As we rode slowly along, we learned many curious facts of jungle and
native life from the followers, and by noticing little incidents
happening before our eyes. Pat, who is so well versed in jungle life
and its traditions, told us of a curious moveable feast which the
natives of these parts hold annually, generally in March or April,
which is called the _Sirwah Purrub_.

It seems to be somewhat like the old carnivals of the middle ages. I
have read that in Sardinia, and Italy, and Switzerland something
similar takes place. The _Sirwah Purrub_ is a sort of festival held in
honour of the native Diana--the _chumpa buttee_ before referred to. On
the appointed day all the males in the forest villages, without
exception, go a-hunting. Old spears are furbished up; miraculous guns,
of even yet more ancient lineage than Mehrman Singh's dangerous
flintpiece, are brought out from dusty hiding-places. Battle-axes, bows
and arrows, hatchets, clubs and weapons of all sorts, are looked up,
and the motley crowd hies to the forest, the one party beating up the
game to the other.

Some go fishing, others try to secure a quail or partridge, but it is a
point of honour that something must be slain. If game be not plentiful
they will even go to another village and slay a goat, which, rather
than return empty-handed, they will bear in triumph home. The women
meet the returning hunters, and if there has been a fortunate beat,
there is a great feast in the village during the evening and far on
into the night. The nets are used, and in this way they generally have
some game to divide in the village on their return from the hunt.
Ordinarily they seethe the flesh, and pour the whole contents of the
cooking-pot into a mess of boiled rice. With the addition of a little
salt, this is to them very palatable fare. They are very good cooks,