kin matches
so completely with the dead sticks and dry leaves, and his legs compare
so well with the surrounding tree-stems, that he is generally
unperceived by a stranger, even when pointed out to him. I have
actually been taking aim at an elephant within seven or eight paces,
when he has been perfectly unseen by a friend at my elbow, who was
peering through the bushes in quest of him.

Quickness of eye is an indispensable quality in sportsmen, the
possession of which constitutes one of their little vanities. Nothing
is so conducive to the perfection of all the senses as the constant
practice in wild and dangerous sports. The eye and the ear become
habituated to watchfulness, and their powers are increased in the same
proportion as the muscles of the body are by exercise. Not only is an
animal immediately observed, but anything out of the common among
surrounding objects instantly strikes the attention; the waving of one
bough in particular when all are moving in the breeze; the switching of
a deer's ear above the long grass; the slight rustling of an animal
moving in the jungle. The senses are regularly tuned up, and the limbs
are in the same condition from continual exercise.

There is a peculiar delight, which passes all description, in feeling
thoroughly well-strung, mentally and physically, with a good rifle in
your hand and a trusty gun-bearer behind you with another, thus
stalking quietly through a fine country, on the look-out for
"anything," no matter what. There is a delightful feeling of calm
excitement, if I might so express it, which nothing but wild sports
will give. There is no time when a man knows himself so thoroughly as
when he depends upon himself, and this forms his excitement. With a
thorough confidence in the rifle and a bright lookout, he stalks
noiselessly along the open glades, picking out the softest places,
avoiding the loose stones or anything that would betray his steps; now
piercing the deep shadows of the jungles, now scanning the distant
plains, nor leaving a nook or hollow unsearched by his vigilant gaze.
The fresh breakage of a branch, the barking of a tree-stem, the lately
nibbled grass, with the sap still oozing from the delicate blade, the
disturbed surface of a pool; everything is noted, even to the alarmed
chatter of a bird: nothing is passed unheeded by an experienced hunter.

To quiet, steady-going people in England there is an idea of cruelty
inseparable from the pur