SOME INDIAN STALKING AND SHOOTING. 35 



clad from bottom to brink, running down to the river. It was a 

 lovely little bit of sporting country. On the sand on the edge of the 

 river were the fresh tracks of a leopard and a hyaena and innumerable 

 spoor of deer. As I went forward among the low bush near the 

 bank I put up numbers of peafowl and the painted spur-fowl (Gallo- 

 perdix lunalatui), which were allowed to go their ways, though they 

 offered tempting shots. (I poached a morning soon after, wishing to 

 get some of the latter birds, but I did not see one ! ) I had not gone 

 a quarter of a mile, and the sun had not yet risen, before I spied a 

 splendid old sambar silhouetted against the sky on a rocky point of 

 one of the nearer hills. I waited while he and his harem of three 

 hinds moved round the point, and then ran round below, hoping to get 

 a shot. I soon sighted him again and fired at him as he stood 

 against a background of black rock. 1 had over-estimated the dis- 

 tance I suppose, for I saw the splash of the bullet on the rock just 

 above the withers of the stag. I was afraid that my precipitancy had 

 lost him, but he seemed so grand a quarry that I determined to follow 

 him. It was a most arduous stalk ; the hills were very steep, and the 

 rocks, sharp ledges, creepers, and undergrowth made advance very 

 difficult and slow. Twice again that forenoon I sighted the stag, but 

 he, or rather his hinds, and a young stag who had joined the family 

 party were very wary, and I did not get a shot. Soon after noon I 

 called a halt, in a secluded nook under a big rock, and attacked my 

 tiffin basket. The pop of a soda-water cork (it was long before the 

 days of Codd) resulted in a thunderous rush below me to the right, 

 not fifty yards off. Before I got hold of my rifle it was too late, and 

 I was only in time to see my noble friend disappearing into some 

 dense jungle with his splendid horns laid nearly flat on his back. I 

 ought to have examined the little grassy dell, in which the deer had 

 evidently lain up, before taking my ease. The shikari counselled 

 giving him up, and insisted that that stag would not let himself be 

 approached again. However I was not going to throw up the sponge 

 yet and after a longish siesta, started on the trail again. Twice that 

 afternoon did I spot that stag, but he gave me no chance. I sent the 

 shikari to a coign of vantage to watch, and went on alone. The sun 

 was within an hour of setting when, cautiously rounding a rocky point 

 near the top of one of the hills, my eyes were delighted by seeing 



