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"Pan-yang," I said to the Mongol. "Yes, yes, I see them," he answered. "One has very big horns." He was quite right; for the largest ram carried a splendid head, and the other was by no means small. The third was a tiny ewe. The animals wandered about nibbling at the grass, but did not move out of the valley bottom. After studying them awhile the hunter remarked, "Soon they will go to sleep.
I watched the sheep through the glasses and wondered if I should carry home the splendid ram that night. Finally the little ewe lay down and the others followed her example. We were just preparing to go when the hunter touched my arm. "Pan-yang," he whispered. "There, coming over the hill. Don't move." Sure enough, a sheep was trotting slowly down the hillside in our direction.
The skin and head of the sheep made a pack weighing nearly one hundred pounds, and the old Mongol groaned as he looked up at the mountain barriers which separated us from camp. On the summit of the first ridge we found the trail over which we had passed in the morning. Half an hour later the hunter jerked me violently behind a ledge of rock. "Pan-yang," he whispered, "there, on the mountain side.
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