106 INDIAN BIG GAME chap. 



stern towards me. The grass at this time of year 

 is too long to follow bison, so I had to let him go. 



Sunday morning I was up and on my way 

 to the stalking ground before daylight. 



As objects became visible, I was much better 

 pleased with the appearance of the country than 

 last time, as, by the greenness of the grass and 

 refreshed look about the trees, I could see that 

 there had been good rain lately, and I felt quite 

 hopeful of seeing game about. It was so early 

 that the pea-fowl had not yet ventured to leave 

 their nightly perch, and hearing one not far off, 

 I slipped a shot cartridge into my right barrel 

 and made towards him, but he was much too 

 vigilant, and flew off before I could get within 

 shot — a good thing, too, as it turned out, for 

 there was much nobler game not far off, which 

 would have been disturbed if I had fired. I left 

 the shot cartridge in the barrel, but took the 

 precaution to lower the hammer so as not to be 

 taken unawares, as I think most sportsmen will 

 find that they instinctively fire the right barrel 

 first. And my solitary tracker (I never care to 

 take more than one man, as the fewer the people 

 the less noise) had not proceeded far when we 

 heard a great screeching of monkeys, and I said 

 there must be one of the feline tribe on the prowl. 

 We did not hurry ourselves, but just sauntered 

 in and out of the thickets, always edging towards 

 the uproar, which came from the banks of a 

 stream that is running at this time of the year. 

 We had got almost alongside the bamboo fringing 

 the bank when what should I see but a huge tiger 

 marching through the bamboo towards us, just 



