164 STALKS ABROAD 



it was too dark ! ), as we wanted to get at the mugger 

 while taking his siesta, and the sun was already high. 

 The canal bank brought us to a stop, so we slanted 

 off amid the murmuring reeds and stunted thorn- 

 bushes until the river forced us to turn. Then, as 

 they say, a curious thing happened. Beneath a 

 straggly mimosa loomed a large green object. We 

 investigated at a safe distance. Indian fauna were, 

 it is true, strange to us, but we had never even 

 heard of anything like this. We glanced at the 

 robbers. Their intelligence was aroused, but only by 

 the customary, permanent and ill-concealed desire for 

 backsheesh. We made a cautious advance, and the 

 glistening green object behind the tree moved slightly. 

 " Memsahib ! " exclaimed a chorus of robbers. B/obert 

 and I looked at each other. We were not experienced 

 in the language, but we knew enough Kipling to 

 realise what a " Memsahib " was ; still, we could see 

 nothing save this weird green thing from which there 

 suddenly protruded the head and neck of a white 

 and tan pie dog. The mystery seemed about to 

 clear ; we made a further cautious advance. The 

 green object resolved itself into an umbrella. Com- 

 fortably ensconced within its friendly shade was a 

 mixed trio. The pie dog constituted the first figure 

 of the trinity, and a tin of Huntley and Palmer's 

 biscuits the next. The third was a young lady, 

 having a small-bore rifle lying across her knees, who 

 gazed hungrily at the river. The pie dog regarded 

 us with ill-concealed curiosity. The young lady never 



