Jungle By- Ways in India 



short, sharp, snappy, bark-Hke roar cleaves the 

 air, a short rush in the forest on our left flank, 

 and we know that we are up to the herd and that 

 it has winded us. 



See us they could not, nor we them, as we had 

 entered a giant bamboo forest interspersed with 

 tall trees and a thick growth of high grass. Intense 

 silence succeeded for a few seconds, broken only 

 by the twittering of a few small birds in a neigh- 

 bouring tree. Then followed the well-known and 

 intensely thrilling rush of heavy animals in heavy 

 jungle as the herd closed up, apparently uncertain 

 as to which point to look for the danger. As 

 animal after animal took fright the sounds in- 

 creased to a crashing roar, and the leader at last 

 making up its mind the roar bore down in our 

 direction with a deafening sound, as of some 

 great mountain-stream in turbulent flood. No 

 time had we for thought. Action was imperative. 

 A hurried whisper from Anacondu (the head 

 shikari), which was scarcely necessary, even if I 

 could have understood the gibberish which took 

 the place with him of a Christian language (his 

 English was limited to ' elephan,' ' bisn,' ' samur,' 

 mine, of the wild sounds he produced, nil), and 

 we closed up to a big bamboo clump which 

 happened to be handy. I waited, muscles braced 

 to their utmost tension, finger on trigger, and 

 nerves and heart playing hide-and-seek throughout 

 my anatomy. It was a wildly exciting moment, 



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