Forest and Frontiers; Or, Adventures Among the Indians by Roualeyn Gordon-Cumming (read along books .TXT) 📖

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. An idea may be formed of the height we had to ascend, and the nature of the ground which we traversed, when I mention that we left our tents at seven o'clock in the morning, and had not arrived at the "sheep-walk" before one.

Now commenced the difficulty. The burrul, from its well-known and secluded habits, is a most difficult animal to approach. I was at last, however, rewarded for my labor. About two o'clock we came upon the fresh marks of the flock; we followed them for some distance, but coming near a hot spring where they had evidently been grazing, lost of course all farther track. For the next hour I worked on one glacier, around another, used my telescope, but could not discern any object. Suddenly one of the villagers called my attention to something above me. I looked up and beheld a pair of enormous horns bending over. None of the body of the animal was then visible. I now cautiously moved a short distance to the right, when I had the satisfaction of seeing not only his horns, but a full broadside view of the first wild sheep I ever saw. He was about one hundred and fifty yards off. Having elevated the proper sight, I brought my rifle to bear on the shoulder, took a steady and gradual draw of the trigger, the rifle cracked, and dead came down the burrul of Thibet.

Perhaps, up to this time, the burrul had known no other mortal foe than the white, or whitey-brown bear of the hills—the seeta bhaloo, as he is called. And this brings me to another part of my sporting excursion.

Whether from the scarcity of food, or the amiability of their dispositions, the seeta bhaloo are to be met with constantly in small bodies of from five to ten, differing in this respect from their sable brethren, who are generally found alone, unless a matrimonial alliance has been formed, when the intrusion of a third party, whether male or female, ensures a fight.

The white bear is only carnivorous when pressed by hunger, and in that state is very destructive to the numerous Tartar flocks of sheep, for Bruin, with an empty larder is not to be deterred from his ravenous attacks by men or dogs—a haunch of mutton he will have. His mode of devouring it differs greatly from that of the tiger or leopard. He tears the fleece off with his paws, and instead of gnawing and tearing the flesh, as most carnivorous animals do, he commences sucking it, and in this way draws off the flesh in shreds, thus occupying four or five hours in doing what a tiger or leopard would effectually achieve in half an hour. It is well known among the Tartars, (and I know it also from experience,) that a bear, after feasting off flesh, is a very dangerous customer, and will always show fight. If near the carcass he has captured, he will give very little trouble in looking for him, indeed, he will almost invariably attack the intruder.

One day while following up some wild sheep, I came upon two bears very busily engaged in digging up the snow where an avalanche had fallen. Being hid from their sight, I determined to wait some little time to ascertain why they were digging. I accordingly placed myself behind a rock, and allowed them to work away. In about an hour they had made a very good opening; and on using my glass I found they had got hold of something. I now pushed up to them. One immediately showed fight, and came out to meet me. He made one charge at me, which I received with a rifle ball, killing him the very first shot. The other bear got away. On going up to the spot where they had been at work, I found the exhumed bodies of three wild sheep. They had been carried away and buried underneath the avalanche, probably as far back as the previous year, considering the very compact and frozen state the snow was in. The sheep were in excellent order. We skinned them, and took them to our tents, and excellent mutton we all had for several days.

On the melting of the snows, the golden eagle of the Himalaya—a magnificent bird, often measuring thirteen feet from the tip of one wing to the other—is one of the best of pointers a sportsman can follow, to ascertain where any animal has been carried away in an avalanche. He hovers over the spot, constantly alighting, and then taking wing again; but if once you observe him pecking with his beak you may proceed to the spot, and be certain of finding, a very short distance below the snow, the carcass of a wild sheep, as fresh as it was on the day on which it was carried away. Many a haunch of good mutton have I obtained in this way.

The Himalayan golden eagle is a very carrion crow, never destroying its own game, and feeding on any dead carcass it may find.

Many an eagle have I shot feeding on the carcass of an unfortunate hill bullock, which, either through stupidity or fright, had tumbled over a precipice; and never, during the many years I shot over all parts of these hills, do I remember seeing a golden eagle pounce on or carry away a living prey.

