MONGOLIAN _ARGALI_
Although we had seen nearly a dozen sheep where we killed our first
three rams, the mountains were deserted when Harry returned the
following morning. He hunted faithfully, but did not see even a
roebuck; the sheep all had left for other feeding grounds. I remained
in camp to superintend the preparation of our specimens.
The next day we had a glorious hunt. By six o'clock we were climbing
the winding, white trail west of camp, and for half an hour we stood
gazing into the gloomy depths of the stupendous gorge, as yet unlighted
by the morning sun. Then we separated, each making toward the grassy
uplands by different routes.
Na-mon-gin led me along the summit of a broken ridge, but, evidently,
he did not expect to find sheep in the ravines, for he kept straight
on, mile after mile, with never a halt for rest. At last we reached a
point where the plateau rolled away in grassy waves of brown. We were
circling a rounded hill, just below the crest, when, not thirty yards
away, three splendid roe deer jumped to their feet and stood as though
frozen, gazing at us; then, with a snort, they dashed down the slope
and up the other side. They had not yet disappeared, when two other
bucks crossed a ridge into the bottom of the draw. It was a sore trial
to let them go, but the old hunter had his hand upon my arm and shook
his head.
Passing the summit of the hill, we sat down for a look around. Before
us, nearly a mile away, three shallow, grass-filled valleys dropped
steeply from the rolling meadowland. Almost instantly through my
binoculars I caught the moving forms of three sheep in the bottom of
the central draw. "_Pan-yang_," I said to the Mongol. "Yes, yes, I see
them," he answered. "One has very big horns." He was quite right; for
the largest ram carried a splendid head, and the other was by no means
small. The third was a tiny ewe. The animals wandered about nibbling at
the grass, but did not move out of the valley bottom. After studying
them awhile the hunter remarked, "Soon they will go to sleep. We'll
wait till then. They would hear or smell us if we went over now."
I ate one of the three pears I had brought for tiffin and smoked a
cigarette. The hunter stretched himself out comfortably upon the grass
and pulled away at his pipe. It was very pleasant there, for we were
protected from the wind, and the sun was delightfully warm. I watched
the sheep through the glasses and wondered if I should carry home the
splendid ram that night. Finally the little ewe lay down and the others
followed her example.
We were just preparing to go when the hunter touched my arm.
"_Pan-yang_" he whispered. "There, coming over the hill. Don't move."
Sure enough, a sheep was trotting slowly down the hillside in our
direction. Why he did not see or smell us, I cannot imagine, for the
wind was in his direction. But he came on, passed within one hundred
feet, and stopped on the summit of the opposite swell. What a shot!
He was so close that I could have counted the rings on his horns--and
they were good horns, too, just the size we wanted for the group. But
the hunter would not let me shoot. Hi? heart was set upon the big ram
peacefully sleeping a mile away.
"A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush" is a motto which I have
followed with good success in hunting, and I was loath to let that
_argali_ go even for the prospect of the big one across the valley.
But I had a profound respect for the opinion of my hunter. He usually
guessed right, and I had found it safe to follow his advice.
So we watched the sheep walk slowly over the crest of the hill. The
Mongol did not tell me then, but he knew that the animal was on his way
to join the others, and his silence cost us the big ram. You may wonder
how he knew it. I can only answer that what that Mongol did not know
about the ways of sheep was not worth learning. He seemed to think as
the sheep thought, but, withal, was a most intelligent and delightful
companion. His ready sympathy, his keen humor, and his interest in
helping me get the finest specimens of the animals I wanted, endeared
him to me in a way which only a sportsman can understand. His Shansi
dialect and my limited Mandarin made a curious combination of the
Chinese language, but we could always piece it out with signs, and we
never misunderstood each other on any important matter.
We had many friendly differences of opinion about the way in which to
conduct a stalk, and his childlike glee when he was proved correct was
most refreshing. One morning I got the better of him, and for days he
could not forget it. We were sitting on a hillside, and with my glasses
I picked up a herd of sheep far away on the uplands. "Yes," he said,
"one is a very big ram." How he could tell at that distance was a
mystery to me, but I did not question his statement for he had proved
too often that his range of sight was almost beyond belief.
We started toward the sheep, and after half a mile I looked again. Then
I thought I saw a grasscutter, and the animals seemed like donkeys. I
said as much but the hunter laughed. "Why, I saw the horns," he said.
