Then, from the inadequately
partitioned chamber where the invalid vainly sought repose, came sounds of
strife--boots and curses flying--followed by an extraordinary scraping and
scuffling. A large rat, having fallen into the big tin bath, was making
bids for freedom by ineffectually leaping up the slippery sides. At last
he contrived to get out, and peace reigned until we managed to get to
sleep.
Wednesday was spent honking in the forlorn hope of a bear, I have now
spent more than fourteen days in pursuit of black bear, and I have only
seen one. Every one said to me in spring, "Oh, go to the Lolab, it's full
of bear," I went, and was informed that it was a late season and I was too
early--the bears were not yet awake. I was consoled by learning that later
on, when the mulberries were ripe, the berry-loving beasts jostled one
another in the pursuit of the delicacy so much, that they were no sport I
went down from Gulmarg for three days, honking among the mulberries, but
saw none. Then I was told the maize season was undoubtedly the best. Now
the maize is full ripe; the maize fields are tempting in their golden
glory, and the only thing wanting to complete the picture is a big, black
bear.
Either my luck has been particularly bad (and I think it has, as the
Colonel got a fine bear below Gulmarg, and had another chance at
Rainawari), or else there are not so many bears in real life as exist in
the imaginations of those who know.
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