Mooktoo came back, also unsuccessful. He had followed the track right down to the river at the foot of the mountain, where the thick shrubs and matted underwood frustrated any further attempt. In this heavy thicket, close to water, the stricken deer had doubtless taken refuge to die. Oh! for an Australian native, or a good hound! But these Cashmere hunters are wretched creatures on a trail.
I went down the slopes to listen. The stag before-noticed and others were again bellowing. I sat reading till Subhan called me, the coolies and whole party being on the way to the other place, and passing by me. I called attention to the fact of the certainty of game here, but Subhan said the place we were going to harboured more deer, and presented greater facilities for stalking, being more open and level, and the jungles so thin that if we heard a stag bellow we should certainly be able to approach and shoot him—and so forth. With great reluctance and serious misgivings I turned to leave this favourite haunt of the bara sing, where there could be no doubt of several harbouring, to proceed to one knew not what sort of place, notwithstanding the anticipations of the sanguine Subhan.
We had a tremendous pull up the mountain, from the summit of which was presented a magnificent panoramic view of the valley of Cashmere, of which the eye could embrace the greater extent. Down immediately below the spurs of this vast mountain lay smooth and glittering the Dal lake, not a ripple disturbing its mirror-like surface, the reflections of the small islands with their noble chunar trees only distinguishable from the realities by the inverted position. Across the lake was the city—a confusion of trees, water, and dimly seen buildings, shrouded in smoke and haze. It being mid-day, a glare and a haze obscured the distant features; through it, however, the opposite range of hills enclosing the valley, with its countless sunny peaks, was plainly defined. It was a glorious landscape. Nothing earthly, I should imagine, could surpass it.
Having gazed my fill, I thought of the shooting qualities of the new beat, and saw with disappointment that, though the slopes were extensive, they were very steep, and the ravines, though admirably adapted for coverts, were very rugged, precipitous, and inaccessible. There were probably many deer there, and we might see them; but to get at them, to cross from one slope to another, was out of the question. Many places, where deer had couched in the rank grass, were passed on the upper slopes, but still I felt a misgiving that we should do nothing there.
We turned off the ridge to the left, to our camp ground which overhung the valley we had come from. In the afternoon I went out to watch and listen, and heard a stag bellow. We got opposite his position, a ravine dividing us, when we were compelled to leave him as it was now dusk, and returned to camp with the understanding that we would beat up his quarters in the morning. I could hear the stags in the deep vale below, and regretted having given them up.
The night was very chill, and the forest damp with its dead leaves and decaying vegetation. But a rousing fire of dry fir spread a glow and warmth around. It is a delightful thing, a bright, crackling fire on a cold night in the forest. There are not many remaining for me to enjoy now, as to-morrow closes my hunting season: the next day is Sunday, and on Monday morning I must make tracks for Sirinuggur.
13th October. As previously agreed we were ready to start at earliest dawn, and on reaching the ravine, where we heard the stag last night, we stopped to listen. Ere long we were rewarded by the low bleat of a doe, which was once or twice repeated. Then came answering the hoarse cry of a stag. These animals would seem to be in some thick trees opposite us, across the ravine. Subhan, after a while, proposed that we should cross the head of the ravine to which we were close, and so reach the ridge over it, and above the deer, leaving Kamal and the guide who, when they saw us at a point determined, were to descend and move down the ravine; when, it was hoped, the deer alarmed would cross the ridge near us to enter another ravine. The plan was approved as the only one we could here adopt.
We put it in force and gained the ridge, along which Subhan was advancing, and passing a clear, open, grassy dell leading from the ravine in which were the deer, when Mooktoo, greatly excited, signalled the game: but at that very moment they became concealed by the fir trees fringing the ridge over which they went, and we arrived in time to see a fine stag and hind far below us in the bottom of the adjoining ravine. We now descended some distance, hoping to catch a sight of the deer—but in vain; and as it was, in all probability, useless to look for game elsewhere at this hour we resolved to take up our quarters here for the day, thus reserving the chance of the deer coming out to feed in the evening. I, therefore, selected a seat in the rocks under a bush—just space enough for me to sit in—and what with a fine fat wild-duck for breakfast, and my newspapers afterwards, contrived to pass the time without weariness.
About four o'clock we all roused ourselves to peer into the ravine, and Mooktoo soon detected a stag coming from under some trees. He, however, almost immediately passed from view downwards. Waiting some time without another glimpse of him, we moved upwards with the intention of trying to meet him, but found the sides of the hill so steep, and the dry herbage so noisy, that we thought it quite useless to proceed in that direction, so ascended to the top of the ridge, and moved along that downwards. Mooktoo and I went ahead of the others, and all took posts of observation. We two ere long saw a stag, in all probability that just seen. It appeared as though he would cross the ridge we were on far below us, so we hastened to intercept him. The ridge was sharp and rough, hardly giving space for the foot; but on we hastened, turning to the left as the ridge diverged at a right angle; now down some precipitous steps of rock, and we were over the dingle in which we had last observed the deer evidently making in this direction. We could not examine our side thoroughly from its roughness and extreme steepness. We could see nothing of the deer. Had he already crossed over? If so, he must have greatly quickened his pace. We went on a little, and then descended the slope a few yards to get a better view of the depths extending below us. Here I sat down, intending to await events, but Mooktoo urged me to go up again, and follow further on the ridge. We did so; but nothing could be seen of the deer. So, supposing he had in some manner given us the slip, we turned back, and were crossing the place where we first expected to meet him in his ascent, when little Sara, sniffing the air, all at once started off, taking short jumps into the air, and barking. Mooktoo ran after the dog, and in great excitement signalled the chase close at hand. The little dog gave tongue. I ran forward—but nothing was in sight. I paused for information, when from the bottom of the dell sounded the belling of the deer—a peculiar note, expressive, I fancy, of alarm and excitement. Only his head and back were visible above the high, thick fern. I hesitated to fire. He moved on up the opposite side, and as he paused, only showing his head and ridge of back, I fired. We thought him struck, as he drooped, and did not come in view for some seconds, when he was seen leisurely going off along the hill-side; but I believe the dip of the ground deceived us. There vanished my last chance of a bara sing. Sad, very sad, we wended our way back to camp, our last day's sport ended so unluckily.