his gun at. In the jungle the air was as close as a hothouse, and the
perspiration ran down his face in streams.

"What an ass I was to come out!" he said angrily to himself. "This heat
is unbearable."

At that moment a crashing noise reached him from behind. Turning to
discover what occasioned it, he was just in time to see a large boar
cross the clearing and disappear into the bamboos on the further side.
Taking his rifle from the little Shan he set off in pursuit. It was no
easy task, for the jungle in that neighbourhood was so dense that it was
well nigh impossible to make one's way through it. At last, however,
they hit upon a dried up _nullah_, and followed it along, listening as
they went to the progress the boar was making among the bamboos on their
right. Presently they sighted him, crossing an open space a couple of
hundred yards or so ahead of them. On the further side he stopped and
began to feed. This was Grantham's opportunity, and, sighting his rifle,
he fired. The beast dropped like a stone, well hit, just behind the
shoulder. The report, however, had scarcely died away before the little
Shan held up his hand to attract Grantham's attention.

"What is it?" the other inquired.

Before the man had time to reply his quick ear caught the sound of a
faint call from the jungle on the other side of the _nullah_. Without
doubt it was the English word _help_, and, whoever the man might be who
called, it was plain that he was in sore straits.

"What the deuce does it mean?" said Grantham, half to himself and half
to the man beside him. "Some poor devil got lost in the jungle, I