Some of the jungle Karens whom Phra Ram assembled.

HUNTING WITH THE KARENSBy CASPAR WHITNEY

photographs by the author

HEN we left the Karen village, weW left behind also the assortmentof Siamese whom we had been

collecting all along the route of Phra Ram’spilgrimage; though it required some strat-egy to get clear of them, for they were un-willing to allow so well-provisioned an out-fit to escape. But the Karens we gatheredwere little better than the Siamese we aban-doned; it came near to bring a case ofjumping out of the fry-pan into the fire.I had no difficulty whatever in securingKarens to join our expedition; but thehope, which had buoyed me during the pil-grimage, of getting efficient men amongthese people was rudely shattered. Realhunters, men who knew the jungle and thewilderness folk—were few and far between.In fact, there was not a man of my party,nor could I find one, who had ever seen abuffalo, the game I particularly sought.One chap was presented with much flourishas being the son of a man who at one timehad made his way into the interior of Bur-ma and killed buffalo and other game; butthe son, though he had hunted the wild redcattle a great deal, had never killed buffalo.On the Burma side the Karens are more athome in the jungle, but those of the borderline are more like the Siamese, who neverventure into jungle not known to some oftheir people.

The little village where I picked upmy men was the temporary abode of asmall tribe, with its about one dozen housesstanding on bamboo poles eight feet abovethe ground, and straggling along a smallstream for several miles. Here they hadmade a clearing and were cultivating rice,which, together with a kind of pumpkin(gourd), wild-growing bananas, some junglevegetables and chickens, constitutes theirfood. The houses were placed to com-mand the rice fields, over which constantguard is maintained by a system of scare-crows and crudely constructed noise-mak-ing implements. For example: runningfrom the house to the padi fields, some-times as much as one hundred yards away,

were lines of bamboo poles, every one witha hole in its top. Through these holes anative-made rope was attached at the padifield end to a very large, thoroughly dried,hollow bamboo placed upon another of thesame kind at an angle of forty-five degrees.Always some one is on watch at the houseend of this line. When birds or animalssteal upon the padi field the rope is pulledand let go quickly and repeatedly, whichalternately lifts and drops one hollow bam-boo upon the other, making a booming youcan hear for a good mile in the jungle. Andall this clearing and building is repeatedannually, for the Karens are a nomadicpeople, so constantly changing their abodesthat the same piece of ground is not oftenplanted a second time. And if during theplanting or the ripening of the crop someone should fall ill of small-pox, the afflicted,the house and the rice fields are immediatelydeserted, because the Karens are deadlyafraid of it and flee for their lives on its ap-pearance, setting up sharp slicks on allroads leading to the settlement, to inter-cept the demon of disease.

Like the Siamese, the Karen women arenot good to look upon, and do not improvetheir appearance any by the style of orna-ments they affect. When very young theirears are pierced to admit a small roundstick, which is gradually increased in diam-eter until by the time the little girls havebecome women their ears easily accommo-date a two-inch disc of blackened bamboo.This stretches the ears hideously, as maybe imagined, and when the ornament islaid aside temporarily!—well—picture thethin strips of pendent ear lobe! As a rulethe Karen women wear their hair long, but,like the Siamese, some cut it short, andothers again keep it cropped close, excepton top of the head, where it is allowed togrow to its natural length—which does notadd to their by no means over-abundanceof good looks. Sometimes the unmarriedwoman wears a breast cloth, but for themost part men and women wear a loin girdle,and sometimes even that is set aside in hot

428 Hunting with the Karens

weather. To thoroughly appreciate Jap-anese women one should begin the FarEastern trip at the Malay Peninsula, jour-neying thence through Siam, Anam, Cam-bodia and China—though I confess topreferring a good-looking Chinese girl tothe alleged Japanese beauty.

