Then would come the hour forsiesta; for during the time of day when the sun is at its highest andits hottest, it is neither pleasant nor safe to be out of the shade inIndia.
"Why, Lyell," Fred Freeman said on the evening of the first day's bigshoot, "you have brought us to a perfect paradise, and a sportsman'sparadise too."
A sportsman's paradise? Yes, surely the contents of those lordly bagstestified to that. And what was it that was wanting in that bag, Iwonder? Nothing you could wish to see. Here were pigeons by the dozen,and peafowls and jungle-fowls, to shoot which they had threaded the darkmazes of the forest. Here were ducks and geese, ay, and snipe and teal,which they had waded neck-deep in paddy fields to find, to say nothingof big fat bustards, and grouse and red-legged partridge, that hadfallen to their guns while crossing the moor; and last, but certainlynot least, a hare or two as well.
Now, when I say that there were growing around them, everywhere, themost luscious fruits that can be imagined; when I say that the earthyielded its turmeric [the basis of curry powder], and its deliciouslyesculent roots; that spices of all kinds could be had for the gathering,that the cocoa-nut palms held high aloft their tempting fruits, and thatthe river abounded with fish, will you wonder when I tell you that ourfriends lived like fighting-cocks. Would they not have been fools ifthey hadn't?
Chisholm and Frank occupied one sleeping tent, Fred Freeman and CaptainLyell another. Very comfortably too those tents were furnished, andeach canvas bed had its own mosquito curtain. One night, however, Frankfound it impossible to sleep, so he got up quietly, dressed, and wentout. What a heavenly night! Never, except in the far-off sea of ice,had he seen stars so bright and large. There was light enough almost toread by. He could see everything around him--the men lying asleep atthe foot of the snow-white dining tent, the elephants and the picketedhorses, and, farther away, jungle and plain, forest and hills, allbathed in starlight. Frank could hear, high over the loud hum of insectlife, the distant yelp of the jackal, the gibber of the striped hyaena,and the unearthly yell of the jungle cat.
"If there is nothing more terrible than that about," he said to himself,"I shall go for a walk, just a little way. Jooma," he continued,addressing the sentinel, "I'm going to the banks of the river."
"Take care, sahib, take care," was the sentinel's warning.
When two whole hours passed away, and there were no signs of Frank'sreturn, Jooma became alarmed, and roused Chisholm, and Chisholm arousedthe whole camp. Frank must be found, and that right speedily; but wherewere they to seek him? While they were deliberating which way to go,the report of a rifle fell on their ears, coming from the forest behindthe camp. Meanwhile clouds had banked up and obscured a great portionof the sky.
"Now, hurry men, hurry, get your torches and come, there isn't a momentto be lost if you would save my friend."
In ten minutes more they were on his track: by bent grass by a singlefootprint, by a broken twig, and a hundred little signs that the eye ofa European would never have noticed, these men followed the trail bytorchlight, till far into the deepest and darkest part of the greatforest. But now a pause ensued. The trackers were puzzled. The truthis, that it was just at this spot that the disagreeable truth flashedupon poor Frank that he was lost. He had felt sure he could easilyretrace his steps, but trying to do so only led to a series of uselesswanderings up and down and round and round, often coming back again tothe same spot, though he knew it not, until the starlight forsook him,and he found himself at last in the terrible position presently to bedescribed.
The trackers are at fault, and no wonder, yet not three hundred yardsaway Frank lies at the bottom of a pit, into which he had stumbled, andpulled after him the large withered branch of a mango-tree, and hisrifle had gone off as he fell. He hears his friends firing to attracthis attention, he cannot reach his rifle to reply. But there adown thewind at last comes a thrice-welcome shout, "Coo-ee-ee!" He tries toanswer, but the branch lies across his chest, and he can hardly breathe."Coo-ee-ee! Coo-ee-ee!" They hear his muffled tones at last; theylook no more for track nor trail. Forward they dash, holding thetorches high over head. "Coo-oo-ee!" A gigantic leopard rises from hislair, but with a startled yell disappears in a moment in the darkness.Was that a huge python coiled round the tree? If it was he had no timeto strike, so quickly do they speed along. "Coo-ee-ee!" They are closeat hand now, and now they are at the very mouth of the pit, and Frankcan talk to them and tell them how he is trapped.
