he first
two shots spattered the loose rock about a foot low. For the third I got a
dead rest over a stone and as the crash of the little Mannlicher echoed up
the gorge, the goral threw itself into the air whirling over and over onto
the rocks below.

The hunters, mad with excitement, dashed up the hill and down into the
stream bed, and when I arrived the goral lay on a grassy ledge beside the
water. The animal was stone dead, for my bullet had passed through its
lungs, and, although the front teeth had been smashed on the rocks, its
horns were uninjured and the beautiful gray coat was in perfect condition.
It so happened that this ram was the largest which we killed on the entire
trip.

When the hunters were carrying the goral to camp we met Yvette and Heller
on their way to visit the traps just below snow line, and she returned with
me to photograph the animal and to watch the ceremonies which I knew would
be performed. One of the natives cut a leafy branch, placed the goral upon
it and at the first cut chanted a prayer. Then laying several leaves one
upon the other he sliced off the tip of the heart, wrapped it carefully in
the leaves and placed it in a nearby tree as an offering to the God of the
Hunt.

I have often seen the Chinese and Korean hunters perform similar ceremonies
at the death of an animal, and the idea that it is necessary to propitiate
the God of the Hunt is universal. When I was shooting in Korea in 1912, and
also in other parts of China, if luck had been against us for a few days
the hunters would invariably ask me to buy a chicken, or some animal to
sacrifice for "good joss."

After each dog had had a taste of the goral's blood we again climbed the
cliff at the end of the meadow. When we were nearly 2,000 feet above camp
the clouds shut in and, as the impenetrable gray curtain wrapped itself
about us, we could only sit quietly and wait for it to drift away.

After an hour the fog began to thin and the men sent the hounds toward a
talus slope at the base of the highest peak. Almost immediately the big red
dog picked up a trail and started across the loose rock with the pack
yelping at his heels. We followed as rapidly as possible over such hard
going but before we reached the other side the dogs had rounded a sharp
pinnacle and disappeared far below us. Expecting that the goral would swing
about the base of the peak the hunters sent me back across the talus to
watch for a shot, but the animal