IN THE JUNGLE
An Indian jungle--The trees--Creepers--Orchids--The
undergrowth--On an elephant in the jungle--Forcing a
passage--Wild bees--Red ants--A lost river--A _sambhur_
hind--Spiders--Jungle fowl--A stag--_Hallal_--Wounded
beasts--A halt--Skinning the stag--Ticks--Butcher
apprentices--Natural rope--Water in the air--_Pani
bel_--Trail of wild elephants--Their habits--An
impudent monkey--An adventure with a rogue
elephant--Fire lines--Wild dogs--A giant squirrel--The
barking deer--A good bag--Spotted deer--Protective
colouring--Dangerous beasts--Natives' dread of bears--A
bison calf--The fascination of the forest--The generous
jungle--Wild vegetables--Natural products--A home in
the trees--Forest Lodge the First--Destroyed by a wild
elephant--Its successor--A luncheon-party in the
air--The salt lick--Discovery of a coal mine--A
monkey's parliament--The jungle by night.
From the dense tangled undergrowth the great trees lift their bare
stems, each striving to push its leafy crown through the thick canopy of
foliage and get its share of the sun. The huge trunks are devoid of
branches for many feet above the ground; but around them twist giant
creepers which strangle them in close embrace and sink their coils deep
into the bark. Here and there a tree, killed by the cruel pressure,
stands withered and lifeless but still held up by the murderous
parasite. From bole to bole these creepers, thick as a ship's hawser,
swing in festoons, coiling and writhing around each other in tangled
confusion. Tree-trunk and bough are matted with the glossy green leaves
and trails of mauve and white blossoms of innumerable orchids. The trees
are not the slender palms that fill the pictures of tropical jungles by
untravelled artists, but the giants of the forest--huge _sal_ and teak
trees and straight-stemmed _simal_ with its buttressed trunk star-shaped
in section with its curious projecting flanges.
Through the leafy canopy high overhead the sunlight can scarcely filter,
and fills the forest with a pleasant green gloom. The undergrowth is
dense and rank--tangled and thorny bushes, high grass, shrubs covered
with great bell-shaped white flowers--so thick that a man on foot must
hack his way through it. But here and there are open glades where the
ground is covered with tall bracken. Near the hills and in the damper
jungle to the south the bamboo grows extensively. Beside the river-beds
are patches of elephant grass, eight to ten feet high, with feathered
plumes six feet higher still. This is so strong and dense as to be
almost impenetrable to men, but everywhere through it wild elephants
have made paths. Wherever the big trees have been felled and the sun can
reach the ground the vegetation grows more luxuriantly. And, in the
southern belt of the forest, where the water from the hills rises to the
surface again, the jungle is wilder and more tropical. Here are huge
tree-ferns, the under sides of the fronds studded with long and sharp
thorns. Cane brakes, through which none but the heaviest and strongest
animals can make their way, abound.
Through the tangled confusion of undergrowth and twisted creepers my
elephant forces a passage with swaying stride, as a steamer ploughs her
way through a heavy sea and shoulders the waves aside. I am sitting on
Khartoum's pad near the _mahout_ perched astride her neck, guiding her
by the pressure of his feet behind her huge flapping ears. A network of
leafy branches of low trees bound together by lianas bars her progress.
