The inspection went off without memorable incident. The real interest of the trip lay in the native races and the pig-sticking camp, which the Rao Saheb had arranged to fill in the blank days while waiting for the weekly mail-boat.
The Rao Saheb was a man of about thirty, who, together with his younger brother, Karloba, had taken kindly to English ways; they played lawn-tennis on even terms with the officers and their wives, and when on horseback their costume was entirely English except for the brilliant puggri. The camp and all its accessories were furnished by the hospitality of the Rao Saheb; he was our companion throughout the day, dinner alone excepted, and nothing was omitted for the comfort of his guests.
Pig-sticking
We reached Wanoti Camp early in the morning, and the seven men who were carrying spears were soon on horseback. The country was flat and sandy, and bare except where patches of low scrub provided excellent cover. A few beaters were sent forward to drive out the game, and before long you could see some very solid-looking bodies, very low on the ground, moving amongst the bushes at a surprising pace: these were a "sounder" of pigs. The Rao Saheb selected one, the General another, and, being mounted on a capital white pony, I was close at his heels. This boar, which was scored to the General's spear, turned out to be the biggest of the seven which was the total for the day. But he was no sooner dispatched than we were off after another. Again the same spear was the first to touch him; then we lost sight of him as he crashed through a thick hedge. When we emerged through the nearest gap we found that the Resident had picked up his line, but while taking a thrust at him the pig jinked and tripped up the horse, so that both he and his rider rolled in the sand, while the pig went off with the eight-foot spear stuck in his body like a pin in a pin-cushion. If we had not been close at hand the savage creature would have turned and rent the fallen man, who, though unhurt, would have been defenceless.
In the afternoon the beaters started on the other side of the camp, and a most thrilling incident occurred. After a chase of about two miles our pig disappeared over the edge of a forty-foot precipice, which was the cliff-like side of a dry nullah; we had to look for a chine, and after a scrambling descent found him again, rather winded, hiding in a ditch about five feet deep and six to eight feet wide. The General had broken his spear in a previous conflict, and was therefore unarmed. There were two officers only with us, one of whom cried out, "If you do not know how to tackle him yourself, give your spear to the General, and let him try."
He took the proffered spear, and, handing over his pony, stepped down into the nullah, just opposite the boar, and with the lance under his elbow stood facing the fierce creature for some four or five minutes, till the latter suddenly rose up and plunged forward; but the spear was in readiness, the charge was stayed, and the animal fell back, run right through the throat.
While at Bhuj the following telegram reached the General:
"From Military Secretary, Chief, Calcutta: Chief proposes to select you to officiate in command Quetta District during absence of General Galbraith proceeding on leave to England. Please wire if agreeable to you."
It was followed two days later by another, from Sir Charles Nairne, Commander-in-Chief Bombay Army:
"I congratulate you both on going to Quetta. You will have a wide enough field there."