98 By Mountain, Lake, and Plain 



After shooting forty couple, we ran out of cart- 

 ridges, and half the ground had not been shot ! 

 I have often groaned to think what the bag 

 might have been if we had had another 100 cart- 

 ridges apiece. What we ought to have done, 

 however, there is no use going into that. The next 

 day was hot and still, and we were not going to 

 waste the bit of snipe ground for which I had 

 been looking all my life, by going out on a 

 morning like that. The next was hotter and 

 stiller, and the spell lasted. After waiting a 

 week we went out with I think every snipe 

 cartridge in Seistan. The sequel recalls an 

 Indian story. I had gone to a jhil that I knew 

 and had proved to be a first - class snipe bog, 

 but that day found on it not one solitary snipe. 

 An English-speaking babu, whose acquaintance 

 I had made previously, came out from his village 

 which lay near to see the sport. " Well, Babu," 

 I said, " where are the snipe to-day ? " " Sar," 

 he replied, with an ingratiating smile, " I think 

 the snipe all gone away to pick up crumbs." 



It was thus with that ideal snipe ground in 

 Seistan, not one solitary bird was left. Perhaps 

 they too had gone to search for " crumbs." Who 

 can say ? 