At a word she lifts her trunk and tears it down, while the _mahout_
hacks at bough and creeper with his _kukri_ or heavy, curved knife. As
she moves on she plucks a small branch and strikes her sides and stomach
with it to drive off the flies which are annoying her. For thick as her
skin is, yet the insects which prey on her can pierce it and drive her
frantic. And once, feeling a sudden pain in my instep, I looked at my
foot and discovered an elephant fly biting through a lace hole in my
boot. Khartoum, having driven off the pests temporarily, lifts the
branch to her mouth and chews it, wood and all. Bechan, her _mahout_,
espies a small creeper which is highly esteemed by the natives as a
febrifuge and is considered a good tonic for elephants. So he directs
her attention to it. Out shoots the snake-like trunk and tears it from
the tree around which it is growing; and, crunching it with enjoyment,
she strides on through the undergrowth. Suddenly Bechan, in evident
alarm, kicks her violently behind the left ear and beats her thick skull
with the heavy iron goad he carries, the _ankus_, a short crook with a
sharp spike at the end. Khartoum stops short, then moves off to the
right. Thinking that he has seen some dangerous wild animal I whisper in
Hindustani, "What is it, Bechan?" "Bees," he says shortly and points
apparently to a lump of mud hanging from a low branch right in our
former path. Then I understand that he would be far less alarmed at the
sight of a tiger. For a swarm of wild bees is regarded with terrified
respect in India. The lump of mud is a nest; and, had we continued on
our original course and brushed against it, we would have been promptly
attacked by a cloud of these irritable little insects whose stings have
killed many a man. So we prudently give the nest a wide berth. The wild
beasts of the forest are not its only dangers. As again Khartoum tears
her way through some low-hanging branches, I feel a sudden sting and
burning pain in the back of my bare neck. I put my hand to the spot and
my fingers close on a big red ant which, knocked from a bough, has
fallen on me and is avenging its being disturbed by burying its venomous
little fangs in my flesh. Though I crush it, the pain of its bite
lingers for hours. Sometimes one dislodges a number of these insects
when forcing a passage through dense jungle; and they at once attack the
man or animal they alight on. So it is necessary to keep a sharp
look-out for them as well as for bees. Nor are these the only perils
that lurk in the trees. Though in the jungle serpents do not hang by
their tails from every branch, as we read in the books of wonderful
adventures that delighted our boyhood, still there is supposed to be one
poisonous snake in the Terai which lies along the branches, and if
dislodged strikes the disturber with deadly fang. I fortunately never
saw one; though in another place I have shot a viper in a tree.
We plod steadily on through the jungle. A gleam of daylight between the
stems of the trees shows that we are approaching a _nullah_. Khartoum
comes to a stop on the edge of the steep bank of a broad and empty
river-bed. After the gloom of the forest the bright transition into the
glaring sunlight is dazzling. To the right I can now see the mountains
towering above us; and, two thousand feet up, on the dark face of the
hills, the three Picquet Towers of Buxa shine out in the sun. At our
feet on the white sand lie huge rounded rocks which have been rolled
down from the mountains by the furious torrents of the last rainy
season. The river-bed is dry now; but were we to follow it a few miles
to the south, we would find at first an occasional pool and then further
on the water appearing above the surface and flowing on in a gradually
increasing stream. For these smaller rivers are lost underground in the
boulder formation near the foot of the hills and rise again ten miles
further south.
Our elephant slips and stumbles over the polished, rounded rocks until
she reaches the opposite bank. Up it she climbs at so steep an angle
that to avoid sliding off I have to lie at full length along the pad and
hold on to the front edge of it until she regains level ground. We pass
from the glare of the sunlight into the cool shade of the forest, and
the trees close around us and shut off the mountains from our view. As
we push our way through the undergrowth the _mahout_ stops the elephant
suddenly. "_Sambhur!_" he whispers. Following the direction of his
outstretched arm my eyes see nothing at first but the tangled
vegetation, the straight tree-trunks and the curving festoons of
creepers. But gradually they rest on a warm patch of colour and I make
out the form of a deer scarcely visible in the deep shadows. "_Maddi_"
(a female) grunts Bechan disgustedly and urges on his elephant. For he
knows the Sahibs', to him, ridiculous forest law, which ordains that
females are not to be slain, although their flesh is more toothsome than
that of a tough old stag.
It is a _sambhur_ hind. Apparently aware of her immunity she stands
watching us unconcernedly. Accustomed to the wild species, other animals
allow tame elephants to approach close to them until they discover the
presence of human beings on their backs. So this hind looks calmly at
Khartoum. Her long ears twitch restlessly, but otherwise she is
motionless; and I can admire her graceful form and the rich brown colour
of her hide at my ease. But at last it dawns on her that there is
something wrong about our elephant. She swings round and crashes off
through the undergrowth and is lost to sight in a moment. And we resume
our course.
Across our path from bush to bush great spiders have spun their webs;
and Khartoum, pushing through them, has accumulated so many layers of
them across her face as to blind her. So the _mahout_ leans down and
tears them off. These spiders are huge black insects measuring several
inches from tip to tip; and their webs are stout and strong almost as
linen.
