GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 197 



9, bowlder, giving me time for only a hurried shot at the 

 last one's white rump-patch. The bullet struck a few 

 inches behind the ram, and the valley was empty. 



Looking down where they had been so quietly feed- 

 ing only a few moments before, I called myself all 

 known varieties of a fool. I felt very bad indeed that I 

 had bungled hopelessly my first chance at an argali. 

 But the sympathetic old hunter patted me on the shoul- 

 der and said in Chinese, "Never mind. They were small 

 ones anyway — ^not worth having." They were very 

 much worth having to me, however, and all the light 

 seemed to have gone out of the world. We smoked a 

 cigarette, but there was no consolation in that, and I 

 followed the hunter aroimd the peak with a heart as 

 heavy as lead. 



Half an hour later we sat down for a look around. 

 I studied every ridge and gully with my glasses with- 

 out seeing a sign of life. The four sheep had disap- 

 peared as completely as though one of the yawning ra- 

 vines had swallowed them up; the great valley bathed 

 in golden sunlight was deserted and as silent as the 

 tomb. 



I was just tearing the wrapper from a piece of choco- 

 late when the hunter touched me on the arm and said 

 quietly, "Pan-yang li la" (A sheep has come). He 

 pointed far down a ridge running out at a right angle 

 to the one on which we were sitting, but I could see 

 nothing. Then I scanned every square inch of rock, 

 but still saw no sign of life. 



The hunter laughingly whispered, "I can see better 



