A BONNIE BAG. 41 



How delighted I was ; I could almost have 

 hugged that nearly-naked, most odoriferous, grin- 

 ning little Gond ! Lighting a pipe, I sat down, 

 and kept gazing at the fallen bull's mighty form ; 

 noting the grand sweep of his horns, and the 

 richly-blended tints of black and brown of his 

 hide. However, it was no time for meditation, 

 for the sun was getting hot, and I was still a 

 couple of miles from camp and breakfast, for which 

 my inward man craved ; so, with a parting look, I 

 tore myself away, and gave my rifle to the Gond 

 to carry, taking from him in exchange my shot- 

 gun, into which I slipped a couple of cartridges 

 loaded with number six shot, on the chance of 

 picking up a jungle-fowl or something for the pot 

 on my way home. 



I had got within half-a-mile or so of the camp, 

 and was walking through some dry grass about a 

 foot high, when a muntjak, or barking deer, 

 jumped up, almost under my feet, so close that I 

 easily rolled him over with my right barrel ; as I 

 fired a pea-hen rose about thirty yards from me, 

 and got the contents of my left. I was just about 

 pleased. Five shots fired, and a bag of a bison, 

 two spotted deer, a muntjak, and a pea-hen was 

 one, I flattered myself, that would be hard to 

 beat. On arriving in camp I found my friend 

 had also made a capital bag, and he had got two 



