OLD EMAM THE AFRICAN. 43 



negro in the wilds of this forest, but I was told there were 

 several villages in this neighbourhood inhabited by descen- 

 dants of Africans, supposed to be fugitive slaves and deserters 

 from the hosts that formerly invaded southern India. Emam 

 had all the appearance of a pure negro or seedee, like the 

 coal stokers you meet with in the P. and O. steamers. 

 Besides Emam, we hired another man, Modeen by name, who 

 had a deal to learn to be as perfect as the old man ; however 

 he was not a bad young fellow. I killed my first bison with 

 him ; it was a fine young bull with pretty horns, but nothing 

 to what I killed in after years, though the grand expressions 

 I make use of in my journal, such as "bleeding monster" and 

 so on, show how proud I was at the time of bagging him. 

 He required several shots, and I dropped him dead when he 

 was about to charge. I also killed my first sambur stag on 

 this trip, a poor "beastie" as they would say in the High- 

 lands, but I evidently did not think so at the time. 



We only remained ten days in the forest as our great 

 ambition was to get a tiger, and our best chance of doing so 

 was in the ravines and jungles beyond the Dandilly forest. 

 We had fair sport during the ten days, and I enjoyed the 

 stalking immensely, especially when I had old Emam 

 with me. 



A curious incident occurred one day when I was out 

 with Modeen. We struck the fresh track of a bull bison, 

 followed it up, and came to where he had entered a patch of 

 grass of some extent, and about six feet high. We stood on 

 the edge for a minute or two peering in, when about fifteen 

 yards from us I saw the grass twitching from side to side, very 

 much as I should think it would do if a tiger was whisking 

 his tail before he made up his mind to spring ; I kept my eye 



