124 Leaves from an Indian Jungle. 



vanished. But when I cautiously raised myself and peeped 

 over the ground in front there was no sign of them. 

 After crossing to the edge of the further slope, and satisfy- 

 ing myself that the deer had really moved off, I sat down 

 and examined the hillsides beyond, and shortly came to 

 the conclusion that there was one line, and one only, which 

 a sambar would have taken. 



Going back a short way, and signalling np the men, who 

 were now fully 500 feet below in the Am khora, I thought 

 out a plan of campaign ; and in due time moved quietly 

 along the ascending ridge for about a quarter of a mile. 

 I then approached the edge once more, and found myself 

 occupying a capital position for a steady shot at anything 

 breaking out of the very likely-looking covert which filled 

 a precipitous kagar a deep cut furrow seaming the hill- 

 side half way between me and the men, who I could now 

 see were extending down its slopes. From the elevation 

 at which I now sat about 3,000 feet and, perhaps, 1,800 

 above the plain a charming panorama lay unfolded at my 

 feet. Ridge on ridge of queer, knife-edged saddle-backs of 

 the curious trap formation, a warm yellow in the light, with 

 deep purple shadows > from my feet the mountain-side 

 trended steeply down, clad with teak poles, salai thickets, 

 and clumps of small bamboo, to the valley, a sister glen to 

 the Am khora, (which now lay at my back), rising again to 

 the level Banur plateaux, yellow with long spear-grass ; 

 while, beyond the sharply defined chasms and ridges of the 

 hills across the Barhanpur valley, the cone-shaped peak of 

 the Chor Pahar cut the clear blue cold-weather sky a 

 bold wedge. 



Away to my right lay the level blue horizon of the plains, 

 the minute white walls of the magazine and other buildings 

 of Junglypur shining remotely distant in the morning sun, 



