ioo RIFLE AND ROMANCE 



I could tell you many another tale of Dadu and Khatu, 

 the Korkus, shikaris in the old days, but now well, 

 flesh is scarce in these regions, and in response maybe to 

 a knowing look from the ' Jamadar sahib ' they take their 

 long bandt'iks from the thatch and enter the bandi. Sambar, 

 whether stag, hind, or fawn, is good ; but a fat young 

 bison-cow wah ! 



But the wild dogs ! 



It was at the end of the fierce summer drought, when 

 the first premonitory storms had grumbled for some time 

 over the hills and great violet-black masses of heavy rain- 

 cloud came trailing up from the south-west. A fitful wind, 

 moisture-laden, blew up the khdra, and the cool grey 

 morning tempted me to loiter under the trees, which, in 

 anticipation of their approaching function, had put forth 

 a fresh head of green young leaves. 



A light pattering sounded behind me. I turned in 

 surprise to see the lean head of an old wild bitch quickly 

 withdrawn in the grass ! Then came a yap, and a scamper- 

 ing in the jungle ; then another yap ; and paralysed with 

 fear for a moment, I laid my antlers craftily back and 

 crept away at right angles. In vain ! A long line of my 

 fierce little hunters were extended in a fan, and overlap- 

 ping me, were swiftly closing in ! 



Turning, I lumbered up the khora, and, breaking into 

 a panic-stricken gallop, glanced behind to see the horrid 

 mute line of leaping, skulking red forms pouring from the 

 woods in grim earnest. 



What a chase ! Climbing over spurs, dashing down the 

 far side, scattering the clucking spur-fowl, bursting through 

 the brittle jungle ! 



Once I sought to turn aside, but their flank was thrown 

 swiftly forward, and headed me back. Realising that the 

 easily loping brutes behind were driving me as they listed, 

 I grew desperate and made a sudden dash for a side glen ; 

 at that the scraggy old bitch I had first seen came up 