Bracelets and necklaces of bamboo arethe other usual ornaments, except whenthey can afford a narrow neckband of silver,which protects, so it is believed, againstmany evils that lurk along life’s wayside,even in the jungle. The men also wear thisneckband, and bamboo an inch in diameterand about four inches long stuck throughtheir ear lobes. Some of the boys are rathergood looking. They wear their hair in a knot,like a horn on the forehead, or at one sideor the other of the head or on top; and usu-ally a turban crowns the topknot. All inall, the Karens differ not a great deal fromthe Siamese in physiognomy, but the peoplein this section of the Far East shade intoone another rather easily.

Whatever the Karens know of huntingis acquired from sitting on platforms inthe dry season watching waterholes forthe drinking beasts; and they do littleof this, for they are not a meat-eatingpeople.

In a word, the new men engaged herewere of mighty little service to me exceptas burden bearers; and so far as increasingthe efficiency of my party, I was no betteroff after my visit to the Karen village thanbefore. My immediate “hunting” forcecontinued unchanged, and consisted of theSiamese, Thee, Nuam and Wan, who hadbeen secured by Phra Ram as the best threein all the country. And that was trueenough, for, although a long ways from be-ing good hunters, they were really aboutthe only natives I met in Siam who pre-tended to have any jungle-hunting expe-rience; and, except for Wan, even theirknowledge went no further than chancegossip. Thee’s chief occupation was court-ing the ladies of the jungle and of the vil-lages; the moment we crossed the trail ofthe eternal feminine Thee was lost to ourparty. I always hoped he was more capa-ble, not to say successful in this field thanhe was in the one where I paid for his ex-perience. All three carried muzzle-loadingguns which had been presented to them atRatburi by the chief; but only Wan pos-

sessed any marksmanship whatever. PhraRam had in fact laid in a stock of such gunsfor distribution to the distinguished amongthe jungle stragglers whom we met on thepilgrimage, and they were appropriatedwith frank pleasure and carried with muchostentation. But Ram got no thanksfrom me for his generosity. The nativesfired at every living thing which crossedour path, making such a fusillade that hunt-ing was simply out of the question. WhenI took Ram to task he solemnly assured methat the men would not dare venture intothe jungle without the guns; and when Itold him I could get along better withoutboth men and guns he protested that theking would cut off his head if he allowedthe “distinguished foreign hunter” whohad been intrusted to his care to ventureunprotected into the jungle. So I pro-ceeded to take the law into my own handsby getting possession of the small supplyof caps and deliberately exploding everyone of them on Wan’s gun, which I bor-rowed for the purpose. Mutiny followed,but none of the gun owners left, I am sorryto say—we had too much good grub.While we stopped at the Karen villagereports innumerable came to us of game,especially of elephants, of which the jungleswere said to be full, as indeed so it seemedafter we got started. Leaving the littlevillage at daybreak, we had not walkedmore than a couple of hours before we foundbroad, defined tracks and, later, a wallowingpool. Whether or not you are huntingelephant, it is a joy to come upon theirtracks, for they make a path easily tra-versed through jungle of clinging vine andthorn bushes.

After a while we came upon buffalo andred cattle tracks in a thickly wooded coun-try of small trees, where the coarse grassgrew higher than one’s head. Betweenthese stretches were occasional swampswithout timber, covered with the lalangcommon to all Malaya—and as wet. Nota stitch remained dry after going throughone of these places. Picking up the buffalotracks—for they alone interested me—wefollowed them uninterruptedly all that firstday, coming again and again to mudholesin which the roiled water showed plainlytheir recent passing. Later we got intodenser jungle and found fresher tracks. Itseemed as though we must at least get sight

Hunting with the Karens 429

of the game; but after eight hours’ steadygoing Thee decided we would not reach itthat day. As I have said, Thee was theladies’ man, yet Phra Ram had made himleader of the hunters. I understood laterthat his people had certain agricultural in-terests near Ratburi, which gave him im-portance in the eyes of a chief interestedin the local river toll.

