career is cut short.

I remember shooting one ghastly old scaly villain in a tank near
Ryseree. He had made this tank his home, and with that fatalism which
is so characteristic of the Hindoo, the usual ablutions and bathings
went on as if no such monster existed. Several woman having been
carried off, however, at short intervals, the villagers asked me to try
and rid them of their foe. I took a ride down to the tank one Friday
morning, and found the banks a scene of great excitement. A woman had
been carried off some hours before as she was filling her water jar,
and the monster was now reposing at the bottom of the tank digesting
his horrible meal. The tank was covered with crimson water-lilies in
full bloom, their broad brown and green leaves showing off the crimson
beauty of the open flower. At the north corner some wild rose bushes
dropped over the water, casting a dense matted shade. Here was the
haunt of the _mugger_. He had excavated a huge gloomy-looking hole,
into which he retired when gorged with prey. My first care was to cut
away some of these bushes, and then, finding he was not at home, we
drove some bamboo stakes through the bank to prevent him getting into
his _manu_, which is what the natives term the den or hole. I then sat
down under a _goolar_ tree, to wait for his appearance. The _goolar_ is
a species of fig, and the leaves are much relished by cattle and goats.
Gradually the village boys and young men went off to their ploughing,
or grass cutting for the cows' evening meal. A woman came down
occasionally to fill her waterpot in evident fear and trembling. A
swarm of _minas_ (the Indian starling) hopped and twittered round my
feet. The cooing of a pair of amatory pigeons overhead nearly lulled me
to slumber. A flock of green parrots came swiftly circling overhead,
making for the fig-tree at the south end of the tank. An occasional
_raho_ lazily rose among the water-lilies, and disappeared with an