The little chaps were as playful as kittens and the story of their amusing ways as they grew older is a book in itself. After a month one of the cubs died, leaving great sorrow in the camp; the other not only lived and flourished but traveled more than 16,000 miles.
He went with us on a pack mule to Bhamo, down the Irawadi River to Rangoon, and across the Bay of Bengal to Calcutta. He then visited many cities in India, and at Bombay boarded the P. & O. S. S. Namur for Hongkong and became the pet of the ship. From China we took him to Japan, across the Pacific to Vancouver, and finally to our home at Lawrence Park, Bronxville, New York. After an adventurous career as a house pet, when his exploits had made him famous and ourselves disliked by all the neighbors, we regretfully sent him to the National Zoölogical Park, Washington, D. C, where he is living happily at the present time. He was the most delightful little pet we have ever owned and, although now he is nearly a full grown bear, his early life is perpetuated in motion pictures and we can see him still as he came to us the first week. He might well have been the model for the original "Teddy Bear" for he was a round ball of fur, mostly head and ears and sparkling little eyes.
CHAPTER XXXVI
A BIG GAME PARADISE
A few months previous to our arrival, Mr. Abertsen had discovered a splendid hunting ground near the village of Hui-yao, about eighty li from Teng-yueh. He had been shooting rabbits and pheasants and, while passing through the village, the natives told him that a large herd of gnai-yang or "wild goats" lived on the side of a hill through which a branch of the Shweli River had cut a deep gorge.
Although Abertsen was decidedly skeptical as to the accuracy of the report he spent two days hunting and with his shotgun killed two gorals; moreover, he saw twenty-five others. We examined the two skins and realized at once that they represented a different species from those of the Snow Mountain. Therefore, when we left Teng-yueh our first camp was at Hui-yao.
Heller and I started with four natives shortly after daylight. We crossed a tumble-down wooden bridge over the river at a narrow cañon where the sides were straight walls of rock, and followed down the gorge for about two miles. On the way Heller, who was in front, saw two muntjac standing in the grass on an open hillside, and shot the leader. The deer pitched headlong but got to its feet in a few moments and struggled off into the thick cover at the edge of the meadow. It had disappeared before Heller reached the clearing but he saw the second deer, a fine doe, standing on a rock. Although his bullet passed through both lungs the animal ran a quarter of a mile, and he finally discovered her several hours later in the bushes beside the river.
In a short time we reached an open hillside which rose six or seven hundred feet above the river in a steep slope; the opposite side was a sheer wall of rock bordered on the rim by an open pine forest. We separated at this point. Heller, with two natives, keeping near the river, while I climbed up the hill to work along the cliffs half way to the summit.
In less than ten minutes Heller heard a loud snort and, looking up, saw three gorals standing on a ledge seventy-five yards above him. He fired twice but missed and the animals disappeared around a corner of the hill. A few hundred yards farther on he saw a single old ram but his two shots apparently had no effect.
Meanwhile I had continued along the hillside not far from the summit for a mile or more without seeing an animal. Fresh tracks were everywhere and well-cut trails crossed and recrossed among the rocks and grass. I had reached an impassable precipice and was returning across a steep slope when seven gorals jumped out of the grass where they had been lying asleep. I was in a thick grove of pine trees and fired twice in quick succession as the animals appeared through the branches, but missed both times.