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saw a mouse-deer. And then wc ran into a herd of chcetal, but with no stag among them big enough for a trophy, said the jungle men. On. On. At noon wc stopped for lunch. A rug was spread under a tree, and out came the brass cans and what not. Most interesting. There were individual brass cans that were triple deckers, white rice with sour curds in one compartment, yellow rice with vegetables and herbs in another and in the third a hot, peppery combination of victuals that I couldn't tell you what they were. Anyway, it was all exceedingly good.
It is remarkable how grateful those hot things, Good eating curry and the like, are to the stomach in these climates. I believe one needs them. Our miserable ham sandwiches looked too disgusting, cold, limp, colourless, tasteless. Ugh ! Out of the big brass cans came more white rice and yellow rice in great handfuls for the jungle men. Their staple food is a cheaper but more nutritious grain like wheat, called 'ragi'. The rice was a treat. They sat happily in a circle, the rice piled on leaves before them, royally served by the palace servants, and ate with their fingers.
After lunch we came into different jungle. The trees were heavier, the undergrowth was grass, which in a few more weeks of monsoon would be higher than a man, — ten feet, they say. We were still tracking the bull bison, but most of us, replete with lunch, were lurching along half asleep and not thinking of
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