Something scuttling over the fallen leaves in the undergrowth draws my
attention and I raise my rifle, only to lower it when, with a frightened
squawk, a jungle hen flutters up out of the bushes and flies away among
the trees. These birds are the progenitors of our ordinary barnyard
fowl, and so like them that once close to Santrabari, when out with a
shot-gun, I let several hens pass me unscathed, under the impression
that they were fowls belonging to our _mahouts_. And when in the heart
of the forest I first heard the cocks crowing I thought that we were
near a village. In Northern India these jungle cocks are beautifully
plumaged with red, yellow, and dark green feathers and long tails. In
Southern India they are speckled black and white with a little yellow.
When in the forest villages the tame roosters crow, their challenge is
taken up and repeated by the wild ones in the jungle around. And the
natives often peg out a cock and surround him with snares to catch the
wild birds which come to attack him.
But now Bechan suddenly stops Khartoum and whispers excitedly, "_Sambhur
nur!_" "A stag." For a moment I can see nothing in the tangled bit of
jungle he points to. Then suddenly the deepened blackness of a patch of
shadow reveals itself as the dark hide of a _sambhur_ stag. We have
almost passed him. He is to my right rear; and I cannot swing round far
enough to fire from the right shoulder. But I bring up the rifle rapidly
to my left and press the trigger. As the recoil of the heavy .470
high-velocity weapon almost knocks me back flat on the pad I hear a
crash in the brushwood. "_Shabash! Luga!_ (Well done! Hit!") cries
Bechan and slips from the neck of the elephant to the ground. Drawing
his knife he dashes into the jungle. For, being a Mussulman, he is
anxious to reach the stricken stag and _hallal_ it; that is, let blood
by cutting its throat while there is life in it. For the Mohammedan
religion enjoins that an animal is only lawful food if the blood has run
before its death. This is borrowed from the Mosaic Law and is really a
hygienic precaution against long-dead carrion being eaten.
From the elephant's back I cannot see the quarry now, but I slip down to
the ground and leave Khartoum standing stolidly, contentedly plucking
and chewing leaves from the trees around. Following Bechan's track I
find him holding the horn of a still feebly struggling _sambhur_ and
drawing his knife across its throat. The animal is a fine old stag about
fourteen hands high. The bullet has broken its shoulder and pierced its
heart. But such a wound does not necessarily imply instantaneous death.
I have seen a tiger, shot through the heart, dash across a _nullah_ and
climb half-way up the steep bank until laid low by a second bullet. And
_sambhur_ and other deer stricken in the same manner will run a hundred
yards before dropping. But this stag will never move again of its own
volition. As the blood gushes from the gaping wound in the throat the
limbs twitch violently and are still. Then Bechan raises its head for me
to photograph. This done I look at my watch. It is almost noon and I
have been on the elephant's back since six o'clock, so I am glad of a
rest; and, sitting on the ground with my back against a tree, I pull out
sandwiches and my water-bottle and have my lunch. But, having on a
previous occasion been disturbed by a rogue wild elephant, I lay my
loaded rifle beside me.
Bechan is busily employed. He cuts off the head, _grallochs_ the stag
and begins to flay it. After my lunch I get up to help him; for a
sportsman in India soon learns to turn his hand to this gruesome task.
It is a long job; and the _sambhur_ is a heavy weight when we come to
turn him over. The skin, particularly on the belly, is covered with
ticks, some big, bloated and immovably fixed, others small and agile. We
have to watch carefully lest any of them lodge on us, which they are apt
to do; for, with its jaws once clenched in the skin, this insect can
only be got rid of by cutting the body off and then pulling the head
away, which generally takes a bit of one's skin with it. And the
irritation of a bite lasts for months.
[Illustration: A SAMBHUR STAG AND MY ELEPHANT.]
[Illustration: BRINGING HOME THE BAG.]
