THE NARBADA VALLEY. 59 



much of it, and it lacks variety. So I should think also 

 would be the case with much of the African sport we read of. 

 To the beginner in Indian sport, however, there is no pursuit 

 more fascinating. The game being nearly always within 

 sight, the excitement is maintained throughout the day's 

 sport. Simple as it seems, it takes a good man and a good 

 rifle to make much of a bag when the antelope have been 

 much disturbed. The old hand is apt to smile at the 

 enthusiasm of the "griff" when he dilates on the glories of 

 antelope-stalking ; but the time was when he too passed 

 through the stage at which the acquisition of a particular long 

 spiral pair of horns was more to him than the wealth of all 

 the Indies, and when nothing impressed him so profoundly 

 with the vanity of all human affairs as the miss of " a few 

 inches" under or over, which so frequently terminated the 

 weary stalk. Perhaps I may be allowed to quote a descrip- 

 tion of the pursuit of a master buck, written many years ago, 

 when I myself was in the throes of the " buck fever." 



" I had frequently seen in my rambles over the antelope 

 plains a more than ordinarily magnificent coal-black buck. 

 I had watched him for hours through my ' Dollond/ but my 

 most laborious attempts to reach him by stalking had as yet 

 proved futile. His horns were perfection, of great size, well 

 set on, twisted and knotted like the gnarled branch of an 

 old oak tree. As the sun glanced on his sable coat, it shone 

 like that of a racehorse fit to run for the Two Thousand 

 Guinea stakes in fact, he was the beau ideal of a perfect 

 black buck. Of course, the more difficult the task appeared, 

 the more determined was I that these superb horns should be 

 mine, and that in future I would disregard every buck except 

 the one. He was constantly attended by two does, to whom 

 he confidently entrusted the duty of watching over his per- 



