LUNCHEON DISTURBED. 185 



worse. To me the scent of the live buffalo is very offensive 

 at all times (except when in pursuit), but that of the dead 

 animal is so nauseous as to remain present in the nostrils for 

 days after the hunting is over ; in fact, it is nearly as disgust- 

 ing as that of a high-toned old boar, although that is so offen- 

 sive sometimes as to cause a delicate-stomached hunter to 

 dismount and pour out his grief piteously upon the bosom of 

 his mother earth, cursing swine in all their generations. 



The wild buffaloes and cattle of Sidhee gave L. and me a 

 taste of their quality one day about noon, while we were 

 resting and refreshing in an open glade, after a successful 

 morning. Our last stalk had been through a considerable 

 stretch of trees and bushes growing thickly together without 

 much undergrowth at that season, and it having been drawn 

 blank, and we naturally concluding that no animals would 

 follow up our wind, we piled arms and fell to upon our pro- 

 vender. A number of villagers and servants, who had fol- 

 lowed us, intent upon buffalo-beef, had come up, and were 

 squatted in groups, together with our gun-bearers and our 

 three " Shikarees " and their dogs ; some passing round the 

 social " kulkee," charged with tobacco and burning charcoal, 

 and others resting in the shade of trees, enjoying the deli- 

 ciously cool northerly breeze of December. Having break- 

 fasted, we were smoking the cheroot of contentment, when 

 L., throwing up his nose and snuffing the air, remarked that 

 he scented buffalo, and before our hands could take up our 

 rifles, and without further warning, a great mob of buffaloes 

 and wild cattle burst upon us, issuing out of the jungle be- 

 hind, which we had last traversed from end to end. L. and 

 I flung ourselves upon the earth, and escaped scathless, but 

 our paraphernalia, in the shape of picnic baskets, dishes, 

 plates, bottles, and glasses were scattered in a moment, as a 

 perfect hurricane of snorting heads and thundering hoofs 

 passed over us, and left us lamenting. One of our best 

 trackers was handsomely caught in the rear in full flight, and 

 was flung into a tree, from the branches of which he pro- 

 claimed his griefs in very un-bulbul-like strains. Another 