"One is a big one, a _very_ big one." I stopped a second time and made
out a native bending over, cutting grass. But I could not convince the
Mongol. He disdained my glasses and would not even put them to his
eyes. "I don't have to--I _know_ they are sheep," he laughed. But I,
too, was sure. "Well, we'll see," he said. When we looked again, there
could be no mistake; the sheep were donkeys. It was a treat to watch
the Mongol's face, and I made much capital of his mistake, for he had
so often teased me when I was wrong.
But to return to the sheep across the valley which we were stalking
on that sunlit Thursday noon. After the ram had disappeared we made
our way slowly around the hilltop, whence he had come, to gain a
connecting meadow which would bring us to the ravine where the _argali_
were sleeping. On the way I was in a fever of indecision. Ought I to
have let that ram go? He was just what we wanted for the group, and
something might happen to prevent a shot at the others. It was "a bird
in the hand" again, and I had been false to the motto which had so
often proved true.
Then the "something" I had feared did happen. We saw a grasscutter
with two donkeys emerge from a ravine on the left and strike along
the grassy bridge five hundred yards beyond us. If he turned to the
right across the upper edge of the meadows, we could whistle for our
sheep. Even if he kept straight ahead, possibly they might scent him.
The Mongol's face was like a thundercloud. I believe he would have
strangled that grasscutter could he have had him in his hands. But
the Fates were kind, and the man with his donkeys kept to the left
across the uplands. Even then my Mongol would not hurry. His motto was
"Slowly, slowly," and we seemed barely to crawl up the slope of the
shallow valley which I hoped still held the sheep.
On the summit of the draw the old hunter motioned me behind him and
cautiously raised his head. Then a little farther. Another step and a
long look. He stood on tiptoe, and, settling back, quietly motioned me,
to move up beside him.
Just then a gust of wind swept across the hilltop and into the ravine.
There was a rush of feet, a clatter of sliding rock, and three
_argali_ dashed into view on the opposite slope. They stopped two
hundred yards away. My hunter was frantically whispering, "One more.
Don't shoot. Don't shoot." I was at a loss to understand, for I knew
there were only three sheep in the draw. The two rams both seemed
enormous, and I let drive at the leader. He went down like lead--shot
through the shoulders. The two others ran a few yards and stopped
again. When I fired, the sheep whirled about but did not fall. I threw
in another shell and held the sight well down. The "putt" of a bullet
on flesh came distinctly to us, but the ram stood without a motion.
The third shot was too much, and he slumped forward, rolled over,
and crashed to the bottom of the ravine. All the time Na-mon-gin was
frantically whispering, "Not right. Not right. The big one. The big
one." As the second sheep went down I learned the reason. Out from the
valley directly below us rushed a huge ram, washed with white on the
neck and shoulders and carrying a pair of enormous, curling horns. I
was too surprised to move. How could four sheep be there, when I knew
there were only three!
Usually I am perfectly cool when shooting and have all my excitement
when the work is done, but the unexpected advent of that ram turned on
the thrills a bit too soon. I forgot what I had whispered to myself
at every shot, "Aim low, aim low. You are shooting down hill." I held
squarely on his gray-white shoulder and pulled the trigger. The bullet
just grazed his back. He ran a few steps and stopped. Again I fired
hurriedly, and the ball missed him by the fraction of an inch. I saw
it strike and came to my senses with a jerk; but it was too late, for
the rifle was empty. Before I could cram in another shell the sheep was
gone.
Na-mon-gin was absolutely disgusted. Even though I had killed two fine
rams, he wanted the big one. "But," I said, "where did the fourth sheep
come from? I saw only three." He looked at me in amazement. "Didn't
you know that the ram which walked by us went over to the others?" he
answered. "Any one ought to have known that much."
Well, I hadn't known. Otherwise, I should have held my fire. Right
there the Mongol read me a lecture on too much haste. He said I was
like every other foreigner--always joy out of the others; and to make
matters worse, the magnificent animal stationed himself on the very
hillside where we had been sitting when we saw them first and, with the
little ewe close beside him, watched us for half an hour.
Na-mon-gin glared at him and shook his fist. "We'll get you to-morrow,
you old rabbit," he said; and then to me, "Don't you care. I won't eat
till we kill him."
For the next ten minutes the kindly old Mongol devoted himself to
bringing a smile to my lips. He told me he knew just where that ram
would go; we couldn't have carried in his head anyway; that it would
be much better to save him for to-morrow; and that I had killed the
other two so beautifully that he was proud of me.
