HUNTING & SHOOTING IN CEYLON 



in the river, and on making my way to the edge of the 

 steep bank, there I saw the bear, hurt to death, trying to 

 scramble across over rocks and trees more or less covered 

 by the pretty swift current. A shout brought Garrick and 

 the men to me, and we soon knocked out what little 

 life it had left, but we had a hard job dragging it out 

 of the torrent and up the steep bank. We left it by the 

 side of the road and made our way to the rest-house, 

 only 3 miles away, I, incidentally, being nearly carried 

 away by a flood when crossing one of the small streams 

 flowing across the road it had been a trickle in the 

 morning, and was now a torrent like a mill-race. We 

 went back for the skin next day, but the weather con- 

 tinued so wet we could not attempt to dry it, so had to 

 let it go after saving the claws and skull. 



Curiously enough we had seen the tracks of two bears 

 that morning, they having crossed the road, and I had 

 remarked to Garrick that there was a chance we might 

 meet one on the way back if the rain kept on. 



Such chance meetings are distinctly few and far between, 

 and to be prized accordingly. As I said before, the 

 wet season is the time when such meetings are possible, 

 but the discomforts of travel and camp during the rains 

 deter most men from trying a trip, though it is out and 

 away the best time of the year for all kinds of shooting. 



I once beguiled a bear with a seductive trail of honey, 

 which at least made sure of its visiting the water-hole 

 I was watching at. The scene was a huge mound of rock 

 rising above the plain of forest, and I was watching at a 

 water-hole at one side of it. There were several other 

 small water-holes scattered over this rock, and these my 

 men had laboriously filled with stones, leaving only our 

 hole available. 



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