ARRIVAL AT THE HUNTING GROUNDS 137 



Well, the tur was gone, and the ravines thoroughly 

 aroused. 



I soon discovered that Ali Ghirik was no sort of a 

 shikari, and had no notion of how to stalk game, of 

 the lie of land, or the ways of the wind. He was, 

 nevertheless, keen as mustard, and a great stickler for 

 the science of sport, for a set system of tactics. There 

 was always a precise moment for firing, and it came, he 

 said, when you were nicely and comfortably ready 

 and settled down to the job. When else should it 

 come ? If there was nothing left by that time to fire 

 at it was unfortunate, but at least the science of the 

 thing had been observed. He was like M. Jourdain, 

 with whom correctness in fencing was an obsession, and 

 his : " You had no business to hit me then. You must 

 never thrust in carte imtil 3'ou have thrust in tierce." 



There are such myriads of people who, as a sportsman 

 wittily put it, " cherish the delusion that in rifle shooting 

 all you need is the grip of the village blacksmith to 

 hold the weapon steady, and perfect visual powers 

 to enable you to align your sights correctly on the 

 animal." 



It was beyond the ken of our henchman's limited 

 understanding to regard a rifle as almost an organism 

 of whims and fancies, with quaint ways and artful 

 humours. Allah forbid ! That would be impious. 



We saw no more game for the rest of that unlucky 

 day. Nuff sed ! 



My cousins fared much better. Cecily bagged a 

 good tur with really topping horns, thirty-two inches 

 on the outer curve, and eleven in girth. Kenneth 



