GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 201 



away while we were out of sight in the ravine below. 

 But I knew in my heart that it was all unnecessary. My 

 bullet had gone where I wanted it to go and that was 

 quite enough. No sheep that ever walked could live 

 with a Mannlicher ball squarely in its neck. 



When we finally descended, the animal lay halfway 

 down the slope, feebly kicking. What a huge brute he 

 was, and what a glorious head! I had never dreamed 

 that an argali could be so splendid. His horns were 

 perfect, and my hands could not meet around them at 

 the base. 



Then, of course, I wanted to know what had hap- 

 pened at my first shot. The evidence was there upon 

 his face. My bullet had gone an inch high, struck him 

 in the corner of the mouth, and emerged from his right 

 cheek. It must have been a painful wound, and I shall 

 never cease to wonder what strange impulse brought 

 him back after he had been so badly stung. The second 

 ball had been centered in the neck as though in the 

 bull's-eye of a target. 



The skin and head of the sheep made a pack weigh- 

 ing nearly one hundred pounds, and the old Mongol 

 groaned as he looked up at the mountain barriers which 

 separated us from camp. On the summit of the first 

 ridge we found the trail over which we had passed in 

 the morning. Half an hour later the hunter jerked 

 me violently behind a ledge of rock. "Pan-yang" he 

 whispered, "there, on the mountain side. Can't you see 

 him?" I could not, and he tried to point to it with my 

 rifle. Just at that instant what I had supposed to be a 



