86 Leaves from an Indian Jungle. 



day is past. Abbas Khan and I mount to our hiding-place, 

 and the Korkus, having deposited their burdens, and bear- 

 ing their little gourd water-bottles, disappear up-hill, where 

 we long hear their feet crackling the great dry teak leaves, 

 in the warm still air. 



The rug is spread, havresack and water chdgal put 

 ready to hand, rifles and binoculars disposed handily, a few 

 extra cartridges laid in that little niche in the black rock 

 and we are ready. What a charm is in this delicious quiet, 

 this heavy scented air, and the curious .cries of the jungle 

 breaking the profound silence ! The little barbet has 

 changed his day " coppersmith " note for the no less mono- 

 tonous and everlasting nocturnal one of '* Ouic kur-kur !" 

 and, as the shadows deepen, a large fluffy mass sails noise- 

 lessly overhead, and settles on the gaunt arm of a dead tree; 

 answering a distant call by a deep " Whoo 1" 



I was lost in a reverie, watching the orange disc of the 

 full moon lift over a shoulder of the hills, when the 

 extreme right-hand corner of my eye caught a grey shadow 

 hesitatingly approaching among some rocks in the dry bed, 

 of the stream, and the glasses revealed a hyaena, nosing 

 about near the place where we had come down off the hill. 

 He then stood, cocking his strange pointed ears in our 

 direction for some time, but finally limped up right under 

 our rock a fine big fellow, with a good coat. By leaning 

 over we might have almost touched him with a stick. 

 After drinking he went off down-stream. 



Later, a little barking deer came rustling in the teak leaves 

 on the far side of the nala, and, down to the edge of the 

 water ; and another, further off, moving here and there, kept 

 up his funny little yap of " Aow ! * * * Aow !" Higher rose 

 the moon in a perfectly cloudless sky, and the gentle breaths - 

 of air died away until every stick and blade of grass stood 



