A MOONLIGHT SHOT. 5 



i bouquet de negre ' exhaled from my native at- 

 tendant's greasy body made the vigil anything 

 but a pleasant one. 



Good reader, if you are of the type of the gal- 

 lant general or worthy civilian I have alluded to, 

 this chapter, I honestly tell you, will interest you 

 but little ; so, if you read thus far, skip the rest, 

 and save me the scornful remarks you would be 

 sure to make anent it, for there is no thrilling 

 element of excitement to be found in these pages, 

 and they might only weary you. On the other 

 hand, if you are one of those who can have the 

 patience to read the description of a night's sport 

 told as a ' plain unvarnished tale ' by one who 

 has had but scant experience in the fields of liter- 

 ature, and whose hand is more accustomed to the 

 rifle and spear than the pen, fill another pipe, and 

 as you read let your mind accompany me whilst 

 I detail for your edification my first experience 

 of a moonlight shot. 



Imagine me therefore one night, towards the 

 middle of March, after a good dinner, making my 

 final arrangements before leaving camp, which was 

 pitched at a place called Bansolee in the Berar jun- 

 gles. My shikari, yclept Lutchman, had informed 

 me, during the morning, of the existence of a pool 

 of water in the dry bed of a river only some three- 

 quarters of a mile from my camp which, by the 



