EXPERIENCES IN CENTRAL PROVINCES 91 



" Fire, sahib, fire," said the shikari. 



These men rarely understand the reason for waiting 

 once they have brought one up to the quarry. 



The minutes passed and I began to despair of a shot, 

 when suddenly the big stag turned broadside on and stood 

 silently at gaze. He evidently heard something and was 

 prepared to bolt. I raised the rifle and, almost without 

 aiming, fired. The stag sprang into the air and in a few 

 bounds was in the forest, my second barrel being, I felt 

 certain, a miss. Almost before the first report sounded in 

 my ears the does were gone, and the two young stags followed 

 the older one in a flash. 



" I hit him. He's down all right," I said, and hurried 

 across the clearing. The shikari fell in at my side, but he 

 did not appear to share my certainty. I passed, without a 

 glance, the spot where the stag had stood, so sure was I 

 of the hit, and entered the forest. Here, however, I was 

 quickly pulled up by spear grass — that curse of the forests 

 of these and other parts — and looked round for the shikari. 

 He soon appeared with a few blades of grass died red with 

 blood. 



" He's hit, sahib. We shall get him. He can't go far." 



We then commenced to search for blood and almost 

 immediately a patch was found, and further on clots of it. 

 Fifty yards, a hundred yards, passed under our feet and 

 still the blood continued. We were attentively examining 

 the last patch when suddenly a shape loomed up out of the 

 spear grass, ran forward a few paces and, even as I sighted 

 on it, fell over. It was the stag. When we got up to him 

 he was dead, the fine eyes glazing over. He was a beautiful 

 beast, the horns wonderfully symmetrical, the best pair I 

 ever secured, in fact. But as I stood over him and gazed 

 at the perfect beauty of the animal I regretted having 

 shot him. 



It was late in the afternoon when we reached the rocky 

 hill in which we hoped to find the bear at home. We had 

 marched several miles after the death of the stag, and I 

 had sought then the shelter of an old mango tree growing 

 near a trickle of a stream in a big ravine, and there had 

 spent several hours enjoying tifhn and forty winks. At 

 two, almost the hottest period of the day, we had started 



