On the Cotton Plains. 81 



that most of my narrow shaves have occurred. They have 

 been so many now that I can recollect few of the circum- 

 stances connected with them. 



One day I saw a sahib standing in the distance. He wore 

 a white hat with a spotted blue pagri, and was accom- 

 panied by a native in khaki, with whom he was in deep 

 consultation. I was so tickled that I did not take particular 

 care of myself, and the apparition approached : then, after 

 turning once more anxiously to the native, whom I dis- 

 tinctly heard say " Ap ki khushi" it bent its back, and, 

 assuming a stealthy gait, crept towards me. It had not 

 gone far when it suddenly remembered something, and, 

 retracing its uncomfortable way, took something from the 

 native and put it with a loud click in the rifle. 



Then it resumed its broken-backed approach. Fascinated 

 by this weird method of " stalking," I stared and stared, till 

 the figure rose and fumbled with its gun : then, as it was 

 possible that it might be pointed somewhere near me when 

 it exploded, I moved off. 



Bang ! and a fragment of an express bullet, ricochetting 

 off the hard ground, rushed shrilly by me. Bang ! and 

 another bullet whispered high over my head ; and in the 

 distance a line of women, picking cotton, stood up with 

 frightened faces. I glanced back. My sportsman was gaz- 

 ing sadly after me ! I have seen him do so many a time ; 

 and, later, I came to know him well. Many a dull half hour 

 has he enlivened ! I look for his white topi on Thursdays 

 and Saturdays as a relief to the monotony of my existence. 

 Once he brought a very fat sahib with him, who wounded 

 me ; but I got away, and am all right now. 



My last adventure was of a different type. One Thursday 

 I was making across a field some way behind my does, when 

 a slight movement caught my eye ; it was the topi of a 



