May 3.—­We were up with the lark, and, having moved along the coast a few miles to the west of Bandipur, left the ship before six of the clock in pursuit of bear.  I had “khubbar” of one in the Malingam Nullah, and, after a brisk walk over the lower slopes, we entered the nullah and clambered up about 1500 feet to a quiet and retired spot under a shady thorn-bush, where we breakfasted.

We thereafter climbed a little higher, and then sat down while the shikaris departed to spy, their method of spying being, I believe, somewhat after this fashion:—­Leaving the sahib with his belongings—­notably the tiffin coolie—­in a spot carefully selected for its seclusion, the miscreants depart hurriedly and rapidly up the nearest inaccessible crag; this is “business,” and throws dust, so to say, in the eyes of the sahib, by means of an exhibition of activity and zeal.  Passing out of sight over the sky-line, the hunters pause, wink at one another, and, choosing a shady and convenient corner, proceed to squat, light their pipes, and discuss matters—­chiefly financial—­until they deem it time to return, scrambling and breathless with excitement, to relate all that they have seen and done.

So, while the shikaris unceasingly spied for bear, for nine mortal hours Jane and I camped out on a remarkably hard and unyielding stone, varied by other seats equally tiresome.

Fortunately we had brought books with us, and we relieved the monotony by observing the habits of a pair of “kastooras,” a hawk, and a brace of chikor at intervals, but it was truly a tedious chase.

At four o’clock the sons of Nimrod returned, declaring that the bear had been seen, but that as we had on chaplies and not grass shoes, it would be impossible for us to pursue him.  I asked the shikari why the ——­ goose he had let me come out in chaplies instead of grass shoes if the country was so rough?  His reply was to the effect that whatever it pleased me to wear pleased him!

May 4.—­Armed cap-a-pie so to speak, with pith helmets and grass shoes, we again set forth at dawn of day to hunt the bear.  Breakfast under the same tree, sitting on the same patch of rose-coloured flowers—­a sort of fumitory (Corydalus rutaefolia)—­followed by another nine-hour bivouac, brought us to 5 P.M. and the extreme limit of boredom, when lo! the shikaris burst upon us in a state of frenzied excitement to announce the bear!  Off we went up a steep track for a quarter of an hour, until, at the foot of a rough snow slope, the shikari told the much disgusted Jane that she must wait there, the rest of the climb being too hard for her, and, in truth, it was pretty bad.  Up a very steep gully filled with loose stones and rotten snow, scrambling, and often hauling ourselves up with our hands by means of roots and trailing branches, we slowly worked our way up a place I would never have even attempted in cold blood.

Twenty minutes’ severe exertion brought us to a shelf, or rather slope, of rock on the right, sparsely covered with wiry brown grass from which the snow had but very recently gone, and crowned by a crest of stunted pines.  Up this we wriggled, I being mainly towed up by my shikari’s cummerbund, and, lying under a pine, we peered over the top.