A DAY'S SHOOTING ON THE NILGIRIS. 435 
pretty early, and what lovely views we get over the Downs and away to the 
** Kundahs ’’ as we drive along to our destination ! 
Shortly after starting we pick up Anthony who is waiting at the cross-roads 
near his hut ; it gives him a certain amount of prestige to be seen by the beaters 
driving out with the Sahibs instead of walking it with them ; and in about an 
hour, the gods having been kind to us and no accident having occurred, we 
arrive at the Forester’s Hut. But we are not “there” yet ; and now we are 
faced with a very steep though short bit of hill, up which the horses stolidly 
decline to drag the gharry so long as we are in it ; so there is nothing to do but 
get out and all shove behind ! eventually after much free advice from everyone 
to every one else and much urging on the horses we manage to get the gharry 
to the top of the incline and then we have only a short mile further to go 
before reaching a spot where the road ends and numerous paths begin. Here 
we are met by the beaters, a miscellaneous crew of old men and boys and of 
course the shikari’s dog, a beast called Rover which acts up to its name, ever 
racing madly through the sholas and over the hills if not led on a string, No use 
warning Anthony not to bring the beastly dog ; he apparently thinks the party 
is incomplete without it and even if he keeps it hidden in the back ground at 
the start it is sure to turn up before we have gone very far. 
Leaving the gharry there against our return at about 4-30 p.m., I take the 
gun and put a few cartridges in my pockets, C. takes nothing but cigarettes and 
a stick ! and the shikari carries the cartridge-bag and snipe-stick and we start 
down one of the paths followed by the beaters and the chokra carrying the tiffin- 
basket. Presently we see ahead a small “ shola ”’ (patch of jungle) and, while 
C. and I take up our position on one side of it, Anthony goes round the corner te 
spot any game that may break out from that side and the beaters climb the hill 
ready on the shikari’s whistle to advance through the shola towards me, yelling 
and beating the trees and bushes as they come. No luck here and the first 
beat of the day draws a blank so we move on to another shola, a bigger one about 
half a mile away. Through this a sluggish stream runs with muddy pools at its 
exit such as “ cock” love ; this is where Anthony says he saw one a few days 
ago so I send him to reconnoitre while we others sit down for a bit. We can see 
him gingerly approach the stream, carefully thrusting the bushes aside so as to 
make no sound and peering down at the muddy parts to try and find the tell- 
tale signs of the “‘ cock ”’ having been on the feed there—holes drilled here and 
there by its bill when searching for worms, &c., and the imprint of its toes in the 
mud, for it must be remembered that ‘“‘ cock” do not necessarily stay long in 
one place, they move about according to the food supply and it does not mean 
that because one was seen at a certain spot yesterday it will be there to-day. 
We have not long to wait however before Anthony makes a sign for me to 
come along, which means that he has found what he was looking for, and he 
shows me where he wants me to stand, at a spot from which I can command 
both sides of the stream in case the ‘‘ cock ’’ emerges on this side or that. 
The beaters meanwhile know what they have been taught by me to do on such 
occasions—they range themselves in a line at right angles to the edge of the shola 
and to a depth inside it of some 30 yards and when all is ready and they have 
heard the shikari’s signal they move forward quietly, making no more noise 
than tapping the bushes now andthen. This is quite enough to flush the ‘‘ cock ” 
if there is one and according to my experience one is much more likely to get a 
shot at it than if the beaters make the usual row they do when beating for jungle- 
fowl—too much noise scares the “ cock ” and it is then liable to run on ahead 
and to break away out of range. 
This time all turns out well and just before the line of beaters reaches the stream 
one of the men calls out “* Woodcock ” and out it comes in no great hurry and 
flies along the edge of the shola evidently looking for another opening amongst 
the bushes in which to drop to cover again, but the shot is too easy to miss and 
. 
