camped for the night, and here an event occurred which made me sanguine of success.

Kadera came into my tent toward sundown to inform me that two large black bears had recently been seen in the hills directly behind the village, and suggested that we go back a few miles on the chance of running across one. We accordingly set out with a "gam wallah" or local guide, who led us up into the hills and placed us at the foot of a long slope covered with low furze bush, where we crouched for a couple of hours. Toward dark my eye was caught by a large object moving across the open hilltop some three hundred yards from our position. Its apparently enormous size made me think at first that it must be a stray bullock and the fact that the shikaris, usually so quick to sight game, remained motionless almost kept me from calling attention to it. Yet bullocks are seldom black, and there was that about the gait of this animal which told me it was something quite different. I touched Kadera on the shoulder and pointed. The result was startling; Kadera dropped on his stomach as if shot, while the gam wallah did the same, causing me to realize that the fast-disappearing object above us was one of the largest black bears I probably should ever have the fortune to run across. As we were about to stalk, a peasant came toward us in hot haste from the opposite direction and explained in some excitement that a bullock had been killed within the hour, not far from where we were, and that a bear was still at the carcass. As it was now much too dark to stalk the other successfully, we quickly shed all unnecessary garments and prepared to follow our new guide through a terrible tangle of underbrush. We were on our hands and knees most of the way and as we came toward the spot indicated by the peasant, our efforts to move silently were trying in the extreme. By the time we reached it the moon was shining through the undergrowth, making every stump exhibit such remarkably bear-like characteristics that more than one of them was in imminent danger of being shot.

The bear, however, must have heard our approach, for he was not with the body of the bullock, nor did he venture back to reward our long night's silent vigil.

Unfortunately there were no nullahs about here small enough to beat, and since

Kadera assured me that at the head of the valley we should find several bears for every one we gave up here, I agreed on the following morning to start along.

The country through which we passed on this ride showed Kashmir at her loveliest and best. One felt as if one were continuously crossing the well-kept grounds of a huge private estate and any moment would come on the towers and chimneys of some lordly mansion. There was no road: one passed over the greenest grass, smooth and fresh as any lawn, extending as far as one could see, except where groves of wide spreading chenar trees cast their shade like oaks on a country park. Roses, not our wild ones, but such roses as at home are brought to flower only under hothouse panes, and wild flowers of all colors and species, grew along our way and filled the air with fragrance. In the midst of such surroundings, to come suddenly upon the dirty little hovels of a native village, with the fresh lawn extending to its very door and the chenar trees growing around, seemed indeed incongruous.

The beaters arrived at camp the following morning. They began to come in twos and threes, then in fives and sixes, and finally in dozens, so that by the time breakfast was over, the entire male population of some three villages were grouped about my tent. With the help of the shikaris, fifty of these were selected and each given a slip of paper bearing my signature, for when they came for their wages at the end of the day, I did not wish the friends and relatives of the beaters as well as the beaters themselves turning up for payment.

The din these fifty souls succeed in making as they move in a long line up the base and two sides of a wooded nullah shrieking, howling, cat-calling, setting off fire crackers and beating tum-tums, is enough to drive any self-respecting bear out of his seven senses. An army of battle-shouting dervishes could hardly create a greater amount of uproar, nor is it at all surprising that the bear should find a pressing engagement elsewhere at the earliest possible moment after finding his nullah thus rudely invaded. If he turns down the nullah, he encounters the invading army; if he tries to escape by the sides, he is met and driven back by beaters already posted. Therefore he does the most natural thing in the