114 MODERN PIG-STICKING 



His (the pig's, the horse never had one) mission in 

 life was fulfilled. My syces came to me ; they said 

 that one of their ambitions had been to own a little 

 wild pig, it would make a charming pet. Would 

 I give it them ? I did. A week later, not seeing 

 the little pig, I asked where he was. They had 

 eaten him. 



I have not touched on the camp part of the life, 

 nor will I do so now at any length. 



Yet we, too, have our pleasant surroundings at 

 times. It is not all a land of heat and thirst. 

 The long motor drive or train journey, with 

 anticipation best of all companions, is always good. 

 Pleasant is it to ride the long hack alone through 

 the Kadir to camp ; to look up some old village 

 friend, and to recall past runs and incidents, how 

 well Q went here, there X fell, and here again what 

 a shocking mess one made of it. You get to the 

 big trees and the white tents, enjoy a tumbler of 

 boiling tea with a touch of whisky in it, and after- 

 wards a quiet stroll round the horses, and a chat 

 with the shikaries. 



Next morning you wake at dawn. Perhaps you 

 join in our old pastime of trying to see sun, moon, 

 and star at once. You can hear the syces busy 

 with the horses. Men move briskly, for there is a 

 hoar frost on the ground, and the chota hazri tea 

 is welcome. Outside camp you hear two black 

 partridge cocks wrangling. You slip on a pair of 

 boots and sally out in your pyjamas to join in the 

 discussion. Then, after an excellent breakfast, 

 away you go to hunt. 



When the hunt is over and you have seen to 

 your horses, perhaps your shikari takes you to 



