My men were not in the least ashamed when they descended from the trees, as they considered that the better part of valour was discretion. The large spear had been manufactured expressly for this kind of emergency, by a celebrated native cutler, Bhoput of Nagpur. It is always advisable that some powerful and plucky shikari should carry such a weapon for approaching any wounded animal, as accidents generally occur from carelessness, when the animal is supposed to be lying helpless, at the point of death. Such a spear should be 2 feet long, with a blade 3 inches wide, and extremely sharp. There should be a short cross-bar about 22 inches from the point, to prevent the spear from running completely through an animal, which could then writhe up the handle, and attack. The socket should be large and long, to admit a very thick male bamboo, as the mistake is too frequently made that the spear is strong, but the handle is too weak. It is very important that a trustworthy attendant should be thus armed, as a dying animal can then be approached with comparative impunity. The risks that are run in following wounded animals are far greater than the prime attack. Should an animal charge without being wounded, it may generally be turned by a steady shot, if not absolutely killed; but when badly hurt, the onset of a beast is spasmodic, and nothing but death will paralyse the spring. I could mention numerous cases where lamentable disasters have occurred simply through thoughtlessness on the part of the hunter, who has been sacrificed in consequence of his neglect. One of the saddest catastrophes was the death of the late Lord Edward St. Maur, son of the Duke of Somerset, who died from the effects of amputation necessitated by the mangled state of his knee from the attack of a bear some years ago in India. This unfortunate young sportsman was shooting alone, and having wounded a bear, he followed up the animal for about a mile. When discovered it immediately charged him, and although again seriously wounded by his shot, the bear seized him by the knee, pulled him to the ground, and in the struggle that ensued he was seriously mauled. The bear was driven away by his attendants, and he was conveyed to camp. There was no blame in this instance attached to himself, or to any other person. In a most courageous manner he defended himself against the bear with his hunting-knife, and the body of the animal was recovered after some days by his shikari; but this promising young nobleman was cut off in the early days of his career, and was probably sacrificed through a want of surgical experience on the part of the native operator. I remember an instance of carelessness, which might have had a disastrous result, many years ago, when I was hunting in Ceylon. My brother, the late General Valentine Baker, was riding with me through the jungles in the district called "The Park." I had been caught by a rogue elephant a few days before, and my right thigh was so damaged