Back to camp:—Subhan and Mooktoo remaining unusually late at the fire, I went out, and they told me they had a proposal to make, viz. to leave me and Phuttoo to cast bullets in the morning, while they tried to find the wounded bear. I accepted readily this suggestion.
1st June. We converted all the lead into bullets before breakfast. I was reading the papers, when Subhan popped his head into the tent, and gave me the welcome intelligence, that they had brought back the skin of the bear, having tracked him high up the hill, where he was found under a rock, and he made a charge at them: they, however, killed him. My shot had entered immediately behind the left shoulder, passed through the body, and out behind the right shoulder. Yet he went off as described; and would have been lost, as many others have been, had he not been thus tracked up. It is wonderful what they carry away.
By advice of the shikarries I resolved to move to-morrow down to Goombrah, now evacuated by t'other hunter, who is said to have killed only two or three bears there, and not to have climbed the hills at all; so, as ibex are said to be tolerably numerous among the mountain summits, I may have a chance of getting a shot at those much-prized animals—but I quite dread the work.
2nd June. I was informed by Phuttoo at an early hour, that it was raining and cloudy, so countermanded the move for the present, hoping that the day might clear.
At 1 P.M. the weather mended; the clouds broke, the sun appeared, and we thought we were sure of a fine afternoon. I struck tent, packed up and started all the things, remaining myself behind for an hour or two, for the chance of a meeting with Bruin.
We were miserably deceived in the weather; black clouds rolled up, thunder crashed overhead, and down descended the rain in torrents. We waited some time under shelter for a lull; then set forth, soon to experience a down-pour as heavy as ever. We trudged grimly through it. Having crossed the river, we saw an old and two young bears on the side we had left—soon after, another on the same side. We could not retrace our steps in such weather—all the hunt washed out of us.
We arrived at our new bivouac, draggled and wet—found the tent just up, but nothing yet in it—got under the eaves of a house, and patiently abided the announcement of the tent being ready; then changed clothes, had a roaring fire lit close to my tent, and made a hearty dinner. The night bitterly cold.
3rd June. Sunday. The ground was white with snow, there having been a considerable fall during the night.
I strolled up the narrow valley, which is similar to that of Kuzuznai, leading from the Wurdwan in an easterly direction—a brawling stream dashing down it, the mountains steep, and their lower portions covered with pines on the southern side; more accessible, bare, and open, on the north. I enjoyed a delightful stroll. The sunlit features of the romantic scenery, bright and glowing, though wintry, harmonizing with my feelings, suggested a happy train of meditation which accompanied me back to my tent.