THE MAHARAJAH CUTS THE ROPE.

These wild elephants in their native jungle appear colossal, and have not that dark, almost black, appearance that they acquire when tamed and frequently washed. In their natural state they are gray in color, and covered with red clay and mud, with bits of grass and leaves sticking to them.

The guiding-line of the beaters has to keep well away, and to be very careful to leave no opening in the chain. We

could now and then get a glimpse of the giants of the forest as they were moving on, led by an enormously large female-the largest I have ever seen-through the thick foliage, with its sheets of sunshine every now and then playing upon them, and intensifying the general surrounding darkness. At last the men got them near the gate of the outer enclosure; but again they were startled by something, and began, with loud and frightened trumpetings, to move in a side direction. Finally, however, they neared the gate, which, as well as the stockade, was well hidden by bamboo branches, the inside also being one dense inass of that plant, as any bare patches had been filled by sticking them into the ground; so we could only now and then get a glimpse of their backs or trunks as they raised them to break off some obstructing branch in their forward progress. Mr. Sanderson was ubiquitous, and at last, after many anxious moments, they passed the gate, which closed behind them with a bang, and the herd was in safe-keeping in the outer enclosure. One would fancy that now all would go smoothly and serenely, but the more difficult work now began of driving them into the small enclosure. As they were now in a comparatively small space, they grew more suspicious and alarmed, and were ready to look upon everything in their way as dangerous to them and to be avoided. The beaters were now collected, and Mr. Sanderson entered the outer enclosure with them to begin driving the herd into the inner one. This outer enclosure was about half a mile in diameter; and from this, which was also covered with very thick jungle, they had to be driven into the eastern corner, where the barrier to the inner enclosure was erected. Again a line was formed, and another shot gave the signal, when the elephants began, too, to move, and in the right direction. We could see all now very plainly from our platform as the drive progressed. Every now and then the elephants would make a stand,

when, with trunks uplifted high in the air, they would huddle together, not knowing in what direction to move. Their trumpetings and shrieks when one of them would turn to charge a beater were now very frequent, and they were getting very angry and ill-tempered. However, they were pushed gently forward, and by degrees were nearing the inner trap. It has happened that one of the herd, by making use of the back of a comrade who had tumbled into the ditch, has broken through the stockade, and so gained freedom again. So all round this were many men stationed with guns, mostly old matchlocks, to fire with a blank charge into their faces in case of such a rush. They seemed to fight very shy of the gate, and always, when nearing it, made off again, but were as pertinaciously driven back to it again

trap, and tried a backward rush; and though the gate weighed a couple of tons, the combined force of the herd would naturally have most easily smashed it, but a blank charge from Mr. Sanderson's four-bore turned them, and a herd of thirty-six elephants was added to the many captured by this great sportsman. The capture of wild elephants had been tried before in the state of Mysore under the Mohammedan rule of the great Hyder, but proved a signal failure. I believe it was tried again in the days of Tippoo Sultan, who fell at the storming of Seringapatam by Colonel Arthur Wellesley, the late Duke of Wellington, when the Mohammedan rule in India was finally broken, and the Hindoo dynasty restored under the rule of Krisha Raj Wadeyar. There is still to be seen near

shoulders. They predicted failure and misfortune before his brilliant kheddah operations in 1873, the very first, and which turned out such a success.

In isolated cases formerly single elephants were caught by noosing them with tame ones. This was practised in Nepaul and Bengal, but no large ones were ever caught, it being very dangerous for the tame ones. Mr. Sanderson has also been very successful in the north of India, among the hills of Chittagong, where he was sent by the government, after his success recorded above, to establish a kheddah and get it into working order. One catch of eighty-five is recorded. In all his expeditions he has had the assistance of a very peculiar kind of jungle wallahs called kurrabas, who are the aborigines of this country. They have curly hair like negroes mostly, not straight like the Hindoos; they also eat the flesh of the bison or of a cow, which the Hindoos will not, as they worship it and regard it as a sacred animal. They pray to jungle spirits, elephants, tigers, and the large trees, and no doubt have added to their divinities, as the conqueror of ferocious animals, their great shikaree Sanderson. Their chief and infallible tracker is their priest or headman Bommam Gowda, an extraordinary-looking object, with white matted hair and beard. With no other dress than a loin cloth, and no other arms but a bamboo, he will wander for weeks with Mr. Sanderson after a herd of elephants, or follow the tracks of a wounded tusker or tiger, and bring the shikaree up to the quarry without ever failing. He sleeps at night under a tree, after a supper of curried rice and a smoke, with perhaps a little grog, of which he greatly approves. Without such tracker, the sportsman will never make a large bag in the Indian jungles, and on them depends his success, provided always that he uses "straight powder."

