at 

 dawn on the head of some cliffs, and as the fog rolled away I had a 

 wonderful panorama spread before me. Yalleys, rivers, villages, forests 

 at my feet, ending with a hill-station in the blue distance ; while to my 

 left rose the peaks of eternal snows, still white, but riven with the flow of 

 the summer's melting. Crossing over the rocks, we could see a steep 

 slope far below, and, after a careful scrutiny, descried some thar, but none 

 good enough to tempt a stalk. We watched them for some time, to make 

 sure no big male was amongst them, and then moved away to try some of 

 the marvellous gorges or corries that cut into the cliffs. My man left me 

 and disappeared over the edge for a few minutes to spy out the land 

 alone. 



He soon returned with tidings of three big males in a corrie ; so I 

 joined him, and we descended step by step down the face of the rocks for 

 some hundred feet, when he turned me to the right along a ledge, and 

 finally pointed to where he said the game was. A little herbage concealed 

 'us, but after a good quarter of an hour hunt I could discern nothing, even 

 with the glasses, and the spot he pointed to was not a hundred yards 

 away. The sun was in my eyes, certainly, but I could see the side of the 

 corrie covered with a small shrub (some kind of bilberry), and nothing 

 like game of any sort could I detect. I crawled round a little to the 

 left, and peered over the edge of the rock, but, even with his finger before 

 my eye, there was nothing I could identify. I began to think there was 



