Reminiscences of Jungly pur. 147 



there, one of their trunks standing red and frayedthe 

 work of a sambar stag who has been cleaning the " velvet " 

 off his itching horns against it. 



As we climb up slowly out of the deep valley, there 

 stretches out a rolling mountain region that is all our own, 

 wander as we will, hunt as we will, for mile on mile 

 in every direction. Water is now plentiful even up here, 

 and often cne stumbles on a lotdn, or marshy hole, 

 screened by tall red grass, where the big stags " soil " 

 nightly in the mire. 



At the northern end of the long Belkhera glen, and sepa- 

 rated by the pass leading from it into the Patoli valley, 

 stand the two Jhakras (barra and chota), their flat summits 

 rising to a height of 3,500 feet. Far below their northern 

 slopes lie some distant green patches, which are the 

 scattered crops raised by the Korku s of Patoli. To those 

 crops the truculent stag, the watchful hind, and the callow 

 long-limbed fawn descend, together with the shades of night. 

 From his perch in the night- watcher's machdn the indignant 

 Korku hears the breaking of the succulent heads of jawari, 

 as the deer pull them from their stalks : frantically he yells, 

 and whacks his empty kerosine tin : from other fields 

 comes the mournful clacking of more elaborate wooden rat- 

 tles : the nocturnal marauders beat a hurried retreat, crush- 

 ing many a long millet stalk to the earth as they go to 

 resume operations in neighbouring fields. The Korku nods 

 drowsily again, a forlorn, black, blanketted silhouette 

 against the stars : the night wears slowly on, gradually 

 chilling to the dawn. By the first faint harbingers of 

 dawn in the eastern sky a dark shape is seen approaching 

 the lower slopes of the hill. It halts a moment ; then a 

 massive pair of antlers show against the pale horizon as it 

 resumes its leisurely way. Half way up the side of Chota 



