this time altogether,” he says, “it is a good practice to take a few books and dictionary of any foreign language you may wish to be learning.”  Again, his character as a thoughtful man may be seen in the warning he gives novices against ill-treating villagers, or allowing the shikaris to do so.  “Shouting and cursing at a coolie already dumbfoundered at the very sight of a white man is not the way to clear his understanding.”  His remark that native servants under cover of their master’s prestige will frequently tyrannise over the villagers reminds me of a story which I cannot forbear to tell.  A bridge had been thrown over a river in some outlandish part of India, and his work done, the Englishman in charge was returning to more civilised regions.  Just before turning his back on the scene of his labours he inquired of a villager whether he was pleased with the bridge.  The man expressed voluble admiration for the sahib’s great skill, but lamented the high toll that was charged for crossing the bridge.  “Toll!” exclaimed the Briton, “why, there’s no toll at all; the bridge is free to everybody.”  But the native still protesting that a charge was made, and saying that a notice to that effect was written up in big English letters, the engineer went down to the bridge himself to investigate the mystery.  There he discovered his own servant sitting at the receipt of custom, with a flaming advertisement of Beecham’s Pills pasted on to a board over his head, to which he pointed as his authority when questioned by rebellious natives.

Baden-Powell tells an amusing story of an impromptu boar hunt.  “At a grand field-day at Delhi, in the presence of all the foreign delegates, in 1885, a boar suddenly appeared upon the scene and charged a Horse Artillery gun, effectually stopping it in its advance at a gallop by throwing down two of the horses.  The headquarters staff and the foreign officers were spectators of this deed, and hastened to sustain the credit of the Army by seizing lances from their orderlies and dashing off in pursuit of the boar, who was now cantering off to find more batteries on which to work his sweet will.  The staff, however, were too quick for him, and, after a good run and fight, he fell a victim to their attentions, amidst a chorus of vivas, sacres, and houplas.”

The pig is a born fighter.  From his early infancy he learns the use of butting, and perceives, at an age when civilised piggies are just beginning to root up one’s orchard, that his growing tusks are meant for other uses than those of mere captivation.  Little “squeakers” have been watched by B.-P. having a regular set-to together, while the older members of their family sat in a pugilistic ring grinning encouragement.  Once Baden-Powell managed to secure a baby pig, and kept him in his compound, just as he had kept rabbits and guinea-pigs in England.  To watch this squeaker practising “jinking” from a tree ("jinking” is “pig-sticking” for jibbing), and charging ferociously at an old stump, was one of our hero’s pet amusements for many weeks.