394 The Hunting Grounds 



log-fire, shaded from the evening dew by the canopy 

 of some gigantic forest-tree, and talk over the events 

 of the day or the hopes of the morrow. Then the 

 soothing cheroot and comforting can of grog are in- 

 deed luxuries, and old familiar airs and stirring tales 

 go round cheerily, carrying the heart back to happy 

 bygone scenes of home, and dear old friends, far 

 away in " Merrie England." None of my sporting 

 chums caring to accompany me in this trip to regions 

 marked in the best maps as " unknown tracts," I was 

 without companion, and time hung heavily on my 

 hands when not en route, or on the look-out for game, 

 so I was very glad when the Bey Effendi came to 

 consult me as to the most suitable arrangement for 

 the morrow's battue. He was accompanied by a very 

 intelligent young fellow of his tribe, who, whilst 

 watching the cattle out at pasture, had discovered the 

 lair of an immense bear, whose depredations had been 

 severely felt during the winter months, when, em- 

 boldened by hunger, he had carried off horses picketed 

 close to the " konac." 



I decided to beat him out, if possible, and, after a 

 long smoking-match and some talk with the Bey as 

 to the best plan of proceeding, he went to warn his 

 people to be in readiness to start at the first appearance 

 of dawn on the morrow, and I crept into my tent, 

 rolled myself up in my blankets, and, being tired, was 

 soon in a sound sleep, from which I was awakened 



