The shot had not killed the crane. It flapped its wings and dragged itself out of the pool of blood a few feet farther towards him and pecked away fiercely with its long, powerful beak. The snarling and snapping Alsatian kept a discreet distance. Then the other crane flew back and began to circle overhead, crying loudly. It dived down low over the dog to frighten it away.

‘Leader, give the other one its salvation too. Let them be together in heaven or hell.’

‘Yes, let’s see you take a flying shot,’ added Madan.

The argument appealed to Sher Singh. The anguished cry of the flying crane was almost human. If he did not silence it, it would continue to haunt him for a long time. If both of the pair were dead, perhaps they would be together wherever cranes went after death. Sher Singh took out the magazine of his rifle and pressed six bullets in it. He followed the crane’s flight with his barrel and fired when the bird was almost above him. The bullet went through one of the wings. The bird wavered badly in its flight and some feathers came floating down. Sher Singh fired the second shot. Then the third and the fourth and emptied the magazine. The crane flew away across the swamp, ducking nervously as the bullets whistled by in quick succession.

Sher Singh blew the smoke out of the barrel once more.

In his excitement he forgot to pick up the empty cases.

‘Its time is not up yet,’ said Madan to console him. ‘Put this one out of its agony.’

Once having embarked on the bloody business, Sher Singh could not stop half way. He walked up to the injured bird and put his right foot on its neck. The crane began to kick violently and gasp for breath. Its beak opened wide showing its thin, long tongue. Sher Singh took out his revolver and fired two shots into its body. The bird’s dying gurgle was stifled in its throat. Its legs clawed the air and then slowly came to a stop in an attitude of prayer. Blood started trickling from its beak and a film covered its small black eyes.

‘This one is finished. Let us take it to the jeep and baptize our weapons in its blood.’

Two of the boys caught the crane by the wings from either end and dragged it out of the swamp. Dyer sniffed at the dead bird’s head dangling between its trailing legs and began to run round in circles yapping deliriously. Sher Singh saw his handiwork and a lump came up in his throat. He did not respond to the backslapping and hilarity of his companions.