26 DIARY OF A SPORTSMAN NATURALIST 



made by innumerable frogs and night birds and the drone 

 and hum of millions of insects filled the night air with an 

 extraordinary medley of sounds as we made our way across 

 the paddy fields by that most aggravating mode of pro- 

 gression, walking along the bunds. The native, born and 

 bred to it, proceeds with such ease, whilst the European 

 stumbles about on the often greasy and invariably narrow 

 surface, the constant " cuts " made to Jet the water 

 through, necessitating a frequent change of step or jump, 

 adding to the annoyance. There is only one thing more 

 aggravating to my knowledge and that is having to ride 

 along them. 



We proceeded in this fashion for an hour or more, now 

 and then following a village road for a short distance or 

 going through a sleeping village itself, when the whole 

 village pi-dog pack would turn out and bay at us, setting 

 the jackals wailing in the distance and even waking up the 

 village chowkidar or watchman, who ever sleeps his soundest 

 during his hours of supposed duty. 



At last we arrived at a slight rise in the ground with a 

 clump of trees situated on it. Here Bishu wanted me to 

 take up my station. He pointed to a low range of forest- 

 covered hills dimly looming up about a quarter of a mile 

 away. " That's where the stag spends the day, sahib. He 

 regularly passes here at dawn, usually with one doe, and if 

 he is down to-night we should see him." We were, in fact, 

 on one of the deer " runs." 



A light mist was hanging over the paddy fields, in which 

 the water lay deep in parts, the green heads of the paddy 

 showing above it. A narrow village path ran a circuitous 

 course from the little knoll where we were to the forest-clad 

 ridge. It was partly by this village path that the stag 

 usually returned after his nightly foray into the fields. 

 Bishu wanted me to take up a position to command this 

 path. That would be simple, the only difficulty appeared 

 to be the mist. It was light now, but should it get thicker 

 it would be almost impossible to get a shot unless the stag 

 walked right on to us. I was not very keen on a shot of 

 this description, however, and staying here meant limiting 

 myself to the chance of seeing one stag only, and that 

 problematical. I determined, therefore, to make for the 

 hills in front of me, and this, in spite of Bishu's opposition, 

 we did, proceeding there by a circuitous course. On reaching 



