=Murder of Rāo Sūrajmall.=—The scene chosen for the sport was on the heights of Nanta, not far from the western bank of the Chambal, in whose glades every species of game, from the lordly lion to the timid hare, abounded. The troops were formed into lines, advancing through the jungles with the customary noise and clamour, and driving before them a promiscuous herd of tenants of the forest—lions, tigers, hyenas, bears, every species of deer, from the enormous barahsinghae and nilgae[10.2.20] to the delicate antelope, with jackals, foxes, hares, and the little wild dog. In such an animated scene as this, the Rajput forgets even his opium; he requires no exhilaration beyond the stimulus before him; a species of petty war, not altogether free from danger. It was amidst the confusion of such a scene that the dastard Rana determined to gratify his malice. The princes had convenient stations assigned them, where they could securely assail the game as it passed, each having but one or two confidential attendants. With the Rana was the Iago of his revenge, the son of the Purbia, whom the Hara prince had slain. “Now is the moment,” said the Rana to his companion, “to slay the boar,” and instantly an arrow from the bow of the Purbia was [469] sped at the Rao. “With an eagle’s eye he saw it coming, and turned it off with his bow.” This might have been chance, but another from the foster-brother of the Rana convinced him there was treachery. Scarcely had he warded off the second, when the Rana darted at him on horseback, and cut him down with his _khanda_. The Rao fell, but recovering, took his shawl and tightly bound up the wound, and as his foe was making off he called aloud, “Escape you may, but you have sunk Mewar.” The Purbia, who followed his prince, when he saw the Rao bind up his wound, said, “The work is but half done”; and like a coward, Ratna once more charged the wounded Rao. As his arm was raised to finish the deed of shame, like a wounded tiger the Hara made a dying effort, caught the assassin by the robe, and dragged him from his steed. Together they came to the ground, the Rana underneath. The Rao knelt upon his breast, while, with preternatural strength, with one hand he grasped his victim by the throat, with the other he searched for his dagger. What a moment for revenge! He plunged the weapon into his assassin’s heart, and saw him expire at his feet. The Rao was satisfied; there was no more life left him than sufficed for revenge, and he dropped a corpse upon the dead body of his foeman. The tidings flew to Bundi, to the mother of the Rao, that her son was slain in the Aheria. “Slain!” exclaimed this noble dame, “but did he fall alone? Never could a son, who has drunk at this breast, depart unaccompanied”; and as she spoke, “maternal feeling caused the milk to issue from the fount with such force, that it rent the slab on which it fell.”