1 6 GUN, RIFLE, AND HOUND. 



thence it is only a two hours' run to Sendra, a little 

 Rajput village in British territory, lying at the foot of 

 the barren-looking Beawar Hills. Here I took up my 

 quarters at the dawk bungalow an indifferent one 

 and rarely used. 



The shikaris report was that the tiger was to be 

 found in the hills to the north of the railway line, which 

 was sufficiently vague. I sent instructions to the 

 headman of the village to furnish me with good 

 beaters for next day, and not caring to lose the 

 afternoon, I took my rifle, and with the shikari pro- 

 ceeded to some jungles on the south side of the line. 

 After crossing this, we left the high-road, and taking 

 a rough native track arrived at a hamlet of a few 

 huts. Leaving these behind, we reached a small 

 expanse of cultivated ground, surrounded by an amphi- 

 theatre of jungle-clad hills. I at once decided that 

 here, at any rate, it would be a matter of great 

 difficulty to get a tiger out, and that a regular army 

 of beaters and half-a-dozen guns would be required. 

 I found out the next day that the hills to the north are 

 much less densely covered with vegetation. 



We worked over this country till dark but saw 

 nothing. The time of day rendered it unlikely that 

 we should do so, but when out shooting I make it 

 a rule to leave no stone unturned. We found plenty 

 of recent traces of sambur, which confirmed part of 

 the shikari s story. 



When darkness fell, we were still far from the 

 bungalow, and it was rather a weary trudge home. 

 However, we met two natives with a tattoo (country 



