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It is easy to get lost in them, as all are exactly alike, and the labour of climbing up the ridges to ascertain the direction is considerable. While following the hollows one can see nothing, and must walk by endless windings one knows not whither. One cannot imagine a more desolate and utterly bewildering place to get into. The direction in which the nullahs run is quite uncertain, so that following them takes the wearied wanderer alternately in every direction, and the heat of the sun beating down into the hollows is something appalling. The chief sound to be heard is the sighing of the hot wind, always sweeping on from the north-west. The few straggling stalks of bent grass which find root in the caked, hard soil are always waving in the breeze, and the dust flying around. The scarcity of timber in these fertile plains is much felt by the villagers, and, having no firing, they must use all the cow-dung, which ought to manure the land, for fuel (called upla), the odour of which is strong. Then there is the constant chirping of the crickets and cicadas, the sound of which quite fills the sultry air. These sounds and smells, and the never-failing heat of the ground by night and the burning sun by day, must be felt and experienced before anyone can understand what India is like. The impressions are such as no other country produces. While the hot winds are blowing the heat is intense and like a furnace, dry and scorching, but not at all depressing or relaxing, except in the night, if the wind, as it sometimes does, ceases. But in the rains all energy

is gone.

The plains south of the Jumna in the Jalaun district are very suitable to the support of the Indian antelope (Antilope bezoartica), commonly called the black buck, in Hindustani hiran. The natives do not molest them, from motives which forbid the destruction of animal life.

They are, however, very glad to see some of them shot by the British sportsman, as they do much damage to the crops. In the early morning camp is struck, and we start on the march along a straight, well-gravelled road leading towards Jalaun. On both sides is a vast plain, smiling with fields of wheat and other crops of various shades of bright green. The sun is beginning its rapid ascent above the wide horizon. There are several herds of antelope in sight, grazing on the young crops. Having sighted some bucks with fine horns through the glasses, we stroll carelessly across the land, a syce leading the Kathiawar horse, which is a fast, smart mount for such occasions. He is a beauty, with black tail and mane, about 15 hands, of a light dun colour with stripe down back, and very sure-footed in a gallop across the cracked cotton soil. We shape our course, not direct for the herd of about twenty antelope, but at an angle which will take us near them, as if bound for a distant village, following the foot track leading thither. The bucks look up from their busy browsing and trot a little way towards us to inspect the intruders, but, seeing that we are going straight on our course and do not notice them, they continue grazing in peace. We do not attempt any concealment, which would arouse their suspicion at once. Selecting the finest buck, we keep him in view and edge along nearer to him, but still steering straight on to pass him on the left. He becomes nervous, and gives a few bounds and trots on, his curiosity leading him to come nearer sometimes; but seeing we do not alter our course, he grazes again, presenting his black side nicely at 200 yards. Watching the moment when his head is down, the opportunity is taken to sit down, while the syce leads the horse on without a pause. Resting the elbows on the knees one gets a steady position, and, aiming carefully, the express bullet

flies to the mark, and strikes true behind the shoulder. The thud of the bullet is unmistakable, and he bounds away. The rest of the herd, startled by the report, fly in a troop, all bounding in the air with graceful springs, landing on all fours, and springing again in surprising jumps. Their coal-black sides and white bellies glistening in the sun, and with horns thrown back, they dart away at a great pace. The hornless females, with browngray coats and white tails stuck straight up, join in the mêlée. It is a beautiful sight to see the extraordinary height they will jump when startled. They soon disappear behind some patches of tall bajra, but the stricken buck separates from the herd and shows signs of distress. Presently he lies down, and another bullet reaches his heart, when he is gralloched and loaded on the horse. His horns are 24 inches long and beautifully set; his head, being above the average, is preserved for setting up, and now graces my collection.

Jalaun is an old native city with some crooked, narrow streets and native buildings of imposing flat-roofed structure. It is not at all metamorphosed by British civilization, but purely native. The principal officer was the tahsildar, or native revenue collector. In the evening this gentleman came politely to pay me a visit, and salaamed in the most courtly fashion, wishing me happiness and prosperity. To my surprise he spoke perfect English, but with a sort of shy manner and accent, as if he seldom used the language. Having been seated in a chair, he presently spoke of England, and said that his name was Stanley, that he had been as a boy at Eton, and came to India very young. He had had misfortunes and a wild career, and had married a native lady, and was now tahsildar in Government employment, and lived like a native, and had almost forgotten his native language

from having none but Asiatics to talk to. He had not been in England since his boyhood, and never should go there again. He looked exactly like a high-caste Hindu gentleman, and wore long hair under his white turban, and a beard, and native white costume. He gave me much information about the district, and told of some strange adventures and recollections.

CHAPTER XX

THE NERBUDDA

In the great central plain of India there is a point which is the highest between the eastern and western ocean. Its name is Amarkantak, and its elevation is 3,494 feet above the sea. It lies in the Central Provinces, in the range dividing those districts from Bengal. Compared to the mighty Himalayas on the north these are poor little molehills, yet they are the great divide or watershed whence flow four fine rivers, draining a vast area of wellwatered country. To the east flows the Mahanadi to the Bay of Bengal, where the sacred temples of Jagarnath and the Black Pagoda rear their sacred pinnacles. To the south flows the Godavari, bordering the Nizam's dominions. To the north flows the Sone to join the mighty Ganges; and to the west, winding through jungle-clad ranges through Jabalpur, forcing its way westward between the two mountain chains of the Satpuras and Vindhyas, ever increasing in volume as it bursts its rocky barriers and emerges beneath the western Ghats-second only to the Ganges-flows the sacred Nerbudda, falling into the Gulf of Cambay, near Baroda.

Let us follow it through its rocky channel carved out between high walls of marble rocks, near Jabalpur; past the Gond fortress of Garha, where is the Madan Mahal, palace of a powerful Gond king, whose dynasty gave place

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