102 DAYS AND NIGHTS OF SHIKAR 



fortunately, it was his old jhul. We never knew 

 what had happened, but only supposed he had been 

 attacked by the monkeys and had torn himself 

 away. 



Ned and I were held up in the Chota Zajnai 

 nullah for five or six solid days and nights by inces- 

 sant rain and low cloud and mist. The ground 

 was soaking, the bedding damp and cold; our 

 clothes were all clammy and we were thoroughly 

 uncomfortable. Our little mess tent had to be 

 nearly closed to keep out the weather. Bunker 

 was not at his best and did not, I am sorry to say, 

 smell of the sweetest, and Ned would persist in 

 calling him " Vinolia." 



One afternoon, after several days of such dis- 

 comfort, we were trying to enjoy our tea, when a 

 flutter was heard and something tumbled into the 

 tent and fell with a bump at our feet, and we saw 

 lying there a small hawk, drenched and incapaci- 

 tated by weather, that had been driven in by a gust 

 of wind. Of course Bunker was first in the field, 

 but was cautioned not to touch it, and we picked up 

 the bird and smoothed out his feathers. He showed 

 no fight and only made futile pecks at our fingers 

 after he had been fed with crumbs. Having no 

 caste to forbid it, he did not show any disinclination 

 to tea being spooned into his mouth by the hands 

 of a white man. We packed him up warmly in a 

 basket and the next day he seemed fairly recovered. 

 We tied a string to his leg, but he did not try to 

 get away. When the sun came out once more, it 

 looked so funny to see him sitting outside gazing at 