At last the animal is completely flayed and the skin rolled up into a
bundle; for it makes excellent leather, and is much used in India for
soft shooting-boots and gaiters. Then Bechan displays his aptitude for
the butcher's trade. With his heavy curved _kukri_ he divides the
carcass, hacking through the thick bones with powerful blows. Having cut
it into portable pieces (for a whole _sambhur_ weighs six or seven
hundred pounds) he leaves me wondering as to where the rope to tie them
up will come from. He looks around him and then goes to a
straight-stemmed small tree with grey and black mottled bark. He cuts
off a long flap of this bark, disclosing an inner skin. In this he makes
incisions with his knife, pulls a long strip of it off and cuts it into
narrower strips. He hands one of these to me and tells me to test its
strength. Pull as I will I cannot break it. This is the _udal_ tree
which thus provides a natural cordage of wonderful strength. It is very
common in the forest. Making a hole between the bones of a haunch Bechan
passes a length of this fibre through and knots it. Then it takes all
our combined strength to lift the haunch and bear it to where Khartoum
is still patiently waiting. With difficulty we raise and fasten it to
the ropes around the pad. And when at last we have secured all this
meat, destined for hungry officers and sepoys in the fort and the
_mahouts_ and their families in Santrabari we look like butchers'
apprentices. My khaki shooting-garments are stained, my hands are
covered with blood and grime. I gaze around me hopelessly for water,
though I know we are miles from a stream. But the resources of this
wonderful jungle are not exhausted. Bechan points to one of the myriad
lianas criss-crossing between the trees.
"_Pani bel._ The water creeper," he says. I have heard of this
extraordinary plant and look carefully at it. It is about two inches in
diameter, four-sided rather than round, with rough, corrugated, withered
bark, in appearance similar to the corkwood bark used for rustic
summer-houses in England. Bechan walks to a hanging festoon of it and
cuts it through with a blow of his _kukri_. Nothing happens. I am
disappointed; for I had expected to find it tubular and see a stream of
water gush out. But the interior is of a white pulpy and moist material.
Then Bechan strikes another blow and holds up a length of the creeper
cut off. Suddenly from one end of this water begins to trickle and soon
flows freely. I wash my hands, using clay as soap. Bechan then tells me
to taste the water. Holding the cut creeper above my head I let the
water drain into my mouth and find it cold and delicious as spring
water. This useful _pani bel_, like the _udal_, is found everywhere in
these forests; and, as I am anxious to learn all I can of jungle lore to
instruct my sepoys, I carefully note the appearance of both.
We have consumed two hours in the task of flaying and cutting up the
_sambhur_. We sit down to rest and smoke before moving on again. I
light a cigarette and Bechan pulls out the clay head of a hookah and
fills it with coarse native tobacco.
Then at length, with Khartoum hung round with meat and looking like a
perambulating butcher's shop, we move on again. After we had been going
for ten minutes we come to a spot where a number of trees, some nearly
two feet in diameter, have been uprooted, and their upper branches
stripped off. This is the work of wild elephants, which push down the
trees with their heads to reach the leaves in the tops. We find their
trail in the long grass and bushes--not wide, for elephants move in
single file, so that it is difficult to tell whether one or twenty have
passed. However here and there tracks diverge from the main trail and
rejoin it further on, showing where one of the animals has wandered off
to one side in search of some succulent morsel; and in the sandy bed of
a dry stream we find their footprints, huge, almost circular impression
in the dust. Each elephant seems to step exactly in the marks of the
leader. Even tame ones advancing over open country will walk in single
file if left to themselves. We reach a spot where the herd had evidently
passed the night. All around the grass is pressed down and shows where
the huge beasts lay down to sleep. Wild elephants usually halt from
about 10 p.m. to 4 a.m., then move and feed until 10 or 11 a.m., when
they stop and shelter from the heat of the day in thick jungle. About
three or four o'clock in the afternoon they get on the move again; and
if they come upon water then they bathe. They travel about twenty or
thirty miles in the day, though if alarmed will keep on for double that
distance.
While we are following this trail a loud crash ahead of us awakens the
silent forest. I think at once that it is caused by the herd in whose
tracks we are. But Bechan, who is a man of few words, mutters
"_bunder_". And I look up and see a troop of monkeys leaping through the
upper branches and hurling themselves in alarm at the sight of us from
tree to tree. But their insatiable curiosity brings them back to peep at
us. Once this curiosity in one developed into impertinence; and the
impudent little beast deliberately pelted me. It happened that day that
when on foot I had been attacked by a rogue elephant which I had only
brought down with a bullet in the head fifteen paces from me. Ruffled by
the encounter I was going back to camp, seated on Khartoum's back.
Passing under a big tree a jungle fruit fell on me. Then, raising my
head, I saw a monkey in the tree grimacing and grinning derisively at
me. Coming after the elephant's attack his insolence seemed to add
insult to injury, and I felt tempted to reward it with a bullet. But it
would have been unnecessary cruelty; and I passed on leaving him still
mowing and making faces at me.
