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250 in this country? . . . . The Calcutta Bar, eh? Then I suppose you can count upon influence out there? . . . . Your father a Mooktear is he? I'm afraid I don't know what that is exactly. . . . A solicitor? Now I understand. So he will give you cases—in which I am sure you will distinguish yourself. But you'll have to work hard, won't you? . . . . I thought so. No more pig-sticking or tiger-shooting, eh? . . . . That's a drawback, isn't it? You're passionately devoted to tiger-shooting, aren't you? Unless I'm mistaken, you first won the plaintiff's admiration by the vivid manner in which you described your "moving accidents by flood and field"—another parallel between you and, eh? Well, tell me, I'm no sportsman myself—but it's rather a thrilling moment, isn't it, when a tiger is trying to climb up your elephant, and get inside the—what do you call it—howlah?—oh, howdah, to be sure; thank you, very much. . . . So I should have imagined. Still, I suppose, when you're used to it, even that wouldn't shake your nerve to any appreciable extent. You would bowl over your tiger at close quarters without turning a hair, would you not? . . . Just so. A great gift, presence of mind. And pig-sticking, now—isn't a boar rather an awkward customer to tackle? . . . . "You never found him so"? But suppose you miss him with your spear, and he charges your horse? . . . . Ah, you're a