Alimafias 343 
Where stretches of open country border or intersect jungle, or 
lie between the nocturnal 'hunting-grounds of carnivorae and the 
thickets where they lie-up by day, there one may enjoy hours of 
intense interest in watching what passes under the moon. In 
the Coto Dofiana we have many such spots, some within an hour 
or two’s ride of our shooting-lodges. Here, when the moon 
shines full, and the soft south wind blows towards the dark 
leagues of cistus and tree-heath behind us, we line-out three or 
four guns, each looking outwards across glittering sand-wastes on 
his front. There, on smooth expanse, one may detect every 
moving thing. Those shadowy forms that seem to skim the 
surface without touching it are stone-curlews, and beyond them 
is a less mobile object, whose identity none would guess by sight. 
That is a tortuga, or land-tortoise, tracing its singular double 
trail. Across the sand passes a bigger shadow—rabbits and the 
rest all vanish. What was that shadow? A strange growl 
overhead, and you see it is an eagle-owl that has scattered the 
ghost-like groups. Now there is something on the far skyline 
ahead—something that moves and puzzles—four mobile objects 
that were not there five seconds ago. These prove to be the ears 
of two hinds; presently the spiky horns of a stag appear behind 
them, and the trio move slowly across our front, stopping to 
nibble some tuft of bent. 
None of these are what we seek, but as dawn approaches you 
may (or may not) detect the form of some beast-of-prey making 
for its lair in the jungle behind you. Foxes, as their habit is, 
trot straight in; the lynx comes with infinite caution. Should 
some starveling bush survive a hundred yards out, she may 
stop, squatting on her haunches, half-hidden in its shade. You 
can see there is something there, but the distance is just beyond 
a sure range, and seldom indeed will that cat come nearer. How- 
ever low and still you have laid the while, she will, by some subtle 
feline intuition, have gleaned (perhaps half unconsciously even 
to herself) a sense of danger. When day has dawned, you will 
find the retiring spoor winding backwards behind some gentle 
swell that leads to an unseen hollow beyond—and to safety. Truly 
you agree when the keeper says, “ Lynxes see best in the dark.” 
In a wide country it is of course purely fortuitous should any 
of these animals approach within shot. To assure that result with 