We leave the elephants' trail and emerge on a "fire line"; for in these
Government forests parallel belts, about twenty yards broad, are cleared
annually in an attempt to confine the ravages of the jungle fires in the
hot weather. They run east and west and are a mile apart, so that they
serve not only as roads, but also as guides to one's whereabouts in the
forest. As we come suddenly out on the fire line we see two or three
fox-like animals playing in it. They are the dreaded wild dogs which do
infinite damage to game. Even the tiger regards them with dislike and
fear; for, small as they are, they will worry him in a pack, chasing him
night and day and giving him no rest. They keep him always on the move,
remaining out of his reach until he is exhausted from fatigue and want
of sleep. They are pretty little animals, generally reddish, with sharp
ears and bushy tails. As soon as these stray dogs in the fire line see
us they bolt off into the jungle before I can get a shot at them; for on
account of the harm they do to the game every sportsman tries to kill
them. I once came upon a _sambhur_ and her fawn being attacked by a
number of these jungle pests. The hind was circling round, trying to
keep between her offspring and the enemy, and striking at the assailants
with her sharp hoof. Whilst some of the dogs engaged her in front others
tried to dash in at the fawn, retreating at once when the angry mother
swung round at them. They had already hamstrung the poor little beast
and torn out one of its eyes; so, when they fled as soon as they caught
sight of my elephant and the hind ran off, I put the wretched fawn out
of its misery with a merciful shot.
Across the fire line we entered the jungle again. Along a branch over
our heads a small animal runs swiftly and leaps into a neighbouring
tree. It is a giant squirrel, a pretty animal with long and bushy tail
and thick black fur, except on the breast, where it is white. It peeps
at us from behind the tree-trunk and then is lost to sight in the
foliage.
Khartoum pursues her leisurely way through the forest; for, in thick
jungle where we must swerve aside to avoid trees and hack a path through
creepers and undergrowth, we hardly go a mile an hour. But on a road I
have timed her to walk at the rate of four miles an hour. Suddenly my
eye is caught by a flash of bright colour; and I see a _khakur_ buck and
doe bounding through the trees ahead. Laying my hand on Bechan's
shoulder I make him stop the elephant. Then as the graceful little deer
cross our front in an open glade I fire and drop the male in its tracks.
The doe bounds off in affright. As the _mahout_ picks up the pretty
animal, too dead for him to _hallal_ it, binds its legs together and
hands it up to me to fasten on the pad, only the thought of its
succulent flesh reconciles me to the slaying of it. The _khakur_, or
barking deer, as it is called from its cry, which is similar to a dog's
bark, is of a bright chestnut colour and has a curious marking on the
face like a pair of very black eyebrows raised in surprise and continued
down the nose. The male has peculiar little horns with skin-covered
pedicles about three inches long, from which project the brow antlers
and the upper tines, which curve inward towards each other. These horns
are small, six inches being considered a very good length. The buck has,
in addition, a pair of sharp, thin, curved tusks in the upper jaw, which
it uses as weapons of offence. Satisfied with our bag we turn Khartoum's
head towards home, and reach Santrabari before dusk.
Such is a typical day in the jungle. Sometimes, though rarely, I was
unsuccessful in procuring something for the pot. But on one day I shot
three _sambhur_ and a _khakur_. My Rajput sepoys would not eat the flesh
of the former; for, like most Hindus, they imagined that its cloven hoof
made it kin to the sacred cow. But the Mussulmans of the detachment,
and the _mahouts_ and their families, and our coolies were grateful for
the meat.
Tough as a _sambhur's_ flesh is, we officers were glad of it ourselves
when nothing better offered. But our Hindus rejoiced exceedingly
whenever one of us brought home a wild boar; and the Mohammedans were
correspondingly disgusted, as pork is anathema to them. The slaying of a
boar with a gun in open country where pigsticking is possible is as
great a crime in India as shooting a fox in a hunting county in England;
but in the forest it is permissible. There were a few _cheetul_ or
spotted deer very like the English fallow deer in our jungles; but I
only saw one herd and secured one stag all the time I was at Buxa. They
usually frequent more open forests; and the spots on their hide
assimilating to the dappled light and shade of the sun through the
leaves is a good example of Nature's protective colouring. Thus the
black hide of the _sambhur_ stag blends easily with the dark shadows of
the denser forest and makes them very hard to see.
One does not often meet the dangerous beasts of the jungle by day.
