74 INDIAN BIG GAME chap. 



was now 10 a.m., when deer have mostly taken 

 cover, so, hearing some pea-fowl calling ahead 

 in the direction we were going, and quite for- 

 getting that probably Poota Madha — who held 

 my shot-gun — had not heard their cry, I was 

 expecting every moment to see these gorgeous 

 birds, when suddenly my gun-bearer dropped on 

 to his knees, I following suit as quickly as possible. 

 With my whole mind on pea-fowl, I tried to 

 wrench my scatter-gun from the shikari, whose 

 only reply was " Fire, fire, don't you see the ' barre 

 hore ' ? " — i.e. big stag. Looking in the direc- 

 tion he indicated, my heart jumped into my 

 mouth as I saw a large herd of these beautiful 

 deer slowly grazing forward, with several good 

 heads in the herd and one exceptionally good stag 

 nearest to me, who, with head erect and antlers 

 branching over his back, looked majestic, very 

 dark in colour and the neck almost black. I was 

 trembling so with excitement that I muttered a 

 heartfelt prayer for my bullet to carry true as I 

 took aim and fired. My stag had vanished, and 

 Poota Madha was positive I had missed, but when 

 he told me that the whole herd had run off in one 

 direction and the stag had dashed off in another, 

 I was equally sure that I had hit, so insisted upon 

 following the tracks most carefully, although 

 there was no sign of blood. We had not followed 

 far when the stag himself proved he was hit by 

 jumping up and rushing off, without giving me 

 a chance to draw a bead. Where he had lain 

 down were the unmistakable signs of a paunch 

 wound. In my shakiness I had pulled to the 

 right, my favourite shot being just behind the 