The experience of the first day was theexpericnce of the following two weeks,

exclusive Oriental group of deer (Rusine),which includes the sambar of India, Bur-ma and Siam, with its numerous Malayanvarieties, and several closely allied similarforms through Malaya and the PhilippineIslands. Most important but least nu-merous is the Schomburgers deer (Cervusschomburgki ), standing about four feet atthe shoulder, and carrying a good-sizedhead entirely unique in the whole world ofdeer for its many-pointed antlers. This

A group of my Karen “hunters.”

during which we traveled over the countryand across its frequent streams, making ourway toward one particular section, which,all united in declaring, was sure to yield usbuffalo if we were not earlier successful.There was scarcely a day in those twoweeks that we did not cross elephant tracksand the tracks of deer and the Siamesevariety of the gaur; several times I had theluck to sight the deer itself.

In the Far East is an interesting and

was the only deer at which I should haverisked a shot while in the buffalo section;but, unhappily, I never saw one, as it isvery scarce except in the far northern partsof Siam, and not plentiful even there. Infact, good heads are rare.

Also in Siam is the little barking (Cervu-lus muntjac), or ribfaced deer, about twentyinches shoulder height, and known to al-most all sections of the Far East. This Isaw frequently, though it is a solitary

430 Hunting with the Karens

A young South American Guemalwhose antlers resemble those ofSambar.

The hog deer of the Indian plains(Cervus porcinus).

Schomburg’s deer (Cervus schomburgki) .

wanderer and passes most ofits time in thick cover, comingout to graze in the early morn-ing and at sunset. Its longestantlers (of antelope-like form)do not exceed four inches, andthe head is carried very low, sothat it has an ungainly, some-what sheep-like gait, thoughof considerable speed. One isconstantly hearing its some-what dog-like, somewhat fox-like yelp.

The other deer most com-

the shoulder in the hills, where it is mostabundant. At the other side of the world,in Argentina and in Chili, South America,I found another deer, locally known as thehuemal, which carries antlers quite similarto those of the sambar.

There are some parts of the Malay pen-insula where the Sakais kill the muntjac,and even the sambar, with poisoned dartsfrom their blow gun; but none of these

Oriental peoples are huntersof deer except by the methodof watching from a platformerected near a drinking holein the dry season. During

monly seen is the sambar(Cervus unicolor), ranging from four to fivefeet at the shoulder, an Oriental species,which, with its numerous sub-species, iscommon to Burma, Malay, Siam and severalof the East Indian islands, the most attrac-tive head being carried by the Celebes va-riety, although that deer itself is smallerthan the Indian or Malayan type.

the rainy season no attemptis made to get deer, andtherefore they know nothingwhatever of the science ofhunting. Truth to tell, hunt-ing craft, woodcraft, is oflittle service in these denseFar Eastern jungles, becausethere is no such thing asfollowing game up wind ex-cept by chance, or of calcu-lating its probable rangeand crossing upon it or, ninetimes out of ten, of circum-venting it in any legitimatemanner. If ever the huntergets the game at a disad-vantage it is entirely luck;

Then there are the hog deer (Cervus por-cinus) of India, two and one-half feet at theshoulder, which range through Burma, al-though not plentifully; and the strictly Bur-mese variety called “thameng” (Cervuseldi), about the size of a big antelope, withits Barren Ground caribou-like antlers.Except for the Schomburger, the antlersof all these deer are of simpler type thanthose of the European or American groups;as a rule, they have a single brow line,with the beam rising nearly straight, andterminating usually in a simple fork. Thesambar is quite the largest of the Orientalgroup, and a fine deer it is, of powerfulbuild, standing nearly five feet in height at

Hunting with the Karens 431

Stalking through such going means travel-ing like a cat approaching a mouse—pickingup one’s feet with utmost care and placingthem with equal caution, the while usingyour long knife industriously, silently, toease your passage.

