of the Old World. 95 



and I came across him in an extraordinary way. 



You may all perhaps remember poor old M of 



the th, the kindest-hearted fellow, the best shot, 

 and the coolest sportsman who ever pulled trigger, 

 and who came to such an unfortunate end. We 

 were great chums, and were always out together in 

 the jungle ; and to his intuition I must attribute my 

 knowledge of forest life, for, although always fond 

 of sport, I must confess I was but a griffin until he 

 took me in hand. Well, we were out together in 

 the Chettagunta jungles, about five years ago, in the 

 very hottest weather, and had fagged for three days 

 with very little success. There was no possibility of 

 * stalking/ for, in consequence of the great drought, 

 the leaves and twigs on the ground had become so 

 very dry and brittle that every step we took they 

 cracked underfoot so loudly that the game always 

 took the alarm before we could get within shot. 

 On account of the great heat, we had been expecting 



the monsoon to break every day, and M had 



observed that it was that day the 6th of June, and 

 that for several years past the hospital register showed 

 the monsoon had broken between the 6th and the 

 10th. As there was not a cloud to be seen on the 

 deep cerulean sky, I stated my opinion that we 

 should have no change of weather that day, and 

 away we went far into the deep jungle, where we 

 intended to sit up at night by a pool of water, near 



