116j MODERN PIG-STICKING 



gram, goor, and milk, made a successful essay in 

 the morning to swim the flood. 



We had two days of somewhat indifferent sport 

 with continued hours of soaking rain. Whenever 

 it cleared up we used to beat the uplands or any 

 ground that would allow a horse to stand up. Pig 

 were about, and we killed a few. 



While beating a small thorn bagh we put out 

 quite a nice pig after several unsuccessful beats. 

 He had three hundred yards to make his point. I 

 was perfectly posted, and to my great shame the 

 hog got away past me untouched. I had become 

 bored, and was busy bullying a caterpillar when I 

 suddenly grasped the fact that the pig had passed 

 me : it was too late, and the boar got down a steep 

 place two spears' length ahead of me. 



This was on our last day but one, and we killed 

 no pig. In the evening it cleared. I quote from 

 an account I wrote. It is of no value, but may 

 possibly show more or less what our feelings were 

 at the time. 



In spite of a blank day we enjoyed the night. The rain 

 had cleared away, and was followed by a perfect evening. 

 Away in the west the afterglow shone out red-gold in 

 purple setting. The graceful silhouettes of the village 

 buildings in the distance, and the dim aisles of tree trunks 

 with their cobweb of tent ropes faded gradually from 

 purple to grey, and from grey into blackness of the night. 

 Overhead were the masses of foliage with their myriad 

 fire-flies, and the wonderful glory of the Indian starlight. 



We listened to N's gramophone. We enjoyed Russian 

 melodies, and the old English songs. Forgotten were the 

 many disappointments, the long blank days. We talked 

 but of great hunters of the past, of good days that had 

 been. We wondered whether any of us would ever see 

 the Kadir again. We knew that in all our wanderings its 