I continued to feel better when I saw the two dead _argali_. They were
both fine rams, in perfect condition, with beautiful horns. One of them
was the sheep which had walked so close to us; there was no doubt of
that, for I had been able to see the details of his "face and figure."
Every _argali_ has its own special characters which are unmistakable.
In the carriage of his head, the curve of his horns, and in coloration,
he is as individual as a human being.
While we were examining the sheep, Harry and his hunter appeared upon
the rim of the ravine. They brought with them, on a donkey, the skin
and head of a fine two-year-old ram which he had killed an hour earlier
far beyond us on the uplands. It fitted exactly into our series, and
when we had another big ram and two ewes, the group would be complete.
Poor Harry was hobbling along just able to walk. He had strained a
tendon in his right leg the previous morning, and had been enduring the
most excruciating pain all day. He wanted to stay and help us skin the
sheep, but I would not let him. We were a long way from camp, and it
would require all his strength to get back at all.
At half-past four we finished with the sheep, and tied the skins and
much of the meat on the two donkeys which Harry had commandeered. Our
only way home lay down the river bed, for in the darkness we could not
follow the trail along the cliffs. By six o'clock it was black night in
the gorge.
The donkeys were our only salvation, for by instinct--it couldn't have
been sight--they followed the trail along the base of the cliffs. By
keeping my hands upon the back of the rearmost animal, and the two
Mongols close to me, we got out of the cañon and into the wider valley.
When we reached the village I was hungry enough to eat chips, for I had
had only three pears since six o'clock in the morning, and it was then
nine at night.
Harry, limping into camp just after dark, had met my cousin, Commander
Thomas Hutchins, Naval Attaché of the American Legation, and Major
Austin Barker of the British Army, whom we had been expecting. They
had reached the village about ten o'clock in the morning and spent
the afternoon shooting hares near a beautiful temple which Harry had
discovered among the hills three miles from camp. The boys had waited
dinner for me, and we ate it amid a gale of laughter--we were always
laughing during the five days that Tom and Barker were with us.
Harry was out of the hunting the next day because his leg needed a
complete rest. I took Tom out with me, while Barker was piloted by an
old Mongol who gave promise of being a good hunter. Tom and I climbed
the white trail to the summit of the ridge, while Barker turned off to
the left to gain the peaks on the other side of the gorge. Na-mon-gin
was keen for the big ram which I had missed the day before. He had a
very definite impression of just where that sheep was to be found, and
he completely ignored the ravines on either side of the trail.
Not half a mile from the summit of the pass, the Mongol stopped and
said, "_Pan-yang_--on that ridge across the valley," He looked again
and turned to me with a smile. "It is the same ram," he said. "I knew
he would be here." Sure enough, when I found the sheep with my glasses,
I recognized our old friend. The little ewe was with him, and they had
been joined by another ram carrying a circlet of horns, not far short
of the big fellow's in size.
For half an hour we watched them while the Mongols smoked. The sheep
were standing on the very crest of a ridge across the river, moving
a few steps now and then, but never going far from where we first
discovered them. My hunter said that soon they would go to sleep, and
in less than half an hour they filed down hill into the valley; then
we, too, went down, crossed a low ridge, and descended to the river's
edge. The climb up the other side was decidedly stiff, and it was
nearly an hour before we were peering into the ravine where the sheep
had disappeared. They were not there, and the hunter said they had gone
either up or down the valley--he could not tell which way.
We went up first, but no sheep. Then we crossed to the ridge where
we had first seen the _argali_ and cautiously looked over a ledge of
rocks. There they were, about three hundred yards below, and on the
alert, for they had seen Tom's hunter, who had carelessly exposed
himself on the crest of the ridge. Tom fired hurriedly, neglecting to
remember that he was shooting down hill, and, consequently, overshot
the big ram. They rushed off, two shots of mine falling short at nearly
four hundred yards as they disappeared behind a rocky ledge.
My Mongol said that we might intercept them if we hurried, and he
led me a merry chase into the bottom of the ravine and up the other
side. The sheep were there, but standing in an amphitheater formed by
inaccessible cliffs. I advocated going to the ridge above and trying
for a shot, but the hunter scoffed at the idea. He said that they would
surely scent or hear us long before we could see them.
Tom and his Mongol joined us in a short time, and for an hour we lay
in the sunshine waiting for the sheep to compose themselves. It was
delightfully warm, and we were perfectly content to remain all the
afternoon amid the glorious panorama of encircling peaks.
