travellers. All three were hungry--hungry as wolves--and the ruling
thought at the moment was to find the means for satisfying their
appetites.
With this intent, therefore, they strode forward out of the gap, and
commenced descending towards the bottom of the valley.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
GRUNTING OXEN.
There were several kinds of animals in sight, but it was natural that
the hungry hunters should choose those that were nearest for their game.
The nearest also chanced to be the largest--though in the flock there
were individuals of different sizes, from the bigness of a large ox to
that of a Newfoundland dog. There were about a dozen in all, evidently
of one kind, and the difference in size and other respects arose from a
difference of age and sex.
What sort of animals they were, not one of the party could tell. Even
Ossaroo did not know them. He had never seen such creatures on the
plains of India. It was evident to all, however, that they were some
species of oxen or buffaloes, since they bore a general resemblance to
animals of the family of _bovidae_. First there was the great massive
bull, the patriarch of the herd, standing nearly as tall as a horse, and
quite as tall reckoning from the top of the stately hump on his
shoulders. His curved horns spreading outward rose from a mass of thick
curled hair, giving him the fierce aspect which characterises animals of
the buffalo kind. But his chief peculiarity lay in the drapery of long
silky hair, that from his sides, flanks, neck, belly, and thighs, hung
downward until its tips almost dragged upon the grass. This singular
appendage gave the animal the appearance of being short-legged, and the
massive thickness of the legs themselves added to the effect.
Karl could not help remarking in the old bull a considerable resemblance
to the rare musk-ox of America; an animal with which he was acquainted,
from having seen stuffed specimens in the museums. He noted, however,
that there was one point in which the musk-ox differed essentially from
the species before him--in regard to the fail. The musk-ox is almost
tailless; or, rather, his fail is so small as to be quite inconspicuous
amidst the long masses of hair that adorn his croup; whereas the strange
creature before them was remarkable for the large development of this
appendage, which swept downward, full and wide, like the tail of a
horse. The colour of the bull's body appeared black in the distance,
though, in reality, it was not black, but of a dark, chocolate brown;
the tail, on the contrary, was snow-white, which, from this contrast in
colour, added to the singularity of the animal's appearance.
There was but one large bull in the herd; evidently the lord and master
of all the others. These consisted of the females or cows, and the
young. The cows were much smaller, scarce half the size of the old
bull; their horns less massive, and the tails and long hair less full
and flowing.
Of the young, there were some of different ages; from the half-grown
bull or heifer, to the calves lately dropped; which last were tearing
about over the ground, and gambolling by the feet of their mothers.
About these little creatures there was a peculiarity. The long hair
upon their flanks and sides had not yet made its appearance; but their
whole coat was black and curly, just like that of a water-spaniel, or
Newfoundland dog. In the distance, they bore a striking resemblance to
these animals; and one might have fancied the herd to be a flock of
buffaloes, with a number of black dogs running about in their midst.
"Whatever they be," remarked Caspar, "they look like they might be
eatable. I think they're beef of some kind."
"Beef, venison, or mutton--one of the three," rejoined Karl.
Ossaroo was not particular at that moment. He could have picked a rib
of wolf-meat, and thought it palatable.
"Well, we must stalk them," continued Karl. "I see no other way of
getting near them but by crawling through yonder copse."
The speaker pointed to a grove, near which the animals were browsing.
Caspar and Ossaroo agreed with this suggestion, and all three, having
now reached the bottom of the descent, commenced their stalk.
Without any difficulty, they succeeded in reaching the copse; and then,
creeping silently through the underwood, they came to that edge of it
which was closest to the browsing herd. The bushes were evergreens--
rhododendrons--and formed excellent cover for a stalk; and, as yet, the
game had neither seen, nor heard, nor smelt the approaching enemy. They
were too distant for the arrows of Ossaroo, therefore Ossaroo could do
nothing; but they were within excellent range of the rifle and
double-barrel, loaded, as the latter was, with large buckshot.
Karl whispered to Caspar to choose one of the calves for the first
barrel, while he himself aimed at the larger game.
