310 RIFLE AND ROMANCE 



and rode in search through the grassy hollows that only 

 twenty-four hours since had teemed with spotted deer. It 

 was as if yesterday we had beheld some fairy vision, some 

 illusory caprice of the brain. 



But soon were we to become aware of the reason of the 

 solitude so swiftly fallen on this favoured spot. 



As we approach the line of pools, what is that dark red 

 beast and another standing by the water's edge, while 

 yet more emerge from the grassy covert around ? 



Rich, deep red coats ; sharp snouts ; rounded prick ears ; 

 thick brushes, tipped with black. It is the red dogs the 

 poachers ! 



Out of the saddle sharp, and snatch the little rifle from 

 its bucket. Then quickly down behind that long grass. 

 As we raise our heads cautiously behind this little tree, 

 the dogs can be seen boldly regarding us. 



Bang ! Over rolls one, and they turn and hasten off. 

 Bang! again, and another twists side wise into the jungle, 

 where he is soon found and disposed of. 



In the distance the survivors can be heard as they move 

 off, uttering their strange, almost bird-like call "Phew ! 

 Phew ! " a call that is remarkably similar to that of the 

 chital hind when she seeks her wandered fawn. 



On another occasion I was prowling the jungles border- 

 ing the Sipna river one morning in late February. Rain 

 had fallen the previous night, and as I entered a beautiful 

 sequestered glen running at right angles to the main 

 valley, my attention was attracted by a number of vultures 

 sailing towards a point half a mile away ; whence also 

 came the raucous cawing of crows. Making my way 

 through the now sodden and silent leaves what a change 

 from the crackling and rustling of other days ! and the 

 long, dripping grass, which exhaled a pleasant herb-like 

 scent, I at length arrived at and peered over a little knoll. 

 Below me lay a little open clearing by the rocky bed of 

 the stream ; a tiny cascade fell into the head of a cool 



