182 Leaves from an Indian Jungle. 



and there on the rocks by their satisfied owners. Whether 

 it was the change in tone of the cawing of Corvus, ever 

 watchful on the tree on the bank, a slant of betraying wind, 

 or an instinctive feeling of impending danger, I do not 

 know,, but, after about five minutes, there was a sudden 

 stampede in my direction ; so calling to my orderly to use 

 the -577 with the best possible effect on the brutes, the 

 sharp crack of the '303 sounded the death-knell of one of 

 the rascals, and another escaped hard hit. I regret to say 

 that the '577 did not have a look in at all, for I should 

 have liked to exterminate the whole gang. 



While skinning the wild dog, a couple of Korkus arrived 

 and asked to be permitted to take away all that remained 

 of the sambar. From these jungle-men I gathered that 

 they, in common with the crow and vulture, were 

 very frequently supplied with meat by these marauding 

 packs. 



Although counting myself lucky at having had this 

 glimpse into the inner life of the jungle, I should have 

 liked still better to have been in at the death. It must 

 have been a fine sight the failing deer making, with the 

 instinct of his race, for the last resource (water), the 

 fierce attack of the hungry dogs, and the final struggle in 

 the pool. A scene well worthy of the brush. 



Again the scene is changed. I am walking up the old 

 Belkhera glen. The way lies up the damp stony bed 

 of the stream, between short steep scarps that enclose it 

 on either hand. Just before turning off to ascend the 

 valley side, up the abominably steep Torghat, I heard 

 something moving up-hill, and, after a while, spied the 

 horns of a young stag sambar showing now and then 

 above the long grass. He was creeping quietly along the 

 hillside, and I watched him for a time, wondering where 