At last Na-mon-gin prepared to leave. He indicated that we were to go
below and that Tom's hunter was to drive the sheep toward us. When we
reached the river, the Mongol placed Tom behind a rock at the mouth
of the amphitheater. He took me halfway up the slope, and we settled
ourselves behind two bowlders.
I was breathing hard from the strenuous climb, and the old fellow
waited until I was ready to shoot; then he gave a signal, and Tom's
hunter appeared at the very summit of the rocky amphitheater. Instantly
the sheep were on the move, running directly toward us. They seemed
to be as large as elephants, for never before had I been as close to
a living _argali_. Just as the animals mounted the crest of a rocky
ledge, not more than fifty yards away, Na-mon-gin whistled sharply, and
the sheep stopped as though turned to stone.
"Now," he whispered, "shoot." As I brought my rifle to the level
it banged in the air. I had been showing the hunters how to use
the delicate set-trigger, and had carelessly left it on. The sheep
instantly dashed away, but there was only one avenue of escape, and
that was down hill past me. My second shot broke the hind leg of
the big ram; the third struck him in the abdomen, low down, and he
staggered, but kept on. The sheep had reached the bottom of the valley
before my fourth bullet broke his neck.
Tom opened fire when the other ram and the ewe appeared at the mouth
of the amphitheater, but his rear sight had been loosened in the climb
down the cliff, and his shots went wild. It was hard luck, for I was
very anxious to have him kill an _argali_.
The abdomen shot would have finished the big ram eventually, and I
might have killed the other before it crossed the creek; but experience
has taught me that it is best to take no chances with a wounded animal
in rough country such as this. I have lost too many specimens by being
loath to finish them off when they were badly hit.
PLATE XIV
[Illustration: WHERE THE BIGHORN SHEEP ARE FOUND]
[Illustration: A MONGOLIAN ROEBUCK]
My ram was a beauty. His horns were almost equal to those of the
record head which Harry had killed on the first day, but one of them
was marred by a broken tip. The old warrior must have weathered nearly
a score of winters and have had many battles. But his new coat was
thick and fine--the most beautiful of any we had seen. As he lay in
the bottom of the valley I was impressed again by the enormous size
of an _argali's_ body. There was an excellent opportunity to compare
it with a donkey's, for before we had finished our smoke, a Mongol
arrived driving two animals before him. The sheep was about one-third
larger than the donkey, and with his tremendous neck and head must have
weighed a great deal more.
After the ram had been skinned Tom and I left the men to pack in the
meat, skin, and head, while we climbed to the summit of the pass and
wandered slowly home in the twilight. Major Barker came in shortly
after we reached the village. He was almost done, for his man had taken
him into the rough country north of camp. A strenuous day for a man
just from the city, but Barker was enthusiastic. Even though he had
not killed a ram, he had wounded one in the leg and had counted twenty
sheep--more than either Harry or I had seen during the entire time we
had been at Wu-shi-tu.
When we awoke at five o'clock in the morning, Tom stretched himself
very gingerly and remarked that the only parts of him which weren't
sore were his eyelids! Harry was still _hors de combat_ with the
strained tendon in his leg, and I had the beginning of an attack of
influenza. Barker admitted that his joints "creaked" considerably;
still, he was full of enthusiasm. We started off together but separated
when six miles from camp. He found sheep on the uplands almost at
once, but did not get a head. Barker was greatly handicapped by using
a special model U. S. Army Springfield rifle, which weighed almost as
much as a machine gun, and could not have been less fitted for hunting
in rough country. No man ever worked harder for an _argali_ than he
did, and he deserved the best head in the mountains. By noon I was
burning with fever and almost unable to drag myself back to camp. I
arrived at four o'clock, just after Tom returned. He had not seen a
sheep.
The Major hunted next day, but was unsuccessful, and none of us went to
the mountains again, for I had nearly a week in bed, and Harry was only
able to hobble about the court. On the 28th of October, Tom and Barker
left for Peking. Harry and I were sorry to have them leave us. I have
camped with many men in many countries of the world, but with no two
who were better field companions. Neither Harry nor I will ever forget
the happy days with them.
It was evident that I could not hunt again for at least a week,
although I could sit a horse. We had seven sheep, and the group was
assured; therefore, we decided to shift camp to the wapiti country,
fifty miles away hoping that by the time we reached there, we both
would be fit again.