Again the stalk was resumed with all guile and subtlety: but, in spite of every precaution, in such extremely difficult and dangerous ground some sounds would arise—a stone loosened, rolling down &c.—though we were well out of sight, nor on the same slope. We at last reached the crest of a slope, on the other side of which were the ibex within easy range, as was supposed. Cautiously, rifles ready, we slowly raised our heads to sight the intended victims—higher and higher, this side and that—but only a blank.
Deep sighs of disappointment were audible. Every height was scrutinized, every hollow peered into, before the sad reality was fully admitted, that our prey had escaped, and without leaving a clue to their mode of exit. We sat disconsolate, and while wistfully gazing about saw a string of nine ibex calmly pursuing their way, taking a bite here and there on a mountain side opposite. Soon after, four or five cross a ravine on the snow far up above us; which I believe to have been the identical animals we were in search of, who had completely outwitted us, and gained an inaccessible refuge without our detecting them stealing away—so closely had we kept our concealment.
It was not the most satisfactory prospect having to return and descend, every step risking life or limb. We had to reclimb the summit, and again descend, the path full of peril as before. When halfway, two young ibex were disturbed, and I ineffectually fired every barrel I had, as they bounded away. The suddenness of their appearance, and the nature of the ground giving me no footing, made my chances 'nil.'
I got back weary, and had unfortunately reproduced an old injury by my slips and strenuous efforts to keep my footing, a large lump from some overtaxed muscle having formed immediately behind my right knee, giving no acute pain, but a sense of diminished strength, and a sensation that it would become worse.
20th May. Sunday. After breakfast, a lad, one of the valley, who accompanied us yesterday, found his way to me when unobserved by the shikarries, and criticised their method of approaching game, of which he disapproved. Having observed him to be active and intelligent, and knowing that he had been hunting with officers, I talked with him, and finally arranged for another attempt on the ibex, he leading and to have the entire control and management of the arrangements. He was much gratified. Anticipating jealousy, and, perhaps, obstruction on the part of my shikarries, I assembled them, and put the matter in such a light that they entered into the plan with perfect good humour.
21st May. Away under the auspices of the ambitious young Kamal to the same mountain, to ascend by the same route. Ere reaching the base, we observed three ibex on a snowy crest, I believe keeping watch and ward. We had not ascended far, when Kamal, all ardour and vigilance, leading the way, stopped suddenly, and announced ibex in sight, and near at hand. We prepared to attack. Leaving one of our number at this place, we set to work to climb, the ordinary difficulties being greatly augmented by a quantity of hail lying on the surface, and by a frost having made the grass, which had been wet with rain or melted snow, terribly slippery.
As I toiled and struggled in agonies of partial suffocation from my exertions up the steep, a bear was reported in sight. I did not take notice of the ignoble beast, being then in hot chase of the much-coveted ibex, but was suddenly startled by a fierce growl, and saw Bruin rushing by, within a few yards. But I would not have fired in the attitude I was in, had the rifle been in my hand. We shortly got sight of an ibex on the look-out, on a prominent point affording a good view around. We lay still some time: the ibex fed, then quietly walked out of sight; when believing it was all as we could wish, we made what speed we could up the mountain to the look-out place of the sentinel. We could thence see nothing: so ascended higher, on to a place where the game must be, had they not taken alarm and fled. Every probable place was examined—but no occupants. At last we saw nine ibex on the summit of an adjoining eminence, far out of reach, and they leisurely making their retreat still further. Whether the beast of a bear had given the alarm, we could not tell.
We descended, and took our former route. A small goat-like deer, called a 'kustoora,' was seen. We stalked up to within eighty yards, the animal up above and looking down. I changed my rifle for one carried by Mooktoo, the right barrel of which he had loaded this morning, so I thought it was sure to go off: the other had been loaded since Saturday. I aimed steadily—the cap only exploded—the animal bounded off, stopped, and gazed: I pulled the other trigger, when the powder went off hissing, fizzing, and smoking like a squib, and the bullet dropped about a yard from the muzzle. I suppose some snow had got into it. This was a dreadful disappointment.
After breakfast we proceeded up among the snowy summits: we saw nothing, lay down, and went to sleep. Then on again to another point, and again stopped for observations: then we began to descend, pausing here and there, but not a vestige of an ibex to be seen: all had vanished, I scanned every possible spot with the glass, but saw none, so gave up all hopes of ibex, and later in the day descended to look for bears on the lower slopes.
Kamal, away on the left, made signs of game, an old and a young bear down in a deep hollow. I got into position, and fired down, wounding the old bear: fired all my remaining barrels as she made off: then loaded, and off in pursuit—rugged ground, and two deep awkward ravines to cross. At last we sighted the chase, slowly crawling ahead, but a difficult ravine between us. We crossed it, and up the hill to intercept Bruin, but paused on the brink of a precipitous and impassable ravine. Subhan's keen eyes detected the bear pausing on a ledge, partially concealed by a bush. She half-turned to look back on her pursuers, when a ball struck her, and she toppled over, rolling down the hill-side. We had to make a considerable detour to get to her:—looked for others in vain, so returned to camp.