CHAPTER I 



AN ELEPHANT HUNT IN CEYLON 



IT had been raining heavily for several days. 

 Our stopping place at Cantalei, a small 

 native village, could not under such cir- 

 cumstances be described as a paradise. 



Then one morning a native hunter arrived 

 with the news that he had found fresh elephant 

 tracks. 



We started at once in a motor-car. The 

 whole of Ceylon is intersected with a marvellous 

 network of first-class motor roads. The only 

 drawback is that these are, in places, very 

 narrow. 



Our ride was a short one. We soon left the 

 car to follow the forest path to a point where 

 the track led into the jungle. Anglo-Indians 

 speak of any kind of thick wood as jungle. 

 The name has nothing whatever to do with 

 the kind of trees of which such a forest is 



B 2 3 