Tigers and panthers, though frequent enough, generally move only by
night. Yet I often saw on the tree-trunks long scratches where these
animals had cleaned and sharpened their claws, just as the domestic cat
does on the legs of chairs and tables. They keep out of the way of
elephants; and so I sometimes must have passed some great feline, whose
fresh tracks I had just observed, sheltering in the undergrowth and
watching us as we went by. I have seen high up on the stems and branches
other scratches which showed where a bear had climbed in search of
fruit. These animals, the dreaded large Himalayan variety, usually dwell
in the hills and descend into the forest by night, so that they are
rarely met with by daylight. The natives regard them with terror; for,
if stumbled upon accidentally by some woodcutter, they will probably
attack him and smash his skull with a crushing blow of a paw. In our
stretch of jungle I only came across one rhinoceros and a herd of six
bison, which, being protected by the rules of the forest department, we
could not shoot. Once my elephant put up a stray bison calf which looked
at us with mild curiosity until my orderly climbed down and tried to
catch it. It trotted off out of his reach and stopped to look back at
him. We drove it for a mile before us, hoping to shepherd it into camp
and capture it: but we lost it in thick jungle. Wild elephants I
occasionally came across, and had a couple of unpleasant adventures with
them.
The fascination of a day's sport in the heart of the great forest is
beyond words. Even if nothing falls to one's rifle the pleasure of
roaming through the woodland is intense. Of the world nothing seems to
exist farther than the eye can see down the short vistas of soft green
light between the giant trees. Lulled by the swaying motion of the
elephant--not unpleasant when used to it--one's senses are nevertheless
keenly on the alert; for every stride may disclose some strange denizen
of the jungle either to be sought after or guarded against. And the
beauty of it all. The fern-carpeted glades, the drooping trails of
bright-coloured orchids, the tangled shadows of the dense undergrowth,
the glimpses of never-ending woodland between the great boles. And
always the hush, the intense silence of this enchanted forest.
The generous jungle provides everything that savage man needs. The
profusely growing bamboo will make his house or bridge the streams for
him. Its delicate young shoots can be eaten. Its bark gives excellent
lashing. Slit longitudinally it will serve as an aqueduct and convey the
water from the mountain torrents to his door. Cut into lengths it makes
cups and bottles for him. Should he need a cooking-pot, a length of
bamboo cut off below a knot can be filled with water and placed on the
fire; and the water will be boiled and food cooked long before the green
wood is much charred. For food the forest offers deer, pigs, and fowl.
There are several varieties of edible tubers. The unopened flowers of
the _simal_ tree are eaten as vegetables; while its seed makes a good
nourishing food for cattle, and the cotton of its burst-open pods is
used for stuffing pillows. The _pua_, a shrub with hairy shoots and dark
grey bark gives the fibre which can be woven into cloth or made into
fishing-nets, twine and net-bags. There is a creeper, the bark of which,
bruised and thrown into a stream, stupefies the fish and brings them
floating to the surface, where they can be easily caught. The _pani bel_
gives man water to drink. And, if he is ill, another creeper makes an
excellent febrifuge, while the gum of the _udal_ tree is used as a
purgative, and fomentations of the leaves of a shrub called _madar_ are
excellent for sprains and bruises. Food, drink, clothing, houses,
household utensils, medicine; what more does savage and simple man
require?
The jungle was called upon to provide me with an abode; for camping in
tents in the forest was a very unsafe proceeding, owing to the wild
elephants which might rush over the tents at night or, from sheer
curiosity, pull them down and stand on them to the detriment of the
occupants. So I got Bhuttia coolies to build a bamboo hut for me up in
the trees. Twenty-two feet from the ground they constructed a platform
supported by the tree-trunks and branches; and on this they erected a
cosy three-roomed dwelling with walls of split bamboo and roof thatched
with grass. It was reached by ladders. Although it shook to the tread of
anyone walking about in it, it was very strong. Split bamboo partitions
divided it off into the three apartments, sitting, bed and bathroom. It
was quite a romantic dwelling, such as a boy steeped in the lore of
Robinson Crusoe or Jules Verne would have loved. I named it Forest Lodge
and regarded it with pride. I thought it safe from the destructive
tendencies of wild elephants; for it was supported entirely by the
neighbouring trees, with the exception of one long bamboo pole helping
to hold up the roof. But once when it was left empty some mischievous
elephant discovered it. How it entered into his thick skull to do it I
do not know; but he dragged on the bamboo pole until he brought the
whole in ruins about his ears. However, I had it built up again, this
time with an open lower story surrounded by a bamboo wall to be used as
a dining-room. On its apparently frail flooring of split bamboo I once
entertained eight planters who had ridden over to see Forest Lodge the
Second and who, with my junior officer, myself, and three servants, made
a total of thirteen persons standing on the floor at the same time.