For a few days after leaving the villageRam’s habit was to send forth every morn-ing, as preliminary to the day’s hunting,twenty or twenty-five Karens to scour thecountry for tracks; but they made so muchnoise I insisted the practice be abandoned,and that the Karens remain in camp well

Typical antlers of the Sambar of the Far East(Cervus unicolor).

for there is no other way of hunting inthese dense jungles than by followingtracks wherever they may lead. Thus itwill happen that you may be travelingdown wind or up wind. If when you comewithin striking distance you are going upwind, a lucky star indeed shines over you.If down wind—disappointment, as youhear but never catch sight of the fleeinggame. Nowhere in the world I have hunt-ed is successful stalking more difficult thanin this piece of Siam-Burma. A tangle ofhanging things overhead, of creeping thingsunderfoot, and of thorn bushes on everyside, all ready to hold or to prick or tosound instant alarm to the wild folk.

The Celebes variety of the Sambar(Cervus moluccensis).

away from the region I intended hunting.The only real use I got out of these men wasin crossing streams, as we did with more orless frequency. Because of our weaklingbullocks, we almost never crossed a streamwithout getting stuck, and on such occa-sions the “hunters” came in handy to pushand haul the carts out to the bank. Oneday we came to a river that was too deep toford, and the Karens saved the situation byswimming the bullocks across, after floatingover the carts. Then, wading chin deep,they portaged on their heads all the stuffthat had been taken out of the carts, shout-ing and laughing all the time like a lot ofboys in the old swimming hole. We weretwo days at this place, and the Karens hadThe curiously antlered Thameng of Burma (Cervus eldi).

Crossing the swollen jungle stream.

Hunting with the Karens 433

the time of their life. Meanwhile PhraRam stood on the bank adding his unmusi-cal voice to the general hubbub during in-tervals of betel-nut chewing.

After this crossing wee traveled throughsome fairly open, grassy country, where Isaw several varieties of handsomely plu-maged birds, notably a woodpecker of aglorious golden red. Here we had our firstview ahead of the “mountains,” a range ofsmall hills in Burma which looked very blueand of course densely wooded. Soon, how-ever, we entered a swampy, noisome sec-tion, where both Nai Kawn and I foughtdysentery which the drinking water gaveus, although boiled and limited to a cup aday. The nights were cool enough to makesleeping under a light rug comfortable, butvery damp; the tent was wringing wet eachmorning, and our rifles had to be wellgreased every night to keep them free ofrust.

The bullocks here made very slow time,not over two miles an hour, the men plug-ging along single file. A week of this, withnothing to cheer the outlook, and even theusually lighthearted Karens fell into silence.Then one day we came upon firmer soil andwithin forty-eight hours sighted a settle-ment of three houses. I was in the lead ofthe advance group of my party and, besidesdiscovering the village, also learned a lessonin native hospitality. When we arrivedall the little group with me except Wan leftand went into one of the houses, where theysat, eating bananas and bamboo cane (likesugar-cane), none of the residents either in-viting me into the house or offering me any-thing to eat. Wan was indignant and aftera little while went to the house where ourmen sat eating. I could hear the highnotes of his complaining voice, coming fastand furious. Shortly a Karen came to mewith presents or sugar-cane and cocoanutpowder, for which in return I made him apresent of the seed beads they prize highly.Exchange of presents is the only means ofbarter with these jungle people, who carryall their belongings, including betel nut, themost important, tied into a pouch at the endof their loin cloth and hung about theirmiddle.

We had another siege of Ram’s court-holding at this place, and he had to passjudgment on some of the most unlovelyspecimens of the human race that I ever

beheld. Something of the frank natureof these courts may be judged when I saythat a woman, who complained that herhusband had left her for a younger one,was asked by Ram if she had any disease,at which the entire gathering yelled withgreat delight, the woman herself and theCourt (Phra Ram) joining in. In fact, Ramalways got a lot of enjoyment out of thesesittings, joking plaintiff and defendant im-partially, and having, obviously, a thor-oughly good time. I noticed, too, that thepresents were always more numerous whereRam was in good form; and you may besure that did not escape the chief, to whomthe delay here and the further opportunityit afforded for court-holding and present-receiving were by no means distasteful.

