HOG HUNTERS' HALL 127 



once he was roused, as the villages were surrounded 

 by stubble fields, but we had many an amusing scurry 

 round the village, down the streets, and back again, 

 with natives flying in every direction and clustering 

 in the boughs of trees to see the hated pig killed. 

 These natives take to trees like monkeys the moment 

 they get a panic. 



On March 30 and 31 we had bad luck, losing 

 two horses. Meade and I were hunting a pig in 

 some thick jhow, Meade was just in front of me, 

 and I thought he was on the pig when I was charged 

 from my left rear — a direction which I think the 

 cavalry training book terms " disadvantageous 

 to the man attacked," — the first that I knew about 

 it was getting a bang on the right foot, and my 

 horse nearly falling and limping. The pig had cut 

 him from hock to stifle on the inside of the off hock. 

 I led him out into the open, the blood spurting from 

 his artery, and blew my whistle, and put my hat 

 on my spear. Presently Norman came up with 

 his box and we put on a tourniquet. We got some 

 elephant tackle from camp and improvised slings 

 on a convenient mango -tree. This took us three 

 or four hours. We left a syce, forage, and water 

 with the horse, but he kicked himself out of the 

 slings, and bleeding recommenced. We then threw 

 him and shackled his legs, and again stopped the 

 bleeding, but during the night he kicked about so 

 that it broke out again, and he eventually died 

 sixteen hours after he was cut. The following 

 afternoon in a fast gallop from a village, Weinholt's 

 pony fell over a small hiind between the paddy- 

 fields and broke his neck. 



These were the only horses that we lost out 

 of our thirty-six ; only one remained sound through- 



