230 MODERN PIG-STICKING 



do was to ride her in between the man or woman who was 

 being chased, and draw him after me, and this I did ever 

 so many times. The old mare would canter with the 

 bear just out of reach, but when I tried to stop her and spear 

 overhand the bear always roared just before he seized, 

 and off the old mare would go again. I am not a very 

 strong horseman, a bigger and stronger man might have 

 held her. This went on, it seemed to me, for ages, and 

 once we passed down the main street of a hill village. In 

 the end a gun was brought up, and I had to shoot the bear 

 who by then was very slow and groggy, but I cannot claim 

 to have speared him. He was a big male bear in fair coat, 

 but nothing like the first one. In this case I feel sure that 

 a better horse would have enabled me to give a fatal spear. 

 As it is I don't understand why I did not. I speared exactly 

 where I meant to, and the spear went well home it seemed 

 to me. I sometimes think the old mare really stopped 

 before I got there, and perhaps the spear did not go in as 

 far as I thought ; also I know bears are very hard to kill. 

 Anyhow the result at first was nothing but noise, and the 

 bear did not seem to me to be any the worse for it until 

 shortly before the gun came, and by then he was decidedly 

 sick. This bear looked awfully funny scrambling along 

 behind me with great curved forearms ready to grab the 

 mare. 



My third effort was in about April 1909. Four or five 

 of us were out after pig, and whilst beating a rocky gorge 

 word came up, " A bear is coming." I could hardly believe 

 it as the gorge is the home of bears, and full of caves and 

 holes ; however the shikaries had seen the bear and put 

 stops over the holes, and she came out. 



I had out that day my old Arab, Rustom, who was 

 even then a little shy of pig, though still the best I had ever 

 seen, a little cobby grey waler mare about 13.3, another 

 pony, a wild silly little fool, very staunch to pig, but I did 

 not fancy her straight shoulders over rocks, and a beautiful 

 little country-bred pony about 13.3 called Colonel. 

 This pony was bought by my brother in the Himalayas 

 from a missionary, chiefly, I think, out of pity, as he had 