Ram told me we were to await the arrivalof some men who were really hunters ofbuffalo; and I groaned, for my daily prayerhad become that I might lose those we al-ready had. But we tarried. Meanwhile,Wan and I went out into the surroundingjungle, chiefly with the idea, as far as I wasconcerned, of getting away from the unend-ing importunities of the dirty people amongwhom we camped. The country immedi-ately surrounding these houses was a littlebit more open than that which we hadcome through and we saw no buffalo tracks,but did see a tiger—a rather unusual ex-perience, and the only tiger I saw in Siam.We were in a very dense bamboo thicketand I was seated, smoking, with my riflestanding against a near-by bamboo clump.As I sat, a something about twenty yardson my right moved, and, looking quickly,I just got a fleeting glimpse of a tiger slink-ing silently, swiftly out of the bamboo intothe jungle. I jumped to my feet, but be-fore I could reach my rifle the tiger had dis-appeared. I followed the tracks so long as Icould see them, but never got another sightof the royal beast.

After three days the arrival of the “buf-falo hunters” was the signal for a pow-wow that lasted well into the night, beforeRam’s tent. Such incessant jabbering Ihad never heard, and everybody in theneighborhood gathered to hear and to takepart in the conference. I fancy every oneenjoyed it but me. To my repeated ques-tion of Ram if the newcomers knew any-thing of buffalo, the chief would as re-peatedly reply they had not got to that yet.

An elephant wallow and drinking pool in the Siamese jungle.

Hunting with the Karens 4 3 5

For the most part of the time their talkwas the gossip of the jungle, usually of thecharacter commonly exploited in Ram’sopen court. Thus half the night passed.Finally, however, it developed that thesemen, who had been searched out at a neigh-boring settlement, and for whom we hadwaited three days, had not hunted buffa-lo, but knew another who had killed one!Ram suggested waiting for the friend; butby this time I was bored about all I could holdwithout explosion, and I demanded a startthe next morning. So next day we movedon, headed for the especial section wherebuffalo were said to be fairly plentiful.And now in a few days more we came to thereal jungle, where it was impossible to takethe carts, which were sent along to a settle-ment where we were to join them later. Itook good care to send off with the cartsevery last man that could be spared, keep-ing with me only those actually required asporters, and my Siamese hunters, Thee,Nuam and Wan.

I now entered upon two weeks of thehardest, most persistent hunting I haveever done. The jungle everywhere was ofthe same dense, matted, thorn-filled char-acter, but that was of slight consequence ifonly buffalo materialized, as seemed likelyby the tracks. There was no doubt of thegame being here.

The Indian buffalo (Bos bubalus) inits wild state appears to be restrictedto India and to up-country sections of thegreat Indian peninsula, including that ele-vated section where Burma and Siam join.So-called wild buffalo are found in otherparts of the Far East, which are, however,probably descendants of domesticated in-dividuals; for in the Philippines, and onthe Chinese and occasionally on the Malay-an coasts, the buffalo serves as patientlyas the bullock, and with greater strength.Perhaps, next to the rhino, the buffalo inits entirely wild state is the most difficultbeast to find, because, like the rhino, itsfavorite haunts are the densest jungles,especially in the neighborhood of swamps,where patches of thick, towering grass pro-vide covered runways, in which they arecompletely concealed. You might passwithin a dozen feet and not see them,

In India buffalo are more apt to be inherds than in the Siam-Burma section, andin both places they are fond of passing the

day in the marshes. They are related tothe Cape buffalo (Bos caffer), but distin-guished from them by the length and sweepof their horns and the wide separation attheir base, as well as by the less thicklyfringed ears and the more elongated andnarrow head. Besides, they are bigger,standing from five to six feet at the shoul-der, while the Cape species averages fromfour and one-half to five feet. As to horns,those of the Indian will average a full teninches longer, with an incomparably widerspread. The record outside length of anIndian is 77 inches, that of the African 49;but the average of the former is from 56 to60, and of the latter 44 to 47 inches.

A breed is maintained by the Rajahs ofIndia for fighting, whose horns have not thesweep of the Indian buffalo, but the shapeof the African, with a short curve turningdownward over the eye. They are tre-mendously more massive, however, havinga diameter at the base of twenty-six inches.

