CHAPTER XVIII 



GOOD-BYE 



AND now, friend, it is time that I bid you " Good- 

 bye." I trust that you will pardon the various 

 imperfections of this book and realize that the 

 shadowy ego of the writer is but a means for trying 

 to tell you of this great Indian sport ; a medium 

 such as a painter might use when trying to paint 

 his picture, all in vain though it be. 



I can only hope your view of the book will be 

 that of my old friend F., he of the tiger. " Well, 

 well," said he, slapping me on the shoulder, "poor 

 old W., so you are writing a book. Never mind, 

 I'll buy a copy." 



For the rest, if you have not " heard the East 

 a-calling," if you have not seen the grey boar die, 

 my one hope is that anything my friends and I have 

 written may urge you to visit the great plains and 

 rocky hills of our wild Indian jungles and partake 

 of their wilder sports. You will never regret it ; 

 days spent with horse and spear live on in the 

 memory, they are not measured by their fleeting 

 |j hours. 



In after years as you sit, perchance, in some less 

 \ happy spot smoking your pipe before the fire, the 

 i old scenes shall rise again before you. You shall, 

 f ( it may be, take once more the old grey road and 



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