The Tartar shepherds near the snow informed me that during the lambing season the eagles were very troublesome. If a ewe dropped a sickly lamb, and left it, the eagle would attack it, but never attempted to stoop to carry away a live one, or one that followed its mother. The Indian golden eagle is identical with the Lammergeyer of the Alps, but wants the courage of the latter bird.

A companion and myself had been working hard in the "Sogla," one of the passes in the snowy range conducting into Chinese Tartary, after the wild sheep, and found them this day wilder and more wary than on any previous occasion. It is not generally known that there are two species of wild sheep—one called the dairuk, and the other (an enormous animal, at least as far as its horns are concerned) known to naturalists as the ovis ammon. The horns and head of the latter are as much as a hill man can lift, and singular enough the body is small indeed, out of all proportion to the horns borne by a full-grown ram. 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. On arriving at the spot I found my dog baying most piteously, and trying to bite away the frozen sides, but to no purpose, and I was obliged immediately to get him chained up, fearing he would have plunged in after the game, when I should have lost him, and most probably my own life. Having thus introduced the wild sheep and white bear of Tartary, a few sentences may not unprofitably be spent in describing the genus homo of the Snowy Range. The Tartars, as may be imagined, are a very original race, and in those parts visited by me I found them very primitive and intensive, always barring the petty larceny propensities. Depending principally on the sale of their wool for their support, and being Bhuddhists by religion, they dared not destroy animal life; but when nature had deprived one of their bullocks or sheep of existence, either by accident or old age, economy forbids their wasting the carcass, and it is eagerly devoured by them. Some of the ancient rams I saw would require a considerable deal of mastication and powerful digestive organs when summoned to their forefathers and committed to a Tartar's jaws.

I cannot say that the hill people thrive on the diet, for in appearance they are a miserable-looking, stunted race, very filthy in their habits, seldom changing their coarse woollen clothing, and entertaining a religious horror of cold water.

They have no objection to the good things brought from our side of the snow, and I have seen them devour salt beef and pork with great gusto. But what they must delight in, when they can get it, is English brandy and tobacco. The former they will drink in great quantities, and for men unaccustomed to liquor it is astonishing how well they resist its intoxicating properties. I saw one man, a "Siana," the head of a village, drink off two bottles of pure brandy without apparently feeling any ill effects from the potation. On questioning him about his sensations, he said that the only difference he found between the brandy and water was, that it made his inside comfortably warm, and his tongue very slippery, of which he gave us proof by chattering and singing in a most uncouth way. Of all the horrible noises I ever heard, those which a half-drunken Tartar makes are the most discordant. The deep nasal and guttural noises he emits would beat Welsh and Gaelic by a long chalk.

Although petty thefts are common among the Thibetans, valuable articles may with with safety be left among them—even money they will never touch. Many an hour have I whiled away among them watching Buctoo and Jye Sing showing them many articles of my property, the use or value of which they could not comprehend. Of my guns and rifles, in particular, they stood in great awe, and for a long time none of them could be induced to touch one. Our telescopes also caused great terror, and many were the learned arguments they had as to what possibly could be the use of the latter. I invariably carried a favorite "Dolland" across my shoulder, and Buctoo was provided with a similar instrument, of which he was very proud, and in the use of which he became very expert.

One day, after a good day's sport, we had all sat down near a beautiful spring, and I was enjoying a luncheon, when I found that Buctoo had collected some fifty Tartars about him, who sat in a circle, listening to his explanation of the use of his telescope. None of his hearers could for some time be induced to touch it; they were afraid of its either exploding or metamorphosing them into wild sheep. The large village Tehong Si was about four miles below our bivouac, and several of the head men had come up to have a look at us. The village was just discernible to the naked eye, and Buctoo politely inquired of one of the chiefs, if he would like to be informed what was going on in the village below? The chief told him he should, when Buctoo drew out the glass, on which all the Tartars moved off to a respectful distance.

After looking at the village, Buctoo persuaded them to come close to him once more, and duly informed them what he could see in the village, describing certain parts of it so correctly that they were astounded. (I must here mention that neither myself nor any of my servants had been allowed to enter the village.) The Tartars at first could hardly credit it; but after sundry questions as to the description of houses on the north side, and again on the southern, which Buctoo, on carefully examining,