Il6 THE INDIAN ANTELOPE. 



several miles through cultivated fields, fortunately without deviating very far from my proper 

 course, I at last came to an open plain of beautiful turf, upwards of a mile in diameter, and 

 in many places fringed by a belt of palm trees ; my tent was at the other side of this plain, 

 and as I rode across the grass I soon saw that I had not come to the wrong place. Here 

 and there, scattered about the plain, were herds of Antelope quietly lying down and chewing 

 the cud in fancied security, little dreaming that the rider whom they hardly condescended to 

 notice as he passed within a hundred and fifty yards of them, was bent upon their destruc- 

 tion. It seemed almost a pity to disturb or hurt such lovely animals, but the hunter's instinct 

 gets the better of softer feelings', and that evening I was eager enough to possess myself of 

 their trophies. I must also say that I did not find them quite so confiding when I had a rifle 

 in my hand. 



I had sent out a young greyhound which I was anxious to enter at Antelope, and next 

 morning I strolled out with the rifle, the greyhound being led some distance behind me, and 

 his leader having orders to slip him on a signal from me. 



It was not very long before I found a small herd headed by a Black Buck with a good 

 pair of horns, and I proceeded to lay my plans for getting within shot. There was no cover, 

 so the only plan was to walk unconcernedly past them, and trust to their allowing me to 

 approach sufficiently near. Not having been recently fired at, the Antelope did not appear 

 to have any suspicions of my intentions until I was within a hundred and fifty yards, when, 

 observing that they were beginning to look uneasy, I thought it best to fire. My bullet struck 

 the buck, but too far back to drop him on the spot, and he at once bounded away, but in a 

 different direction to that taken by the rest of the herd. Even if I had not heard the bullet 

 strike, this would have been a sufficient indication that the buck was hard hit, and I at once 

 signalled to let go the dog. He was soon in hot pursuit, and on the level greensward I had a 

 splendid opportunity of witnessing a contest between two animals, each the swiftest of its 

 family. Had the buck been unwounded he would soon have distanced his pursuer, but I 

 hoped that his wound was just sufficient to put the two upon an equality : and this I at first 

 thought was the case. After a few hundred yards, however, I saw that the poor buck had no 

 chance ; the dog gained on him stride by stride, and just as he reached a small watercourse, 

 the greyhound reached his quarters. They landed almost together at the other side, when the 

 greyhound — puppy like — seized the buck by the tail ! This, of course, did not afford a very 

 secure hold, but the buck was too exhausted to go much farther, and I soon came up and 

 ended his sufferings with the knife. 



I shot a couple more that day, and three more on the day following, but as far as 

 I recollect, they all fell where they were struck, with the exception of one, after which I had a 

 tedious track through fields of high ' bdjrd! 



In August 1868, I varied the monotony of a hot season in the plains by a shooting trip 

 in the vicinity of Cawnpore. Here I had very fair sport, killing Nilgao, Chikara, and 

 Antelope. 



On the last day that I intended to remain out, I found that I had expended all my 

 rifle ammunition, so I had to rely upon a double barrelled No. 12 smoothbore (which was, by 



