The Maharajah certainly
did things on a grand scale. One of the English guests gave, with
perfect truth, his place of birth as required in the Indian Census
Return as "a first-class carriage on the London and North-Western
Railway, somewhere between Bletchley and Euston; the precise spot
being unnoticed either by myself or the other person principally
concerned."
The daily routine of life in the camp was something like this: We men
all rose at daybreak, some going for a ride, others endeavouring with
a spoon to lure the cunning mahseer in the swift-running river, or
going for a three-mile walk through the jungle tracks. Then a bath,
and breakfast followed at nine, when the various _shikaries_ came
in with their reports. Should a tiger have made a "kill," he would be
found, with any luck, during the heat of the day close to the body of
his victim. The "howdah" elephants would all be sent on to the
appointed rendezvous, the entire party going out to meet them on "pad"
elephants. I do not believe that more uncomfortable means of
progression could possibly be devised. A pad elephant has a large
mattress strapped on to its back, over which runs a network of stout
cords. Four or five people half-sit, half-recline on this mattress,
hanging on for dear life to the cord network.
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