Perhaps a day taken straight from mydiary will best suggest the kind of huntingI had after this Indian buffalo on the Siam-Burma frontier.

“Started at five o’clock in the morning,my three hunters, Thee, Nuam, and Wanand with us a Karen, the only one of theKaren crowd supposed to know this coun-try. Speedily found tracks, which we fol-lowed for some little time, the Karen go-ing carelessly and noisily, rushing ahead,apparently bent only on seeing the track,without thought of the hunters behind him.Within a couple of hours of this kind of go-ing we jumped a buffalo; could hear himcrashing through the jungle not over twentyyards ahead of us. The Karen, in a muchexcited state of mind, claimed he had seenit; but I did not, and I was close behind.This experience, however, made me deter-mine to keep the Karen back, so I orderedhim to the rear and put Wan in front of mewith the jungle knife, as it was necessaryto cut our way continuously. Much an-noyed by the bungling Karen, I tried tomake him understand my feelings. Ugh—‘it is to laugh.’ Went ahead again, but theKaren came crashing up the line, jumpingin ahead of Wan. Then I smote him—hard and recurringly. While I thus badehim be good another something, which wediscovered later to be a red ox, jumped upand away, crashing and smashing into the

My three Siamese hunters.Thee Nuam Wan

Hunting with the Karens 437

jungle. With the Karen again in the rearwe went on, and soon were on the buffalotracks. For three hours we followed thesethrough dense jungle, finally over a hill andpractically all the time moving down wind.Suddenly again the buffalo! he got ourwind and bolted. Could not have beenover fifteen or twenty yards off, though wecould not see ten. Three hours later, afterhard, patient tracking, with Wan in thelead using his parang very carefully, weagain started the buffalo. Again he gotour wind. At none of these times couldwe see the beast, although so close to him.To get that near to the same buffalo fourtimes in one day may have reflected credit-ably upon our tracking, but was extremelydisappointing, none the less. Such condi-tions make scoring impossible; you maynot take advantage of the wind; you mustsimply follow the tracks and circle roundand round or straight away wherever theylead you. You make, of course, very littleheadway, consuming a lot of time in pa-tient plodding, for you must literally cutyour way. Without the experience onecan scarcely imagine the strain of this kindof stalking, not to mention the irritation ofhaving around you such blundering hunt-ers. The difficulties of getting buffalo aremany, but especially because they lie up inthe dense clumps during the day; and itis literally impossible to skirt around un-der cover, as one might do in more opencountry.”

Thus day after day I hunted buffalo,setting out in the morning by sunrise andkeeping at it without cessation until dark.I often took the precaution of movingcamp several miles from where we found orstopped on tracks. And in such manner Iwent over every bit of that buffalo section.There were days when I did not start buf-falo, days when I did not get even on theirtracks, but for the most part I startedgame every day of hunting. One day, forexample, after setting out at daylight andwalking six miles to tracks, I started noth-ing until late in the afternoon, about fouro’clock. Another day I found no freshspoor until shortly before sunset, and thenI came upon four—a bull, two cows and acalf. I was about one hour behind themand the tracks were getting fresher as I pro-ceeded. The fact that they were leadingto a piece of jungle a little less dense than

usual made me hopeful, and I followed asrapidly as I could make my way noiselessly,urging Wan to go swiftly, but silently; andWan did his work well. The tracks keptgetting fresher and fresher. Suddenly Icould hear the chopping of bamboo, andshortly afterward the tracks indicated thatthe buffalo had begun running. Soon wecame out almost at our camp. The buffalohad got the wind of our camp, which to-gether with the noise of bamboo cuttinghad frightened them out of leisurely travel.The men in camp said they had seen thebuffalo cross just below, running at fullspeed. Next morning at daybreak I pickedup these tracks again and followed them foreight hours through thick jungle swamp,but early in the afternoon they led to hardground and soon we lost them.

