192 RIFLE AND ROMANCE 



crunching up the jdm&ns, stones and all, sniffing, sighing, 

 gobbling, grunting ! 



In my hand I held a borrowed rifle, my own trusty 

 friend not being just at that time available. As I raised 

 the hammer, humouring it with pressure on trigger, it 

 gave out a soft click. Bhdlti paused an instant. Then 

 he slobbered again. Yes, I had him fair. Making allow- 

 ance for the hair on his back, the night-sight, clear white 

 under the moon, lay straight on his shoulder. I never felt 

 more confident of bagging my beast ; and I took special 

 pains this time, for the tribe of Bhdhi had not long since 

 put me in their debt I owed a fatal grudge. Very slowly 

 and steadily I pressed that trigger. Bang! . . . 



A lot of nasty white smoke hung in the way, as I 

 lowered the weapon to gloat over my prey. There was 

 a shuffling noise. The bear was not there! A black 

 shadow shot away into the trees with a " gurr whirr 

 gurr" : there came the sound of stampeding in the leaves ; 

 then a "Whoof!" as he struck against something hard 

 in his hurry. The bear was gone ; and as he went more 

 bears rushed away in various directions from the far 

 jdmun trees. A couple of humping backs went bumping 

 away in the moonlight. All had gone ! And they never 

 returned. 



Next morning revealed a gory tuft of long hair near 

 the half-eaten plums, with a fraction of skin attached. 

 Farther up the path led the tracks of a tigress, and they 

 met or nearly met those of a bear. Here, then, was 

 the explanation of the hurry of the first visitor to me 

 under the plum trees. 



