THE POETKY OF FOREST LIFE. — BISOX SHOOTING. 185 



tiling I liad been accustomed to. Sucli was Doraysawmy's style, 

 and be kept it up right along. 



During the first few days following our return to Moochpardi, 

 which is in the Kulungud forest, I sent my men all over the terri- 

 tory' searching for elephant signs. Every year pre^ious to that, 

 there had always been from one to three herds roaming about that 

 territory in October and November, but to the surprise of every 

 one, we found none at all. At first I stayed in camp, husbanding 

 my strength for the grand crisis when it should come, and everj' 

 day we kept hoping a good herd would pay us a visit. A week 

 after o\ir return I was attacked by hard chills, a high fever and a 

 hoiTible vomiting, which was repeated again and again, until I felt 

 as limp, exhausted, and dry as though I had been run through a 

 clothes-wringer. 



The quinine I took for the fever acted like tartar emetic, and this 

 time I actually threw up my jungle fever, for after the ninth inn- 

 ing (or rather outing), it left me suddenly and did not return in 

 full force for a month. 



It is strange how quickly one recovers from such sharp attacks 

 of fever. I always made it a rule to eat heartily right along, no 

 matter whether I felt hungry or not, and at the last I leaned upon 

 Bass' ale and port wine as if they were a paii- of crutches. Until 

 my last two months ujDon the hills, my habits had always been 

 strictly temperate, never using tobacco in any form, nor drinking 

 any kind of spirits, wine, or beer, or even tea or coffee when at 

 home, where good cold water is procurable. During my former 

 trips to the tropics I was never sick a day, nor took a dose of medi- 

 cine, but I took to coffee, temporarily. "When I was told, on reach- 

 ing India, that I would have to drink ale, or brandy-and-soda, or 

 else wine, right along, I said "Never," and for the first six months 

 I stuck to coffee, chocolate, and water. After three months of fever 

 and fasting I tried Bass' pale ale, and found it always created an 

 appetite. After a long, exhausting tramp through mud and rain, a 

 pint of that immortal stuff was equal to a four hours' rest. I 

 strongly recommend it to ever}' "temperance man " whose lot may 

 be cast in the jungles of the East Indies. To me it was a glorious 

 medicine, and whenever I was ready to drop down, it was always 

 ready to pick me up. 



While hanging on at Moochpardi, waiting for some elephants to 

 pay us a visit — there were plenty of them across the river in the 

 Government Leased Forest — we decided that we would never have 