A weird scene it was at nightfall, when the gates were made secure, and large fires lighted all round the enclosure, where the herd stood closely together, facing outwards, all the dense jungle trodden into thick black mud by their wanderings round and round, searching for an opening of escape; the beaters and coolies preparing their evening meal; the watchers seeing that all is safe and right for the night; and our horses being

led up and down, ready for the returning journey to camp, accompanied by many torch-bearers-a sight not easily forgotten; the return to the camp, also, in the pitch darkness but for the glaring torches, our cavalcade passing under the giant trees and through the matted jungle, where, had we not been a large party, a tiger might have jumped out upon us, and dragged off one to be devoured at its leisure. Colonel Sir Edward Bradford had his arm literally chewed off close to the shoulder some years ago by a maneater, whom he had followed into the jungle on foot, and but for the bravery of his native shikaree, would have lost his life.

When we arrived in camp, a bath and a change from our shooting suits into cool and comfortable smoking or evening clothes soon set us up again, and it needed not hot sherry and bitters to make us enjoy a capital dinner after such a long and exciting day. Of course curry played a great rôle in the repast. You cannot get really good curry out of India, as it must be made of the fresh herbs, and there are so many things added to it as side dishes that we do not understand and are unable to get. It is not of necessity always hot. Some curried meats and vegetables are quite mild to the palate, although some are too hot for a European who has not passed a lifetime in India. A native will smack his lips and ask for more of a curry that you absolutely find impossible to swallow, and to which the hottest of West Indian pickles compares very mildly. Yet how we missed our curry after leaving the hospitable shores of Hindostan behind us! For a long time afterwards our meals seemed imperfect for the want of it. There they consider it as necessary to tiffin, or dinner, as bread itself. The dinner was long and very good, and seldom have I done more justice to one; the champagne was well iced, and the claret not too cool. The air was delightful, as at this elevation the evenings are never hot. We talked all the events over again, and after dinner thoroughly enjoyed our cigars before a big bonfire before turning in to well-earned repose.

The next morning we were up betimes, and after early chota hazrie—i.e., a cup of tea and bread-and-butter-we again prepared to start to the kheddah. Some rode there on one of the Maharajah's elephants,

on which seats were arranged to seat three on each side, Irish jaunting car fashion, but many preferred the saddle. Few persons can stand the long swinging stride of the elephant without the feeling of dizziness. On that day the work of securing the elephants singly began, and promised to be of the greatest interest. Mr. Sander son had some eighteen koomkies, that is, tame elephants, at his disposal. These are especially trained to the capture of their kind; in fact, without their assistance elephant-catching would be almost an im

possibility; at any rate, a far more dangerous, laborious, and troublesome business than it is. The koomkies detach a wild elephant from the herd, and three or four will then surround it, and squeeze themselves quite close up to it, so that it cannot move in any direction. They each have, of course, their mahout, or driver, and have a sort of rope harness round them to enable the men on foot in the kheddah to take refuge on their backs if necessary, as a wild elephant will very seldom attack a man up there, but when badgered about, as he generally and necessarily is before being secured, will at once charge a man on foot. These skilled noosers, who enter, so to say, the arena seated on the koomkies' backs, slip gently down when a wild one is hemmed in, and getting between the legs of a tame one, slip a noose round the captured one's hind legs and hobbles him. On feeling the ropes, the brute naturally begins to kick and swing his huge forelegs, and woe be to the man who should come within his reach. After being hobbled, a great hawser is put round his legs, and a tame elephant pulls this hawser with his teeth round the nearest tree; other tame ones push the hobbled ani

mal towards him, and when his hind legs are close against the tree, they are secured by many turns of the hawser.

On our arrival at the kheddah we found Mr. Sanderson already hard at work. With the sleeves of his flannel shirt tucked up and an old battered straw hat on his head, he was everywhere at once and looking after everything. He has been so much under India's burning sun that he wears this slight head-covering with impunity, although had one of us been foolhardy enough to attempt it, a sun