48 THE OUT-STATION ; OR, 



from the ghost of a path we have been following, we 

 are immediately afterwards crawling and scrambling 

 as best we can, up sharp and almost perpendicular 

 rocks, our gun slung over our shoulder by a leathern 

 strap, whilst we employ both hands in holding on at 

 every diminutive tuft of verdure that pops its unsus- 

 pecting little existence out of the fissures of the pre- 

 cipice ; till, reaching an inviting-looking apex, we 

 probably find we have to slide down a declivity equal 

 in length to the one w T e have surmounted, with 

 another and more difficult ascent on the opposite 

 side. 



These places swarm with hares (which, by-the-by, 

 are much more like rabbits), and innumerable are the 

 jungle fowl that get up on all sides of us ; these birds 

 resemble in a great degree our domestic fowls, ex- 

 cepting that they possess a remarkably wild game-y 

 flavour, and their plumage is considerably handsomer ; 

 that of the jungle cock is magnificent. 



I used to constitute these birds the chief article of 

 my larder, and the way I always managed to secure 

 a fowl-curry when I wanted it, was in this wise 



(" Foul" play, I dare say you will call it, reader !) 



I had a perfect trump of a little bantam-cock that 

 I used to tether about ten yards from the skirt of the 

 jungle, in the dusk of the evening, and ensconcing 

 myself in the boughs of some sturdy tree about twenty 

 yards distant, I waited patiently the result. 



The decoy would presently set up a most deter- 



