THE SPORT OF RAJAHS 

 up the nullah till he finds his road 

 barred by the fallen walls. Then he 

 turns and faces us, his little eyes 

 sparkling red with rage, blood well- 

 ing and glistening down his shoulder, 

 his broad nose dry and dusty, and 

 blood and slime dropping from 

 his panting jaws. His picture is 

 photographed on my mind, but the 

 photograph is an instantaneous one ; 

 for in a moment more his ears are 

 pricked, his mane is on end, and 

 he comes towards us at a sham- 

 bling trot ; at five yards distance 

 he changes to a gallop, and rushes 

 blindly at us. Our spears are low, 

 there is a shock, we are both hurled 

 back against the side of the ravine. 

 Then in the cloud of dust we see 

 the boar on his knees at our feet, 

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