... His chickory walked in front, carrying
his bandobast."
"9 A.M.--Sat down to my solitary breakfast of poached ekkas and paysandu
tonga, with excellent chuprassies (something like scones). After breakfast,
tried on my new kilta, which I have had made quite short for walking. I
generally prefer walking to being carried in a pagdandy."
"Then took another lesson in Hindustani from my murghi, though I really
think I hardly require it! My attention a good deal distracted by the
antics of a pair of bul-buls (not at all the same as our coo-coos) in the
jungle overhead."
"7 P.M.--T. returned after what he called a blank blank day. He found some
bheesties (one of them a chikor ram or wild ghat) chewing the khud on a
precipitous dak."
"They were rather far off, about a mile he thinks, but he couldn't get any
nearer owing to a frightful ghari-wallah with deep piasses which lay
between, so he put up his ornithoptic sight for 2000 yards and 'pumped
lead' into the bheesties for half-an-hour."
"He says he _thinks_ he hit one, but they all went away--as his chickory
remarked--'ek dam,' and Tom agreed with him."
"He fell into a budmash on his way home and was half-drowned, but the
chickory, assisted by a friendly chota-hazri, managed to pull him out ...
quite an eventful day!"
"10 P.M.--The body of the ram chikor has just been brought in. It looks as
if it had been dead for weeks, but the doolie, who found it, says that in
this climate a few hours is sufficient to obliterate a body.
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