hrill tremolo squeal of
the Bhil beaters. Now a man may be in no sort or fashion a
_shikari_--may hold Buddhistic objections to the slaughter of living
things--but there is something in the extraordinary noise of an agitated
Bhil, which makes even the most peaceful mortals get up and yearn, like
Tartarin of Tarescon for "lions," always at a safe distance be it
understood. As the beat drew nearer, under the squealing--the
"_ul-al-lu-lu-lu_"--was heard a long-drawn bittern-like boom of
"_So-oor!_" "_So-oor!_" (Pig! Pig!) and the crashing of boulders. The
guns rose in their places, forgetting that each and all had merely come
"to see the fun," and began to fumble among the little mounds of
cartridges under the chairs. Presently, tripping delicately over the
rocks, a pig stepped out of a cactus-bush, and the fusillade began. The
dust flew and the branches chipped, but the pig went on--a blue-grey
shadow almost undistinguishable against the rocks, and took no harm.
"Sighting shots," said the guns, sulkily. The beat came nearer, and then
the listener discovered what the bubbling scream was like; for he forgot
straightway about the beat and went back to the dusk of an Easter Monday
in the Gardens of the Crystal Palace before the bombardment of Kars,
"set piece ten thousand feet square" had been illuminated, and about
five hundred 'Arries were tickling a thousand 'Arriets. Their giggling
and nothing else was the noise of the Bhil. So curiously does Sydenham
and Western Rajputana meet. Then came another pig, who was smitten to
the death and rolled down among the bushes, drawing his last breath in a
human and horrible manner.

But full on the crest of the hill, blown along--there is no other word
to describe it--like a ball of thistle-down, passed a brown shadow, and
men cried: "_Bagheera_," or "Panther!" according to their nationalities,
and blazed. The shadow leaped the wall that had turned the pig downhill,
and vanished among the cactus. "Never mind," said the Prime Minister's
son, consolingly, "we'll beat the other side of the hill afterwards and
get him yet." "Oh, he's a mile off by this time," said the guns; but the
Rawat of Amet, a magnificent young man, smiled a sweet smile and said
nothing. More pig passed and were slain, and many more broke back
through the beaters who presently came through the cover in scores. They
were in russet green and red uniform, each man bearing a long spear, and
the hillside was turned on the