The bull was too distant for either bullet or buckshot. He was standing
apart, apparently acting as sentry to the herd, though this time he did
not prove a watchful guardian. He had some suspicion, however, that all
was not right; for, before they could fire, he seemed to have caught an
alarm, and, striking the ground with his massive hoofs, he uttered a
strange noise, that resembled the grunting of a hog. So exactly did it
assimilate to this, that our hunters, for the moment, believed there
were pigs in the place, and actually looked around to discover their
whereabouts.
A moment satisfied them, that the grunting came from the bull; and,
without thinking any more about it, Karl and Caspar levelled their
pieces, and fired.
The reports reverberated through the valley; and the next moment the
whole herd, with the bull at their head, were seen going in full gallop
across the plain. Not all of them, however. A calf, and one of the
cows, lay stretched upon the sward, to the great delight of the hunters,
who, rushing forth from their cover, soon stood triumphant over the
fallen game.
A word or two passed between them. They had determined on first cooking
the calf, to appease their hunger, and were about proceeding to skin it,
when a long, loud grunting sounded in their ears; and, on looking
around, they beheld the great bull coming full tilt towards them, his
head lowered to the ground, and his large, lustrous eyes flashing with
rage and vengeance, he had only retreated a short distance, fancying, no
doubt, that his whole family was after him; but, on missing two of its
members, he was now on his return to rescue or revenge them.
Strange as was the animal to all three, there was no mistaking his
prowess. His vast size, his wild, shaggy front and sweeping horns, the
vengeful expression of his eyes, all declared him a powerful and
dangerous assailant. Not one of the hunters thought for a moment of
withstanding such an assault; but, shouting to each other to run for
their lives, all three started off as fast as their legs would carry
them.
They ran for the copse, but that would not have saved them had it been
mere copse-wood. Such a huge creature as their pursuer would have
dashed through copse-wood as through a field of grass; and, in reality,
he did so, charging through the bushes, goring them down on all sides of
him, and uttering his loud grunting like a savage boar.
It so happened that there were several large trees growing up out of the
underwood, and these, fortunately, were not difficult to climb. The
three hunters did not need any advice, as to what they should do under
the circumstances. Each had an instinct of his own, and that instinct
prompted him to take to a tree; where, of course, he would be safe
enough from an animal, whose claws, if it had any, were encased in
hoofs.
The bull continued for some minutes to grunt and charge backward and
forward among the bushes, but, not finding any of the party, he at
length returned to the plain, where the dead were lying. He first
approached the cow, and then the calf, and then repeatedly passed from
one to the other, placing his broad muzzle to their bodies, and uttering
his grunting roar, apparently in a more plaintive strain than before.
After continuing these demonstrations for a while, he raised his head,
looked over the plain, and then trotted sullenly off in the direction in
which the others had gone.
Hungry as were the hunters, it was some time before they ventured to
come down from their perch. But hunger overcame them at length, and
descending, they picked up their various weapons--which they had dropped
in their haste to climb--and, having loaded the empty barrels, they
returned to the game.
These were now dragged up to the edge of the timber--so that in case the
bull should take it into his head to return, they might not have so far
to run for the friendly trees.
The calf was soon stripped of its skin--a fire kindled--several ribs
broiled over the coals, and eaten in the shortest space of time. Such
delicious veal not one of the three had ever tasted in his life. It was
not that their extreme hunger occasioned them to think so, but such was
really the fact, for they were no longer ignorant of what they were
eating. They now knew what sort of animals they had slain, and a
singular circumstance had imparted to them this knowledge. As the bull
charged about in front of the thicket, Ossaroo from his perch on the
tree had a good view of him, and one thing belonging to the animal
Ossaroo recognised as an old acquaintance--it was his _tail_! Yes, that
tail was not to be mistaken. Many such had Ossaroo seen and handled in
his young days. Many a fly had he brushed away with just such a one,
and he could have recognised it had he found it growing upon a fish.