When shooting or when in camp in the forest with my detachment, for I
often brought my sepoys down to teach them jungle lore and practise them
in bush warfare, I always occupied it. It was never again dismantled by
elephants; though a similar but smaller building close by, occupied by
my servants, was several times destroyed by them.
[Illustration: FOREST LODGE THE FIRST.]
[Illustration: FOREST LODGE THE SECOND.]
The fact was that its position invited attack. It stood near a path,
much frequented by elephants, leading to a salt lick in the hills a few
hundred yards away. This was in a curious amphitheatre in the foothills
where landslips had left exposed precipitous slopes of a curious white
earth impregnated with some chemical salts, probably soda or natron, of
which wild animals are extremely fond. Bison, elephants, and deer of all
sorts used to come here at night to eat this earth; and tigers prowled
around it in search of prey. Native _shikarees_ (hunters) erected
_machans_ or platforms over it to pot the deer at their ease. This
amphitheatre was almost a complete circle, save for one narrow chasm
which must have been cut by the force of water. It was a winding gully,
in places scarcely broad enough to allow the passage of an elephant with
a pad on its back. I wondered what happened when two tuskers met in the
narrow path. Its perpendicular sides were formed of the same white clay;
but at their bases were seams of coal, black and shining where freshly
exposed. When I saw them I thought that I had made a valuable discovery
of mineral wealth. But when I broke off lumps of the coal and placed
them on my camp fire I found that they would not burn; and I learned
that there is coal in these hills which is a thousand years too young
and, so, valueless. Thus faded my dream of the boundless wealth the
jungle was to give me.
Forest Lodge was a constant source of interest and wonderment to all the
monkeys in the neighbourhood. They used to gather in the tree-tops
around and hold conferences to discuss it. Perched on the branches
mothers with small babies clinging to them, sedate old men and frivolous
youngsters scratched themselves meditatively and chattered and argued as
to what manner of strange ape I was who had thus invaded their realm.
When restless young monkeys wearied of the endless discussion and
started to frivol, the elder ones seemed to rebuke their levity, and
when this failed to have the desired effect would spring with bared
teeth on the irreverent youth to chastise them; and the meeting then
broke up in disorder.
When my detachment was encamped around Forest Lodge the scene at night,
as I looked down from my windows, was truly Rembrandtesque. Their fires
glowed in the trees, lighting up the dark faces of the sepoys and
revealing with weird effect the huge forms of our transport elephants
restlessly swaying at their pickets, ears flapping and trunks swinging
as the big beasts incessantly shifted their weight from foot to foot.
Around the bivouac was built a zareba of cut thorny bushes; and the
guards mounted with ball cartridge in their pouches, not merely because
it is the custom of the Service, but to repel any prowling dangerous
beasts that might be tempted to visit the camp by night; for within
fifty yards of a sentry I had a shot at a bear; and a tiger killed a
_sambhur_ not a hundred yards from the zareba. And once I sat at the
window of my tree-dwelling listening to a tiger prowling around for a
long time, uttering short snorting roars but never approaching near
enough to give me a shot at him.
The voices of the men in the camp sounded loud through the silent forest
and must have astonished the wild animals making their way to the salt
lick close by, for at night all the jungle is awake. The beasts of prey
wander from sunset to sunrise in search of a meal; and the deer must be
on the alert against them. Only in the hot hours of the day dare they
repose in security and lie down to sleep in the shade of the
undergrowth. Even then they start at every sound, and the snapping of a
twig brings them to their feet; for to the harmless animals life in the
jungle is one constant menace. The birds and the monkeys in the trees
alone can devote the dark hours to slumber; there is no rest at night
for anything that dwells on the ground.
Now gradually the sepoys' voices die away and the flickering fires burn
low. The forest is hushed in silence, broken only by the eerie cry of
the great owl or the distant crash of a tree knocked down by a wild
elephant.