once, and Captain Jurna
promptly gave up all hope of getting farther. He was, in fact, greatly
gratified to find his prophesies come true, and an insufferable air of "I
told you so" overspread his face as he wagged his head with mock sorrow,
and gently poked the bottom with his pole to show how firmly fixed we were.

Having an invalid with us, however, it was important to gain every easy
mile we could, and it was not until all the fleet in turn had attempted to
cross the shallow, and failed, that we made up our minds to take to our
land transport. It was uncommonly hot in the full glare of the sun as
Hesketh in his dandy, Jane on her "tattoo," and I on foot set forward for
the forest house at Harwan, which lay some five miles away across the
fields, where the rice is now being busily cut.

At the foot of a very brown and parched-looking hill stood the little
wooden hut, facing the valley of the Pohru and the Kaj-nag range. Hot and
thirsty, we blessed the good Mr. Blunt, the kindly forest officer, who had
so courteously given us permission to use the forest huts of the Lolab and
the Machipura. Our blessings of Blunt turned swiftly to curses directed
towards the chowkidar, who was not to be seen, and who had left the hut
firmly fastened from within. An attempt to force the door brought upon us
the resentment of a highly irritable swarm of big red wasps, who plainly
regarded us as objectionable intruders; and Jane was really getting quite
cross (she says--she always does--that it was I who lost my
temper)--before the bold sweeper, prying round the back premises, found an
unbarred window, and the joy bells rang once more.

The Colonel turned up from the Malingam direction, and pitched his tent in
the rest-house compound; and, as the afternoon grew cooler, he and I
sallied forth to select a few chikor for the pot.

The chikor is extremely like the ordinary European redleg or Barbary
partridge, not only in colouring, but in habit, loving the same dry,
scrub-covered country, and preferring, like him, to run rather than fly
when pursued. The chikor, however, is certainly far superior in the
capacity of what fowl fanciers call "a table bird," being, in fact, truly
excellent eating.

He is not an altogether easy bird to shoot, owing to his annoying
predilection for the steepest and rockiest hillsides, and those most
densely clothed in spiny jungle, wherein lurking, he chooses the
inopportune moment when the sportsman is hopel