Introduction 



dressing-cases, kit-bags, immaculate gun -cases 

 and, last but not least, dogs, forms to all appear- 

 ance an inextricable confusion. Were not one's 

 experience all to the contrary, one would think it 

 hopeless to expect anyone to get the mass disin- 

 tegrated and safely housed before the fateful second 

 on which the giant north-bound express will draw 

 out of the station with scarce a sound to show 

 that she has begun her great rush towards the 

 Moors. 



Would not some of these beautifully tailored 

 and outfitted sportsmen open their eyes somewhat 

 if they could see the Anglo-Indian shikari off 

 to the jungles on six to eight weeks' leave, or 

 better still, coming back from them. It is a sight 

 to be commonly met with on the platforms of the 

 great up-country junctions in India, and most 

 plentiful in — of all seasons — the hot weather, and 

 is one particularly characteristic of the race. 

 The temperature may be ranging at anything 

 from 100 to 120 in the shade ; not exactly a time, 

 one would think, when one would take unnecessary 

 railway journeys or rough it out in camp in tiny 

 tents, spending hours tramping about in the hot 

 Indian sun. But what do we see on the platforms ? 

 Of course the home-goer, the lucky furlough man 

 and his appurtenances, are only too visible for two 

 days in each week during April— May, mail day 

 and the day before. We are well used to the 

 lofty pitying look they cast on us who are only 



