112 MODERN PIG-STICKING 



before he was bagged, and accounted for no less than six 

 falls among his five hunters. 



Indeed a merry day. Eight falls and only two pig 

 ridden. 



A pleasant day I can recall was in May 1906. 

 We started early and beat a beautiful grass country. 

 A typical day of line hunting ; with the steady 

 silent line of coolies going quietly through the long 

 yellow grass, and with the riders, all old hands, 

 behind, every nerve of horse and man taut, ready 

 to spring into instant action at sight of pig or sound 

 of magic " Woh jata." It was a piece of country 

 we wished to hunt lightly, so we only killed four 

 boar, though there were many pig about. The last 

 pig gave us an amusing run. B and I were so busy 

 riding each other off, that for a brief moment M, 

 who was mounted on a slow and inferior animal, 

 got in and speared to his delight and our mutual 

 disgust. 



The weather was poisonous, a real hot day, with 

 a scorching wind and a dust storm. The others 

 had to go in, and I envied them when I thought of 

 the iced drinks awaiting them. I hacked on to 

 shoot a panther some twenty miles away. I 

 passed my kit en route, took over my rifle, and 

 went on again. As I got to my destination, a 

 patch of dak jungle half a mile long, at about 3 

 P.M., I could hear the panther " sawing " loudly. I 

 went to a village close by, got a drink from the 

 well, which was very brackish, met my shikari, and 

 went off to sit up at once. My machan as usual 

 was on the ground, hidden in a bush. My goat 

 was tied eight feet away in front of me. My 

 shikari had gone, and I had hardly loaded my 

 rifle when the panther came out from my left 



