My own shooting in Mongolia and Tibet has always been under difficulties. Traveling without European companions, and my Asiatic one not knowing how to handle our firearms, I have been able to give but little time to sport. When pressed for food, however, I have killed yaks, asses, argali, mountain sheep and antelope; I have also bagged a few bears and leopards; but, as my only rifle was rather for purposes of defense than for shooting game, I never went much out of my way to look up these animals, though I felt great confidence in my good little Winchester, having killed the largest yak I ever shot at, and a fine bear, each with one shot from it.
The game I mostly shot while in Tibet was yak; but, as I never killed any save for meat—not believing in the theory of destroying animal life for the sake of trophies to hang upon the wall—I made no phenomenal bags, though big game was so plentiful in many sections of the country that even with a native match-lock it would have been possible to have killed many more animals than I did.
The yak I approached at first with considerable trepidation, as I had read in various books of their savageness and of the danger that the hunter was exposed to from one of these big animals when wounded; but now I am wiser, and I can reassure those who would kill these big beasts; they look more dangerous than they really are, and will hardly ever push their charge home, even when badly wounded. The first time I saw them we were traveling up a rather open valley beside a frozen rivulet, where, upon reaching the top of a little swell, some six or eight hundred yards off, were a couple of hundred yaks coming down toward the stream to try and find a water hole. I made signs to the men behind me to stop, and, jumping from my horse, I crawled along to within about 200 yards of them, when I blazed away at the biggest I could pick out, standing a little nearer to me than the rest of the herd. They paid hardly any attention to the slight report of my rifle; only the one at which I shot advanced a short distance in the direction of the smoke and then stopped, waving his great bushy tail over his back and holding his head erect. I fired again, when he and the rest of the herd turned and ran on to the ice, where I opened fire on them once more. They seemed puzzled by the noise, but my bullets did not seem to harm them. Finally one charged and then another, and at last the whole herd came dashing up in my direction; but "I lay very low," especially as at this seemingly critical moment I found that I had no more cartridges in my gun. After awhile they turned and trotted back to the river, and I made for my horse, much disappointed at my apparent failure to do any of them any injury.
ELAPHURUS DAVIDIANUS.
In the meantime my men had pushed on about half a mile, and we stopped in a little nook to take a cup of tea. Having here supplied myself with cartridges, I thought I would try to get another shot at the yaks, some of which I could still see on the mountain side beyond the stream. My delight was great when, coming up to the place where I had last seen them, a big bull was lying dead, shot through the heart.
The only time I ever encountered a solitary bull he bluffed us so completely that I do not know but my reputation as a sportsman will suffer materially by mentioning the incident. One day, as we were rounding the corner of a hill, we saw an immense fellow, not 200 yards off; and my two big mastiffs, which by this time were getting hardly any food—as our stock of provisions was running very short, and who passed most of their time while we were on the march vainly chasing hares, marmots and any other animals they could see—made a dash for the yak and commenced snapping at him. He trotted slowly off, but soon, becoming angry, turned on the dogs, who came back to the caravan. He followed them until within twenty yards of us. All my recollections of the dangers encountered by Prjevalsky with yaks, all his remarks of the extraordinary thickness and impenetrability of their skulls, of the difficulty of killing these monstrous animals, and of their ferociousness when wounded, came vividly to my mind in an instant. I saw my mules and horses gored and bleeding on the ground, my expedition brought to an untimely end, and a wounded yak waving his tail triumphantly over us, for I was certain that with my light Winchester I could never drop him dead in his tracks. We did not even dare so much as look at him, but kept on our way, and the yak walked beside us, evidently rejoicing in his victory. The dogs, now thoroughly cowed, took refuge on the side of the caravan furthest from the infuriated animal, and so we marched on for about half a mile, when, in utter disgust, he turned and trotted off to the
hillside where he stood watching us, his bushy tail stretched out as stiff as iron behind him, pawing the ground, and thus we left him.
Shooting wild asses was much tamer business. We saw them sometimes in herds of five or six hundred. They would mix with our mules even when grazing around the camp, and often took them off five or six miles, when we had great difficulty in getting them back. We frequently, however, killed one for meat, which we found to be very savory; though most of my men, who were Mahomedans, would only eat it when very hard pushed by hunger, as their religion forbade them to eat the flesh of any animal without cloven hoofs. I always felt, however, in shooting these animals, as if I were destroying a domestic mule, and could never bring myself to look upon them as fit game for a sportsman. This was strongly impressed upon me one day when, desiring to get a fine specimen, whose skin and bones I could bring back for the National Museum, I shot a very large jack which was grazing some distance from our line of march, and broke its hind legs, and was then obliged to go up to the poor beast and put a ball into its head. After accomplishing this disagreeable duty in the interest of science—though to no purpose, as it turned out, for I was obliged to throw away the skin and bones a few days after, because I had no means of transporting them—I made a solemn promise to myself that I would never shoot a kyang again; and, I am pleased to say, I broke my promise but twice, and then I did so only to give us food, of which we stood in great need.