ON THE COTTON PLAINS 161 



Don't come skulking after me in a bullock-cart. Don't 

 wait for me by the tank in the hot weather. And, should 

 my head ever grace your walls, do not forget the many 

 days of quiet sport I have afforded you on my wide rich 

 plains, the glamour of which will surely return to you, 

 even amidst the stirring memories of more exciting days. 



Shoot none of my immature brethren, sahib ! If you 

 must kill for food, take a few of my yeld-does ; I can 

 spare them else how think you will the country raise 

 bucks like me ? 



M 



