ile waiting for the horses to be brought, and while the excited mob
of beaters and coolies carried off the dead animals to the camp to be
skinned, we amused ourselves by trying our rifles at a huge tree that
grew on the further side of the rice swamp. We found the effects of the
'Express' bullet to be tremendous. It splintered up and burst the bark
and body of the tree into fragments. Its effects on an animal are even
more wonderful. On looking afterwards at the leopard which had been
shot, we found that my bullet had touched the base of the shoulder,
near the collar-bone. It had gone downwards through the neck, under the
collar-bone, and struck the shoulder. There it had splintered up and
made a frightful wound, scattering its fragments all over the chest,
and cutting and lacerating everything in its way.

For big game the 'Express' is simply invaluable. For all-round shooting
perhaps a No. 12 smooth-bore is the best. It should be snap action with
rebounding locks. You should have facilities and instruments for
loading cartridges. A good cartridge belt is a good thing for carrying
them, but go where you will now, where there is game to be killed, a
No. 12 B. L. will enable you to participate in whatever shooting is
going. Such a one as I have described would satisfy all the wishes of
any young man who perhaps can only afford one gun.

As we rode slowly along, we learned many curious facts of jungle and
native life from the followers, and by noticing little incidents
happening before our eyes. Pat, who is so well versed in jungle life
and its traditions, told us of a curious moveable feast which the
natives of these parts hold annually, generally in March or April,
which is called the _Sirwah Purrub_.

It seems to be somewhat like the old carnivals of the middle ages. I
have read that in Sardinia, and Italy, and Switzerland something
similar takes place. The _Sirwah Purrub_ is a sort of festival held in
honour of the native Diana--the _chumpa buttee_ before referred to. On
the appointed day all the males in the forest villages, without
exception, go a-hunting. Old spears are furbished up; miraculous guns,
of even yet more ancient lineage than Mehrman Singh's dangerous
flintpiece, are brought out from dusty hiding-places. Battle-axes, bows
and arrows, hatchets, clubs and weapons of all sorts, are looked up,
and the motley crowd hies to the forest, the one party beating up the
game to the other.

Some go fishing, othe