When they returned to the quarry, Ossaroo pointed to the tail of the
dead cow--not half so full and large as that of the bull, but still of
similar character--and with a significant glance to the others, said--
"Know 'im now, Sahibs--_Ghowry_."
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
THE YAKS.
What Ossaroo meant was that he knew the tail; but he was as ignorant of
the animal to which it was attached, as if the latter had been a dragon
or a comet. Ossaroo saw that the tail was a "chowry," in other words, a
fly-flapper, such as is used in the hot countries of India for brushing
away flies, mosquitos, and other winged insects. Ossaroo knew it, for
he had often handled one to fan the old sahib, who had been his master
in the days of his boyhood.
The word chowry, however, at once suggested to the plant-hunter a train
of ideas. He knew that the chowries of India were imported across the
Himalayas from Chinese Tartary and Thibet; that they were the tails of a
species of oxen peculiar to these countries, known as the yak, or
grunting ox. Beyond a doubt then the animals they had slain were
"yaks."
Karl's conjecture was the true one. It was a herd of wild yaks they had
fallen in with, for they were just in the very country where these
animals exist in their wild state.
Linnaeus gave to these animals the name of _Bos grunniens_, or grunting
ox--seeing that they were clearly a species of the ox. It would be
difficult to conceive a more appropriate name for them; but this did not
satisfy the modern closet-naturalists--who, finding certain differences
between them and other _bovidae_, must needs form a new genus, to
accommodate this one species, and by such means render the study of
zoology more difficult. Indeed, some of these gentlemen would have a
genus for _every_ species, or even variety--all of which absurd
classification leads only to the multiplication of hard names and the
confusion of ideas.
It is a great advantage to the student, as well as to the simple reader,
when the scientific title of an animal is a word which conveys some idea
of its character, and not the latinised name of Smith or Brown,
Hofenshaufer or Wislizenus; but this title should usually be the
specific one given to the animal. Where a genus exists so easily
distinguished from all others as in the case of the old genus "_bos_,"
it is a great pity it should be cut up by fanciful systematists into
_bos, bubalus, bison, anoa, poephagus, ovibos_, and such like. The
consequence of this subdividing is that readers who are not naturalists,
and even some who are, are quite puzzled by the multitude of names, and
gain no clear idea of the animal mentioned. All these titles would have
been well enough as specific names, such as _Bos bubalus, Bos bison, Bos
grunniens_, etcetera, and it would have been much simpler and better to
have used them so. Of course if there were many species under each of
these new genera, then the case would be different, and subdivision
might load to convenience. As it is, however, there are only one or two
species of each, and in the case of some of the genera, as the musk-ox
(_ovibos_) and the yak or grunting ox, only one. Why then multiply
names and titles?
These systematists, however, not satisfied with the generic name given
by the great systematic Linnaeus, have changed the name of the _Bos
grunniens_ to that of _Poephagus grunniens_, which I presume to mean the
"grunting poa-eater," or the "grunting eater of poa grass!"--a very
specific title indeed, though I fancy there are other kinds of oxen as
well of the yak who indulge occasionally in the luxury of poa grass.
Well, this yak, or syrlak, or grunting ox, or poa-eater, whatever we may
call him, is a very peculiar and useful animal. He is not only found
wild in Thibet and other adjacent countries, but is domesticated, and
subjected to the service of man. In fact, to the people of the high
cold countries that stretch northward from the Himalayas he is what the
camel is to the Arabs, or the reindeer to the people of Lapland. His
long brown hair furnishes them with material out of winch they weave
their tents and twist their ropes. His skin supplies them with leather.
His back carries their merchandise or other burdens, or themselves when
they wish to ride; and his shoulder draws their plough and their carts.
His flesh is a wholesome and excellent beef, and the milk obtained from
the cows--either as milk, cheese, or butter--is one of the primary
articles of food among the Thibetian people.
