the pebbles and pools of water it looked like a stranded cat.  It had not progressed very far when a well-directed shot laid it low; and with this unexpected prize the party sat down to lunch in excellent spirits.  As rhino generally fight shy of elephants, they did not think there was much use continuing the beat after lunch.  So they decided that they should make tracks for home and have general shooting.  General shooting means that there is no beating line.  A long straight line of march is formed, and each gun elephant is in between the pad or beating elephants.  The Maharajah was almost the last gun in the line.  Nearly all were out of the jungle when his keen and practised eye noticed a small pad elephant jib at something as they passed through a piece of jungle.  “Did your elephant refuse to come through?” he questioned the mahout of the small elephant.  “Yes, Maharajah, he smelt something in the jungle,” the man replied.  “Beat this piece of jungle”, the Maharajah quickly ordered the pad elephants with him.  They beat it and drove forth a rhino which fell dead to the Maharajah’s gun.  Before His Highness had time to take up his other rifle, a second galloped out of the jungle and charged straight at the Maharajah’s elephant.  The elephant spun round to avoid the furious onslaught and in the meantime the Maharajah managed to raise his gun and, getting in his shot in spite of the gyrations of the elephant, laid out rhino No. 2 in grand style to the applause of his companions.

Coming back to camp in the dusk one evening, the Maharajah, who had wonderful eyesight, thought he saw a tiger lying still in an open field.  He raised his gun and whispered to his mahout.  As they came nearer, the tiger—­for tiger it was—­raised itself to its feet and prepared to spring at the elephant.  Too late!  Snap went the Maharajah’s trigger and the royal beast lay dead,

These are but a few of the shooting adventures of a sportsman-Maharajah who has gone on the long journey from life to the greater life beyond, but whose memory lives in the annals of Bengal as a keen and successful shot.

THE END