We stalked, and raising our heads saw him immediately below us, not half a dozen paces off, in a hollow. I aimed to take him between the shoulders—off went the gun, and off went the bear, another shot striking him; then he disappeared. I pursued with Phuttoo—lost all traces, and turned, when we saw Subhan and Mooktoo in hot chase across a snowdrift bridging the stream, on which we soon detected the bloody tracks of the bear. Hopes were raised. The rocky, precipitous mountain side was difficult to surmount, but I had faith in Subhan, especially on a bloody trail.
Phuttoo and I, reconnoitring from below, espied the chase high up, crossing the side of the hill at a slow walk. We hailed the pursuing hunters, encouraging them in their efforts; saw them emerge, and enter faithfully on the trail. Then we moved further on, and again I viewed the chase higher up still, slowly making for a pine-clad crag where, from its appearance, I judged he would pull up. Anxiety now became extreme. The ground presented such difficulties, and I had lost sight of the hunters, who I feared might have given up the chase in despair. I sat in suspense, gazing upwards, and expressing hopes hardly entertained to Phuttoo, when crack! went a rifle, the whereabouts denoted by a small puff of smoke on the top of the crag mentioned. Now all was serene. I felt sure of victory: when another shot, resounding from a more distant spot, dimmed my bright hopes, and doubts again assailed me—another shot, hopes again brightened—an exclamation from an attendant behind, and the bear was seen clearly defined on the snow, in a ravine leading down from the crag, evidently dropping. Suddenly he rolled over, and simultaneously a shot rung out, and smoke appeared from above him. He slid down the snow: the hunters came in view following cautiously, and soon after we saw one discharge two shots at the prostrate, but still formidable brute. Then huge stones were cast at him, and he was pushed and hustled, till, getting way on, he came rolling and sliding on the snow to the bottom of the ravine; to which place we now made our way, and found our prey a monster for these parts, by far the largest bear I have seen here.
He was riddled with bullets; my first shot had entered between the shoulders, at the base of the neck, and came out at the belly: the second struck him well in the middle of the shoulder. Yet he went off as described, and was nearly lost, as many an one has been before. I returned very "koosh"—the shikarries, too, proud of this capture, and their share in it. The bear, they say, turned on them, and put them to flight. They are great cowards these men, as, I believe, all the Cashmiries are. Phuttoo, however, is an exception.
5th June. Again, up the valley some distance beyond yesterday's beat—some most likely places for game. We saw some ibex in an inaccessible place, and halted for the day.
At 2 P.M. we ascended, and gained a view of a fine stretch of open grassy slope beyond our halting place, where the valley makes a bend to the left. Here we stopped a couple of hours: nothing seen but a bear out of reach. We descended, and wended our way down valley.
A bear was seen: we went after him, and disturbed two bara sing hinds which were too knowing for us, so to our first attraction, whom we saw disporting himself on the snow which he cantered across. We were after him, when Subhan recoiled, saying there was another bear in the same spot just quitted by the first.
True enough—so after him; and I was crawling to a position about one hundred and twenty yards from him, when he twigged something wrong, and looked up. He cocked his ears, when I cocked the rifle, and fearing his flight I fired hurriedly, but hit him, I believe, well behind the shoulder. He started, and staggered—then came straight for us. I waited, prepared to give him second barrel. Passing a few paces above us on the side of the hill, he gave an angry roar as he cast a passing glance at us, and I gave him No. 2 somewhere in the ribs, whereat he winced, but rolled on his course and vanished, Mooktoo on his tracks, then the rest of us. But, sending Subhan to assist the former, Phuttoo and I went after the first bear on our homeward route, but saw nothing of him.
When a couple of miles or so from camp, a breathless villager met us, and said there was a bara sing down by the river, not far from camp. Much excited, he started off at a run. I made him walk, but talk, and that loudly, he would; and when he suddenly pointed out the bara sing in the valley below, he loudly proclaimed its presence. The animal was evidently attentive and alarmed; so an attempt we made to approach it was unsuccessful.
We made the bivouac; and from the prolonged absence of the two hunters we entertained delusive hopes that they had secured the wounded bear. But not so: they came in presently, having failed to get near the brute, which had betaken itself to a steep craggy height. I regret this loss much: he was a very large bear, of an unusually light colour, hair very long.