TACKLING A TUSKER. 51 



lingly drive your game for you for a sum equiva- 

 lent to about threepence per diem, and no lunch; 

 fill your cartridge-bag, take your stand at the end 

 of a strip of cover, and blaze away to your 

 heart's content at rocketing jungle-fowl, or black 

 partridge, with the excitement varied occasionally 

 by a hog-deer or a muntjak cantering past, or an 

 old peacock skimming over you, his metallic-like 

 bronze, green, and gold plumage flashing and 

 gleaming in the eastern sun. 



But, ' revenons a nos moutons,' or rather ' a 

 nos elephans.' As I said before, eight days of 

 my leave had elapsed, and I felt rather glum at 

 the prospect of having to return to the dull 

 routine of station life without some trophy 

 worthy of my rifle, or at all events being able to 

 say I had had a shot at some real big game. I 

 was sitting outside my tent after dinner cogitating 

 over a pipe and lamenting my bad luck, when I 

 perceived Ramiah approaching by the dim light 

 cast by the embers of the camp-fire, now gradu- 

 ally dying out. After due obeisance, he spoke 

 thus, in a hushed whisper, as if afraid of being 

 heard : 



c Gurreepurwur ' (protector of the poor), c he is 

 here.' 



6 What !' I exclaimed, starting up. ' What do 

 you mean ?' 



E2 



