120 DIARY OF A SPORTSMAN NATURALIST 



of the Station, two of the party being married men, and on 

 their return they were left severely alone till in the course 

 of time their polls became presentable again. 



Although the jungles were so different in character here, 

 a deep green being the general colouring, as was the colour 

 of our shikar suits (khaki being useless), the tracking was 

 similar in many ways to the methods in favour in Chota 

 Nagpur. Owing to the greater dampness in these jungles it 

 was, however, far easier. 



I remember one occasion when we ran down a bull and the 

 incident is typical of the procedure. 



It was late in the season, too late really for a variety of 

 reasons, malaria being one. I had to go out on duty in the 

 middle of June to meet the Collector over some dispute or 

 other (these Chittagonians are the most cantankerous and 

 litigious set of people on the face of the earth and give 

 unending trouble) and I determined to make use of the 

 occasion to visit some forests I had not yet been into. It 

 was two years before I had visited the major part of the 

 area I held charge of in this division, the country to be 

 gone over being so large and the facilities for travelling so 

 inadequate. It has since been divided into two separate 

 charges or divisions. 



I set off, allowing myself a day to have a look for bison. 

 A hospitable planter friend whose tea garden was situated on 

 the northern boundary of the district, the most remote of all 

 the tea gardens in these parts, was to be my host and I had 

 a very interesting ride to get to his place. Two rivers had 

 to be crossed in the morning and, safely negotiating these, 

 I arrived at midday at a little village, changing ponies on 

 the way. My second mount, sent out for me by my friend, 

 was a plucky little beast and gave no trouble at the second 

 crossing, unlike the other cross-grained brute, who got 

 engulfed in black mud and was only extricated with con- 

 siderable difficulty. At the village I found the place I 

 wanted to inspect was a mile away by a village path. I set 

 off to walk this. The Station was most prettily situated on 

 the edge of a small river and entirely buried in bamboo 

 clumps. No European had apparently been here for years. 

 The inspection completed, I walked back to the village, ate 

 my sandwiches, and then climbing on to a big horse, also 

 belonging to my friend, I set off for his bungalow. That was 

 a hot ride, the road being a new-made earth one. We had 



