It is supposed by the shikarries that a pack of wild dogs, whose tracks we found in the snow following on those of ibex, had driven those animals away.
22nd May. A long march up the Wurdwan. We passed Busman on the left-bank, crossed the river by a bridge at Goombrah—at which village my sporting rival of the 79th had bivouacked—and moved along the bank to a small village. We saw three bears feeding on a hill-side across the river. It was decided to stop here, and try to get these bears: so we halted. But Phuttoo failing to persuade the villagers to rebuild a bridge which had been washed away, and being unable to cross the river at any place nearer, we continued our route to our previous destination, Shugkenuz.
The road lay along the bank of the river which had fallen in, so that we experienced much difficulty in getting on, the steep inaccessible hill precluding all chance of a route higher up: so, hanging on how we might, we scrambled across the face of the landslip, the rapid river rushing roaring below, and luckily without mishap reached and crossed a bridge, and on to the village, which is prettily situated—the bivouac charming.
A mountain path from Palgham enters the Wurdwan here, but is impracticable now for all but mountaineers. We rested some hours; then went off to beat up the quarters of the three bears we had seen from the opposite side when on the march. We sighted our three acquaintances high up on a rock; prepared to meet them on the slope we supposed they would descend to; had a difficult, fatiguing climb. At last we gained a ridge from which the game was visible, all three feeding, distance about one hundred yards. I wished to wait for a chance of their coming nearer; but Subhan urged me to fire at once, and the largest bear, mother of the other two, I suppose, then looking up, I fired and hit her somewhere in front. Great confusion and discomfiture ensued. I fired and hit another, and discharged my other barrels as they slowly retreated; but, not being able to pursue from the difficulty of the ground, saw my wounded prey gradually disappear up the hill, just able to crawl away.
I returned to camp, weary and lame. Regretting much wounding poor brutes thus, to escape only to die in agonies, I made some half-resolutions to give up shooting.
Leg very bad, but not worse, I went to bed lamenting my ill success.
[CHAPTER V.]
SHIKAR IN THE WURDWAN.
23rd May. Ere thoroughly awakened this morning, I enjoyed pleasing fancies in a confused doze, under the influence of the soft notes of a cuckoo perched on a tree immediately over my head, whence he sweetly serenaded me, or rather treated me to a morning solo; which, though a monotonous performance, touched many a sympathetic and vibrating chord within, creating delicious harmonies, recalling old memories—the open window, dewy mornings, fresh summer-perfumed air, the welcome ringing of old Jonas' sharpening scythe, which operation has a remarkable charm for me, I suppose as essentially characteristic of summer seasons, and associated with the inhaled fragrance of new-mown hay, added to many a mingled note of thrush, linnet, and blackbird and other feathered songsters.