Chisholm was so glad to see his friend once more safe and alive, that heforgot entirely that he had resolved to scold him properly for hisrashness and folly. But Frank never afterwards cared to have anyallusion made to his night ramble, and resented almost warmly FredFreeman's attempt to dub him the "somnambulist."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
ADVENTURE WITH A PYTHON--MOONDAH'S HOUSE--"THE TIGER! THE TIGER!"--PANTHERS--HUNTING WITH THE CHEETAH--THE PANTHER AND THE BOAR.
"Do you really think there are pythons or boa constrictors in theforest?" asked Frank next day at dinner.
"I haven't a doubt of it," replied Lyell. "At the same time I cannotquite swallow all the tracker says about the enormity of the serpent hesaw when following up your trail in the woods."
"No," said Chisholm, "fifty feet of snake is rather more than most mencan swallow; but had you seen the tracker's eyes when he saw the tiger,you'd have been willing to admit that they were big enough toaccommodate a very large amount of boa constrictor."
"It puts me in mind of an adventure I once had in South Africa," saidLyell. "One doesn't like speaking much of one's self, but I think, onthe occasion I refer to, I exhibited a fair amount of firmness andpresence of mind in a moment of deadly peril to one of my men. I hadbeen out for a fortnight's shoot, beyond and to the nor'ard of the Natalprovinces. There were four of us--our doctor, our purser, marineofficer, and myself. Our sport was good, and the fun we had fairish.We were seated at lunch one day in an open glade in the forest, whensuddenly we were startled by hearing the most terrific yells; and onlooking up beheld one of our Caffres speeding towards us, pursued by anenormous python. There was no time for escape, had escape beenhonourable, which it was not. I seized the rifle and bayonet from oneof our attendant marines, and next moment the python was impaled. Oh,don't think for a moment that that would have killed him! In half asecond he had almost wriggled clear; but in doing so he turned the rifleround so that the muzzle pointed almost down his throat. It was aterrible moment--thank Heaven that rifle was loaded, and that I had thepresence of mind to pull the trigger! It was a case of `all hands standclear' now. The python's head was shattered, but the convulsions of hisbody, ere death closed the scene, were fearful to witness. I don't wantto see the like again. His body measured five-and-thirty feet; the gapeof his jaws measured over a yard. I can understand a monster like thisswallowing a goat or even a deer itself."
A day or two after this the camp was struck, and a move made nearer tothe mountains, the tents being erected close to the river as before, butstill on elevated ground. Here they were, then, in the very centre ofwhat might be called the home of the wild beasts, and both sport andadventure might reasonably be expected in any quantity. Herds ofelephants roamed in the deep forests, tigers and wild pigs were in thethickets; bears, too, would be found, and birds everywhere. They formedno particular plan of attack upon the denizens of this wilderness; theywere bold hunters every one of them; they carried their lives in theirhands, but they omitted no precaution to defend and protect them. Theyalways went abroad prepared for anything.
Chisholm called the spot where the camp was now fixed--and where itremained until the commencement of the south-west monsoon warned them itwas time for departure--his Highland home. It was indeed a Highlandhome, and the scenery all around was charming. And yet a walk of someeight or nine miles brought them to what might be called the lowlands.Here were great stretches of open country, interspersed with lakes andstreams, immense green fields of rice or paddy and maize, with gro
ves ofcocoa-nut palms, and gardens where grew the orange-tree and the citron,and where the giant mango-trees hid completely from view the primitivehuts of the villagers.
Moondah was head-man of one of these villages, and our heroes, whilereturning home after a day's promiscuous shooting, used to stop torefresh themselves at his house. Moondah was a kind of a feudal lordamong his people. He had built himself a house on the outskirts of hisvillage, just under the shadow of a vast precipice. Indeed, it wasquite a castle compared to the frail huts of mud and wood in which thevillagers dwelt. Moondah's castle was built of solid stone and lime,the walls were of great thickness, and the roof was flat and surroundedby embattlements; and it was very pleasant to sit here for half