1 68 THE BURRELL. 



easily to the tired hunter, and no dreams disturbed my rest until my servant announced that it 

 was near dawn and time to get up. Hastily dressing, I made a very substantial breakfast, and, 

 accompanied by my Shikari, shortly afterwards commenced the ascent of the hill. The night 

 was foggy ; not a star was to be seen, and my watch was Jiors de combat ; but I never doubted 

 that daylight would presently appear, and patiently and slowly plodded upwards. We must 

 have walked for nearly two hours, and not a glimmer of light was yet visible, when the hiss of 

 a Musk Deer was heard close to us. I lay down and waited, momentarily expecting day to 

 break, and at last, my patience being exhausted, I rolled myself in my blanket and went 

 to sleep. I had actually awoke and breakfasted about midnight, without discovering my 

 mistake ! a fact which speaks volumes for the healthy appetite produced by hard work in a 

 salubrious climate. 



When my Shikari at length again aroused me, morning had really arrived, and we con- 

 tinued our journey ; but we were not repaid for our loss of rest, for I failed to get a shot at the 

 only male Burrell which I saw throughout the day ; a herd of females and young ones having 

 spoiled my stalk. The clouds soon rolled up and obscured everything from view, and I 

 returned to camp empty handed. 



In 1869, I was hunting, principally for Nyan, on the high tableland to the west of Hanle 

 in Ladak. 



The plateau is remarkable for two or three small lakes, which are probably among the 

 most elevated sheets of wat£r in the world, being at least 17,000 feet above the level of the 

 sea. The steep sides of this tableland are furrowed by ravines, some of them containing 

 small springs of water, on the margin of which are little patches of verdure. 



I had reconnoitred a number of these ravines without seeing game, when a blinding snow- 

 storm came on, accompanied by a bitterly cold wind. I was begining to think of returning to 

 camp, when a man whom I had sent to a little distance to explore a small valley came back 

 with the news that he had seen Burrell. From my limited knowledge of the Thibetan language 

 I was unable to understand exactly where they were, but going in the direction pointed out, I 

 descended in search of them. 



Presently, through the driving snow-flakes, I caught sight of the Burrell lying down under 

 a ridge of rock about a hundred yards off. I was in full view of them, and on my sitting down 

 to fire, they all rose up. Selecting the finest male, I fired at his shoulder as he stood with his 

 broadside to me, but he turned round and dashed down the hill with the rest of the herd, who 

 did not give me a chance for my second barrel. 



I ran after them, but they crossed the rocky ridge, and, being favored by a dip in the 

 ground, disappeared from view. I knew that I had not missed, and, about fifty yards beyond the 

 ridge, I found the Burrell I had fired at lying stone-dead, the bullet having struck him just 

 behind the shoulder. On cutting him up, I found that my bullet, a 12-bore one, had shattered 

 his heart to atoms, and yet he had been able to gallop about a hundred yards before 

 falling. 



One can imagine an animal being struck in full career, and being carried on by his own 

 impetus for a certain distance ; but here was an instance of a beast being hit when standing 



