We waited a long time hearing nothing of the beaters, and watching the
red and black ants hurrying to and fro. Huge green-bellied spiders
oscillated backwards and forwards in their strong, systematically woven
webs. A small mungoose kept peeping out at me from the roots of an old
india-rubber tree, and aloft in the branches an amatory pair of hidden
ringdoves were billing and cooing to each other. At this moment a
stealthy step stole softly behind, and the next second Mr. Mehrman
Singh crept quietly and noiselessly beside me, his face flushed with
rapid walking, his eye flashing with excitement, his finger on his lip,
and a look of portentous gravity and importance striving to spread
itself over his speaking countenance. Mehrman had been up all night at
the feast, and was as drunk as a piper. It was no use being angry with
him, so I tried to keep him quiet and resumed my watch.
A few minutes afterwards he grasped me by the wrist, rather startling
me, but in a low hoarse whisper warning me that a troop of monkeys was
coming. I could not hear the faintest rustle, but sure enough in a
minute or two a troop of over twenty monkeys came hopping and shambling
along, stopping every now and then to sit on their hams, look back,
grin, jabber, and show their formidable teeth, until Mehrman rose up,
waved his cloth at them, and turned them off from the direction of the
nets toward the bank of the stream.
Next came a fox, slouching warily and cautiously along; then a couple
of lean, hungry-looking jackals; next a sharp patter on the crisp dry
leaves, and several peafowl with resplendent plumage ran rapidly past.
Another touch on the arm from Mehrman, and following the direction of
his outstretched hand, I descried a splendid buck within thirty yards
of me, his antlers and chest but barely visible above the brushwood. My
gun was to my shoulder in an instant, but the shekarry in an excited
whisper implored me not to fire. I hesitated, and just then the stately
head turned round to look behind, and exposing the beautifully curving
neck full to my aim, I fired, and had the satisfaction of seeing the
fine buck topple over, seemingly hard hit.
A shot on my right, and two shots in rapid succession further on,
shewed me that Pat and H. were also at work, and then the whole forest
seemed alive with frightened, madly-plunging pig, deer, and other
animals. I fired at, and wounded an enormous boar that came rushing
past, and now the cries of the coolies in front as they came trooping
on, mingled with the shouts of the men at the nets, where the work of
death evidently was going on.
It was most exciting while it lasted, but, after all, I do not think it
was honest sport. The only apology I could make to myself was, that the
deer and pig were far too numerous, and doing immense damage to the
crops, and if not thinned out, they would soon have made the growing of
any crop whatever an impossibility.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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