THE JUNGLES OF SOUTHERN INDIA 145 



here had something of the character of the Chittagong Hill 

 Tracts. These jungles are, however, if not denser, infinitely 

 heavier going and more miry, and the bamboo clumps of 

 far greater size. In fact, in my experience they more 

 resemble the evergreen forests of North Assam. But there 

 you move about on elephants, whilst here we were on foot. 



For two hours we followed those tracks, the ground 

 churned to deep, sticky mud by the hooves of the heavy 

 animals. I was in stout boots and gaiters. One had to be 

 in such going and one slipped about at every step. The 

 spikes and thorns of the bamboos kept catching my clothing, 

 in impatiently freeing which— no one, not even Job, could 

 keep patient under such conditions — the hands got torn, 

 not to mention other and more tender parts of the anatomy. 

 And through it all Anacondu glided on unconcernedly and 

 lightly, though one was glad to see that even he, carrying 

 the heavy rifle, got bogged at times. 



We plodded on in this fashion and two hours went by. 

 The herd was browsing slowly forward, and my experience 

 with bison showed me that we were closing up and might 

 run into it at any moment. 



We had dropped down a slight incline and entered a 

 dense mass of bamboos. Proceeding cautiously round a 

 great dense clump, Anacondu dropped quietly in his tracks. 

 I sat uncomfortably in mine, in a pool of water. But all 

 lassitude and disgust had now disappeared. I could see 

 from the man's face that we had reached the end of the 

 petty worries. Suddenly I heard a rustle as of a heavy 

 animal moving about. Listening intently, other sounds 

 came to my ears, and I realized that we had come up to, 

 and were very near, the herd. Cautiously raising myself I 

 peered ahead into the dense sea of green which encompassed 

 us, but could see nothing. Bison were ahead and bison 

 were on our right and left flanks. So much was certain. 

 Pushing the heavy rifle towards me and taking the light one 

 Anacondu glided forward like a snake and was immediately 

 engulfed. I waited, cocking the trigger of the double- 

 barrel cordite -500 express, a beautiful weapon I had 

 with me. 



I was glad of the respite, for I was shaking like a leaf, 



owing to the terrific exertions of the past two hours. This 



is ever the chief danger of bison tracking. The arduous 



nature of the work a long trek in the great heat entails 



I. 



