glade,
and in the basin the thick nurkool grew up close, dense, and high,
like a rustling barrier of living green. In the centre was the
decaying stump of a mighty forest monarch, with its withered arms
stretching out their bleached and shattered lengths far over the
waving feathery tops of the nurkool below.

The General and I cut down, some branches, which we stuck in the
ground before us. I had a fallen log in front of me, on which I rested
my guns. I had a naked _kookree_ ready to hand, for we were sure that
the tigress was in the swamp, and I did not know what might happen. I
did not half like this style of shooting, and wished I was safely
seated on the back of 'JORROCKS,' my faithful old Bhaugulpore
elephant. The General whistled as a sign for the beat to begin. The
coolies dashed into the thicket. The stately elephant slowly forced
his ponderous body through the crashing swaying brake. The rattle of
the tom-toms and rumble of the drums, mingled with the hoarse shouts
and cries of the beaters, the fiery rush of sputtering flame, and the
loud report as each bomb burst, with the huge volumes of blinding
smoke, and the scent of gunpowder that came on the breeze, told us
that the bombs were doing their work. The jungle was too green to
burn; but the fireworks raised a dense sulphurous smoke, which
penetrated among the tall stems of the nurkool, and by the waving and
crashing of the tall swaying canes, the heaving of the howdah, with
the red puggree of the peon, and the gleaming of the staves and
weapons, we could see that the beat was advancing.

As they neared the large withered tree in the centre of the brake, the
elephant curled up his trunk and trumpeted. This was a sure sign there
was game afoot. We could see the peon in the howdah leaning over the
front bar, and eagerly peering into the recesses of the thicket before
him. He lit one of the bombs, and hurled it right up against the hole
of the tree. It hissed and sputtered, and the smoke came curling over
the reeds in dense volumes. A roar followed that made the valley ring
again. We heard a swift rush. The elephant turned tail, and fled madly
away, crashing through the matted brake that crackled and tore under
his tread. The howdah swayed wildly, and the peon clung tenaciously on
to the top bar with all his desperate might. The _mahout_, or
elephant-driver, tried in vain to check the rush of the frightened
brute, but after repeated sounding whacks on the head