178 THE GREAT THIBETAN SHEEP, OR NYAN. 



The ram's breasting this steep hill was a bad sign ; but on the other hand, the fact of his 

 having left the others was a good one. He went up slowly and painfully, constantly stopping 

 for a few minutes, but before he reached the summit he had been rejoined by his companions, 

 and all crossed the hill together. 



It was now nearly dusk : I was about seven miles from camp, with a tremendous hill 

 to cross : I was not prepared to bivouac : so I had to relinquish the chase and make the 

 best of my way home. It was a bitterly cold night ; a howling wind seemed to pierce through 

 and through me, while frequently my progress was interfered with by passing snowstorms. 

 After a long weary trudge, the glimmer of the lights from my tent was indeed welcome, 

 as it showed that I had only a few hundred yards to go ; and in a few minutes I was 

 enjoying the luxury of a huge bowl of hot tea. 



Those who have never undergone much hard work and exposure to weather, cannot 

 really appreciate the blessings of tea. That it is the most suitable of all beverages for an 

 inclement climate, is, I think, pretty well proved by the fact that the Thibetans (who, after 

 the Esquimaux, are perhaps more exposed to the rigor of cold than any other nation) 

 invariably drink tea on every opportunity. A Thibetan horseman, on a long journey, will 

 probably make two or three halts during the day, and at each place, while his pony picks 

 up a scanty meal, a bundle of dry roots, or a heap of the droppings of the Yak will be 

 collected, and the copper pot filled, perhaps with snow, for the preparation of the cheering 

 cup. I do not think that the Thibetan's 5 o'clock tea would be much appreciated in a 

 London drawing-room, for he makes it after a fashion peculiar to himself, with salt and 

 rancid butter, with the addition of barley meal or even meat if procurable ! If well made 

 with fresh butter it is not so bad as it sounds. The best I ever tasted was on an occasion 

 when I had the honor of dining with the Raja of Sikkim. 



The wounded ram was too great a prize to relinquish without making every effort to 

 obtain it ; so, early on the following morning, I ordered my camp to be moved to the valley 

 where I had found the ram, and made the best of my way to where I had left the track the 

 night before. 



At first I found but little blood on the track, but after following it three or four miles, 

 the blood became more plentiful, and my hopes accordingly rose. It soon became scarcer 

 however, and at length entirely ceased, and after a fruitless chase of many miles, which led 

 me back close to my camp, I at length gave up the pursuit as useless. Twice I found that 

 the rams had lain down, but there was but little blood at either place, and it is clear that 

 the wound must have been merely a superficial one. 



The next day I again hunted for the rams, but without success, and as my leave was 

 drawing to a close, I had to leave the ground without another chance of getting a big 

 head. 



The following year found me back in my old haunts about a month earlier in the season, 

 and with my knowledge of the ground I anticipated great sport. Unfortunately, however, 

 another sportsman had been before me, and although he had killed nothing, he had disturbed 

 the game a good deal. 