It was several days before I found othertracks and late, just about dark. So wepicked them up the next morning and fol-lowed all day until nearly dark; againthrough the dense jungle, among curiousclumps of bamboo, raised mound-like as ahuge ant hill, and occasional trees, lookinglike three or four trees stuck together, hav-ing a gross diameter of eight to ten feet.We left the tracks when it grew too dark tosee them, but I determined to follow themup in the morning and to go on alone withWan. In fact, my party had by nowdwindled to Thee, Nuam and Wan, for theothers, walked to a standstill, had returnedto the main camp. And indeed I was gladto be rid of them.

With the first light of day in the morn-ing we found the tracks, but nothing de-veloped until about three o’clock, when,hearing a little noise, we stopped in ourstalking and listened. I tried to learn thedirection of the wind, but it was impossibleto say if there was wind and, if so, what itsdirection. Yet again the noise, and westood so still on those very fresh trackswith the noise of the moving buffalo sound-ing in our ears, that I could hear my heartbeat. It happened that where we stoodwas about the densest of dense jungle; wewere literally encircled with twining rotan,bushes and cane, and thorn vines. I wasfearful of moving, but move we must inorder to approach the buffalo. I took thejungle knife away from Wan and gave himmy gun, for I wanted to be sure no noisewas made in cutting our path. Soon I dis-

438 Hunting with the Karens

carded the jungle knife and drew the smallerone I always carry in my belt for eating andgeneral utility. We made our way a fewfeet at a time, bending low in the effort toget a sight ahead and locate the buffalo,which we could now plainly hear moving.It seemed not over ten or fifteen yards off.The suspense was intense. The most ago-nizing thoughts chased through my head:that Wan would drag my rifle, that I woulddrop my knife, or stumble, or somethingwould happen to scare off our quarry, orthat I might sight it running before I couldget my rifle; yet I dared not let Wan do thecutting for, good man as he proved, I wasafraid of a slip; so afraid. I could not talkto him, could not impress upon him the im-portance of quiet; but I think my attitudeand my gestures made him think that some-thing very serious was about to happen.

Foot by foot I got a little nearer. Thenthere came a noise as though the buffalohad started, and my heart sank to my boots;yet, listening, it appeared he had not movedfarther away. Then again we began ourslow, painfully slow approach, all the timedreading that the buffalo might move off,even if we did not scare him away, becauseour catlike approach was consuming time.I prayed for an open piece of jungle, butit remained as dense as at first. Almostcrawling on my stomach so as to minimizethe cutting and to give me a better oppor-tunity of seeing in front, I worked ahead,hearkening for every sound, and reassuredby the noise such as cattle make whenresting, of feet stamping and tail switching.

Finally I thought I could catch sight ofthe tail as it switched, then, not over ten

yards away. I worked a little farther andthen reached back and took my rifle fromWan, determined now to squirm ahead,if it was humanly possible to do so, with-out cutting; keeping my gun at a ready.But it was utterly impossible to go ahead,and I was making noise. I feared I couldget no closer into that thicket, yet the efforthad to be made; so, keeping the tail in myeye, I forced forward. The noise was start-ling: the tail stopped switching; it seemedto me I could see the outline of the hocksstiffen as the buffalo prepared to jump. Itwas a case of sheer desperation; making arough guess as to where its shoulder mightbe I fired, knowing that only by an ex-traordinarily lucky chance could I score.Instantly there was a tremendous racket.When we got to where the buffalo had stoodwe saw a little blood on the bushes, aboutrump high.

We followed the buffalo for the rest of theday—for half of the moonlight night—use-lessly, for the tracks grew dim and the shift-ing clouds and heavy foliage made it quiteimpossible to see. It was a mad chase, andWan was indulgent enough to remain withme uncomplainingly.

We lay down in the jungle to rest untildaylight without going to camp, which wasfar away, and then again—the tracks; butwe never saw that buffalo, and I hope noother hunter ever did; for I should like nowto think that my bullet made only a fleshwound which never embarrassed the buf-falo’s progress, rather than that the beastwandered at the mercy of the jungle greatcats, to fall an easy victim, or to die thelingering death of the seriously wounded.

The barking deer (Cervulus muntjac).