no DIARY OF A SPORTSMAN NATURALIST 



" You won't get them off till their owners come, sahib. 

 No one else can move them when they take hold like that." 



I said nothing but turned to the poor wounded dog. A 

 glance showed that nothing could be done for him. Poor 

 plucky brute. I bent over him and poured some water 

 over his mouth and head as he lay gasping. His brave 

 eyes turned to me and I thought I read a gleam of gratitude 

 in them. And then a film spread over them and he was 

 gone. 



He may have been only a pi-dog. But his heart and spirit 

 were pure gold. 



