There was a general murmur of assent. Only Sher Singh was reluctant. ‘You don’t want to smear the blood of a jackal or a crow on your guns, do you? What else can you find this time of the year? The shooting season closed two months ago.’

‘We will find something or other round about the swamp,’ assured Madan. ‘There may be deer coming to drink. Perhaps a duck or two which could not migrate.’

That decided him finally. Madan was the strong man of the University. He had won his colours in many games and had played cricket for his province. His performance against a visiting English side—he had carried his bat after scoring a century—had made him a local hero. He had brought the other boys with him and would have been the leader of the band except that he knew little of politics. And it was Sher Singh, and not he, who had arranged the smuggling of rifles and hand grenades from across the frontier. Although Sher Singh had assumed the leadership of the group, Madan was its backbone. He was both Sher Singh’s chief supporter and rival: one whose presence was an encouragement and a challenge at the same time.

‘OK, brother, OK,’ said Sher Singh in English and stood up. We must be quick. It will be dark in an hour.’ He collected the empty cases lying on the ground and put them in his pocket. The boys also stood up and brushed the dust off their clothes. They put their guns in the jeep. One of them volunteered to stay back.

Sher Singh loaded his rifle and led the party down the canal bank towards the marsh. Dyer ran ahead barking excitedly.

They crossed the stretch of chalky saltpetre and got to the edge of the swamp. There were no birds on the water. On the other side was a peepul tree on which there was a flock of white egrets. Right on the top was a king vulture with its bald red head hunched between its black shoulders. Beneath the tree were bitterns wading in the mud. The birds were over a hundred yards away; well beyond Sher Singh’s range of marksmanship.

The party surveyed the scene and considered the pros and cons of taking a shot from that distance. The vulture stuck out its head and the egrets began to show signs of nervousness. Suddenly there came the loud, raucous cry of a Sarus crane followed by another from its mate. They were in a cluster of bulrushes not fifty yards away. The boys sat down on their haunches and stopped talking. The cranes continued calling alternately for a few minutes and than resumed their search for frogs. The vulture and the egrets on the opposite bank went back to sleep.

‘Kill one of these. They are as big as any black buck,’ whispered the small boy.