This physical fragment at once removed all my
doubts, the horn being different from that of any tame sheep. I was
now wound up to the highest pitch of excitement; my marching
establishment was soon put in order, and we started on the following
day. Fifteen forced marches brought me to the foot of the snow, and
also to the last village, called "Ufsul." I found the inhabitants of
this village a most rude and demi-barbarous race, knowing little, and
wishing to know less, of Englishmen, of whom they seemed to have the
greatest dread. However, two days' soft sawdering with a plentiful
supply of hill "buckshee," (spirits,) made them more communicative;
and they at last informed me, if I would promise only to remain a
week, they would show me the wild sheep. This promise, of course, I
gave; and on the following morning at daybreak, (shivering cold it
was,) we started to ascend the snow-capped mountains and glaciers,
which the animal patronized. On the road up I was sorely tempted to
draw my ball and ram down shot, in order to bring down some of the
many woodcocks we were constantly flushing, and which were so
unaccustomed to be disturbed, that they only flew a few yards away;
but I resisted the temptation.
As we progressed in the region of eternal snow, we began to find
pedestrianism a difficult task. Some parts of the path were very
slippery and hard; others, soft and knee-deep in snow.
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