The tails constitute an article of commerce, of no mean value. They are
exported to the plains of India, where they are bought for several
purposes--their principal use being for "chowries," or fly-brushes, as
already observed. Among the Tartar people they are worn in the cap as
bridges of distinction, and only the chiefs and distinguished lenders
are permitted the privilege of wearing them. In China, also, they are
similarly worn by the mandarins, first having been dyed of a bright red
colour. A fine full yak's tail will fetch either in China or India
quite a handsome sum of money.
There are several varieties of the yak. First, there is the true wild
yak--the same as those encountered by our travellers. These are much
larger than the domestic breeds, and the bulls are among the most fierce
and powerful of the ox tribe. Hunting them is often accompanied by
hair-breadth escapes and perilous encounters, and large dogs and horses
are employed in the chase.
The tame yaks are divided into several classes, as the ploughing yak,
the riding yak, etcetera, and these are not all of the dark brown colour
of the original race, but are met with dun-coloured, mottled red, and
even pure white. Dark brown or black, however, with a white tail, is
the prevailing colour. The yak-calf is the finest veal in the world;
but when the calf is taken from the mother, the cow refuses to yield
milk. In such cases the foot of the calf is brought for her to lick, or
the stuffed skin to fondle, when she will give milk as before,
expressing her satisfaction by short grunts like a pig.
The yak when used as a beast of burden will travel twenty miles a day,
under a load of two bags of rice or salt, or four or six planks of
pine-wood slung in pairs along either flank. Their ears are generally
pierced by their drivers, and ornamented with tufts of scarlet worsted.
Their true home is on the cold table-lands of Thibet and Tartary, or
still higher up among the mountain valleys of the Himalayas, where they
feed on grass or the smaller species of carices. They love to browse
upon steep places, and to scramble among rocks; and their favourite
places for resting or sleeping are on the tops of isolated boulders,
where the sun has full play upon them. When taken to warm climates,
they languish, and soon die of disease of the liver. It is possible,
however, that they could be acclimated in many European countries, were
it taken in hand by those who alone have the power to make the trial in
a proper manner--I mean the governments of these countries. But such
works of utility are about the last things that the tyrants of the earth
will be likely to trouble their heads with.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.
CURING THE YAK-MEAT.
Our travellers found the yak-veal excellent, and the three consumed a
quarter of it for their breakfasts before their appetites were
satisfied.
This business being brought to a conclusion, they held a council as to
what was best to be done next. Of course they had already made up their
minds to spend some days in this beautiful valley in plant-hunting.
From the glance they had had of it, Karl had no doubt that its _flora_
and _sylva_ were exceedingly rich and varied. Indeed, while passing
through the underwood he had noticed many curious kinds that were quite
new to him, and he would be likely enough to find some altogether
unknown to the botanical world. These thoughts filled him with joyful
anticipations--bright visions of future triumph in his beloved science
passed before his mind's eye, and he felt for the moment contented and
happy.
The peculiar situation of the valley led him to expect a peculiar flora,
surrounded as it was by snowy mountains--isolated apparently from other
fertile tracts, and sheltered from every wind by the lofty ridges that
encircled it. Among other peculiarities he had observed plants of
almost tropical genera, although the altitude could not be less than
15,000 feet, and the snowy mountains that towered above it were some of
the highest peaks of the Himalayas! These tropical forms had puzzled
him not a little, considering the altitude at which he observed them;
and to account for the apparent anomaly was one of the thoughts that was
passing through his mind at the moment.
As for Caspar, he was pleased to know that his brother desired to remain
there for some days. He had less interest in the rare plants, but he
had observed that the place was very well stocked with wild animals, and
he anticipated no little sport in hunting them.
It is just possible that Ossaroo sighed for the warm plains, for the
palm-groves and bamboo thickets, but the shikarree liked the look of the
game, and could spend a few days well enough in this region. Moreover,
the atmosphere of the valley was much warmer than that of the country in
which they had been travelling for several days past. Indeed, the
difference was so great as to surprise all three of them, and they could
only account for the higher temperature by supposing that it arose from
the sheltered situation of the valley itself.
Having determined on remaining, therefore it became necessary to make
some provision against hunger. Though the game seemed plenty enough,
they might not always be so successful in stalking it; and as the yak
cow offered them beef enough to last for some days, it would not do to
let the meat spoil. That must be looked to at once.
