The kuku-yamans are, as we have stated, active climbers, but they sometimes find themselves in an awkward position. Thus in the mountains round Lake Koko-nor I once surprised a herd of twelve on a gigantic cliff. How they got there I cannot to this day explain, because the rock was perfectly precipitous on three sides, and on the fourth covered with loose detritus, which could have borne nothing larger than a mouse. Parallel with this rock, and 100 paces distant from it, was another one more accessible, whence I suddenly caught sight of the game. An old ram stood exactly facing me, on a narrow ledge just wide enough for his feet to rest on. I fired, and my shot struck him behind the chest. He stood for a few moments tottering on the verge of the precipice. At length his strength failed him; first one foot, then another, gave way, and the handsome beast fell headlong down a chasm 400 feet deep. Sullen echoes resounded as he fell. The frightened herd did not know what to do, and after making a few bounds along the edge of the cliff, stopped. Another shot was fired, and a ewe this time fell into the same chasm into which the ram had preceded her.
It was an extraordinary sight. I myself could not help feeling moved at seeing two of these large animals fall headlong into the depths below. But the excitement of the chase prevailed. Again I loaded my rifle, and again sent two shots into the herd, now more than ever alarmed. In this way I fired seven times, till the animals were driven to
