My companion and self espied on an opposite hill what we at first
(through our telescopes) thought was an enormous pair of horns moving
without any ostensible carriage. At last we observed the body, and I,
in delight, exclaimed, "By Jove, there is the ovis ammon at last."
After considerable trouble and precious hard work, we worked up to
within the range, when a shot from my rifle brought the ram tumbling
down over the snow. I hoped and believed he was dead, but he was only
wounded. He got up again, and, in spite of the wound, made a very good
gallop over the deep snow. Finding he was too fast for us, we slipped
our dogs, and among them my poor "Karchia." The poor dog, as usual,
was first up with the ram, and seized him. The ram, having still a
good deal in him, broke the hold, and down he went to the bottom of
the ravine, where ran the Tonse river, a tributary of the Jumna here
in the snow.
The river was covered over in many places by avalanches, and was also
partly frozen; but in many places there were large holes. The ram
bounded over these until my poor dog Karchia again closed with and
seized him behind. With a vigorous effort the ovis ammon shook him
off. A few yards before the steep was a large hole in the Tonse, the
water foaming up through it; into this ovis ammon threw himself, and
was carried under the snow. Heaven knows where.
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