On the first day's journey we travelled along a dusty road, which had never been metalled, for the reason that no stone existed in the neighbourhood; the wheels of the carriages sank deeply in the sandy loam, and the saddle was a far more enjoyable seat than a struggling wheeled conveyance. The falconers enlivened the journey by several flights at herons and cranes, which were very numerous in the marshes that bordered occasional lakes or jheels. We had the opportunity of observing the sagacity of a peregrine falcon, which, immediately upon being unmasked, rose straight in the air, instead of following the heron on its direct course. At first I imagined that it did not see the bird, which flew very high, and kept above the lake. Presently the falcon took a totally opposite direction, soaring to an altitude that reduced it to a mere speck. By this time the heron had cleared the large expanse of water, and was at a great height, perpendicular with the dry land beneath. The falcon made a sudden swoop, and with the velocity of a meteor it shot downwards upon an oblique course towards the unlucky heron. This bird had evidently been watching the impending danger, and it attempted to evade the attack by rising rapidly in the air, in order to destroy the advantage which a higher altitude had conferred upon the enemy. It was too slow: the falcon shot like an arrow to the mark, and struck the heron with such force that for the moment both birds, hanging together, fell for about 100 feet, as though hit by a rifle bullet. After the first blow, the large wings of the heron expanded, and checked the rapid fall; the falcon was fixed upon its back, holding the neck in its sharp beak, while it clung to the body with its claws. In this position the two birds slowly descended towards the ground, twirling round and round in their descent from a height of about 1000 feet.