THE CHAEGE. 127 



hands, and a couple of coolies. Taking up 

 the track at the point where we left it the 

 evening before, we traced the bear for more 

 than two miles through a very thick difficult 

 jungle, when all signs were lost, and we 

 were brought to a stand-still. Poking 

 about, I happened to see a large rock over- 

 head, some little way up, through the 

 jimgle, and said, I would just go and see if 

 friend Bruin had come to an anchor there. 

 My old man, Bahadoor, who generally keeps 

 close to my coat-tails (that is where they 

 would be, if I had any, for in the hills I 

 always dress Puharrie fashion), I supposed 

 to be as usual behind me, and a young- 

 coolie was close to me on my left. I had 

 just got well under the rock, which was 

 about ten yards above me, when without 

 the slightest warning, out charged the old 

 bear, making an awful row ; growling 

 savagely, he came slap at me ; no rifle was 

 as usual put into my hand, but as he closed, 

 I faced him and up with my stick, he 

 turned (the old coward!) and with one blow 