Without further ado, therefore, they set about preserving the meat.
Having no salt this might appear to be a difficult matter, and so it
would have been to the northern travellers. But Ossaroo was a man of
the tropics--in whose country salt was both scarce and dear--and
consequently he knew other plans for curing meat besides pickling it.
He knew how to cure it by the process called "jerking." This was a
simple operation, and consisted in cutting the meat into thin slices,
and either hanging it upon the branches of trees, or spreading it out
upon the rock--leaving the sun to do the rest.
It happened, however, that on that day the sun did not shine very
brightly, and it was not hot enough for jerking meat. But Ossaroo was
not to be beaten so easily. He knew an alternative which is adopted in
such cases. He knew that the meat can be jerked by the fire as well as
by the sun, and this plan he at once put into operation. Having
gathered a large quantity of fagots, he kindled them into a fire, and
then hung the beef upon scaffolds all around it--near enough to be
submitted to the heat and smoke, but not so near as that the meat should
be either broiled or burnt. When it should hang thus exposed to the
fire for a day or so, Ossaroo assured his companions it would be cured
and dried so as to keep for months without requiring a pinch of salt.
The skinning of the yak, and then cutting its flesh into strips--the
erection of the scaffold-poles, and stringing up of the meat, occupied
all hands for the space of several hours, so that when the job was
finished it was past midday.
Dinner had then to be cooked and eaten, which occupied nearly another
hour; and although it was not yet quite nightfall, they were all so
sleepy from their long vigil, and so tired with standing upon the ledge,
that they were glad to stretch themselves by the fire and go to rest.
The cold air, as evening approached, caused them to shiver; and now for
the first time they began to think of their blankets, and other matters
which they had left at their last camp. But they only thought of them
with a sigh. The road, to where these had been left, could no longer be
traversed. It would no doubt be necessary for them to make a long
detour over the mountains, before they could get back to that camp.
Ossaroo had prepared a substitute for one of the blankets at least. He
had stretched the yak-skin upon a frame, and placed it in front of the
fire, so that by night it was dry enough for some of the party to wrap
their bodies in. Sure enough, when Caspar was enveloped in this strange
blanket--with the hairy side turned inward--be obtained in it, as he
himself declared, one of the pleasantest and soundest sleeps he had ever
slept in his life.
All three, rested well enough; but had they only known of the discovery
that awaited them on the morrow, their sleep would not have been so
sound, nor their dreams so light.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
THE BOILING SPRING.
They ate their breakfasts of boiled yak-steak, washing it down with a
draught of water. They had not even a cup to hold the water. They
knelt down and drank it out of the lake. The water was clear enough,
but not as cold as they might have expected at such an elevation. They
had noticed this on the preceding day, and now expressed their surprise
at finding it so warm. They had no thermometer with which to test it,
but it was evidently of much higher temperature than the air!
Whence came this water? It could not be from the melting snow--else it
would certainly have been colder than it was. Perhaps there was a
spring somewhere? Perhaps there was a hot spring?
This was not at all improbable, for, strange to say, hot springs are
numerous on the Himalaya Mountains--often bursting out amidst ice and
snow, and at very great elevations.
Karl had read of such springs, and this it was that led him to infer the
existence of one in the valley. How else could the water be warm?
Now they recollected that on the previous morning they had noticed a
singular cloud of vapour that hung over the tops of the trees on one
side of the valley. It was no longer visible, after they had descended
from the elevation at which they then were; but they remembered the
direction in which it had been seen, and now went in search of it.
They soon reached the spot, and found it just as they had conjectured.
A hot spring was there, bubbling out from among the rocks, and then
running off in a rivulet towards the lake. Caspar thrust his hand into
the water, but drew it back again with an exclamation that betokened
both pain and surprise. The water was almost boiling!
"Well," said he, "this is convenient at all events. If we only had a
teapot, we should need no kettle. Here's water on the boil at all
hours!"