UP A TREE IN THE JUNGLE 205 



night, he would have to seek water. But there was 

 another danger one of the natives, crazed by 

 thirst and excitement, might run amok there in 

 the tree. I planned, if we were forced to remain 

 in the tree through the night, to take charge, dip- 

 lomatically, of the krises and spears. I regretted 

 having spent all the ammunition for my revolver 

 on that useless fusillade the day before. 



The game resolved itself into an attempt to pierce 

 the seladang's sound eye; we lured him back, time 

 after time, but could not drive a kris to the mark. 

 Evening was approaching, and I thought the battle 

 was over for the day. The seladang stood near 

 by, ignoring, for the moment, the sack we were 

 dangling. Blood was flowing from a dozen wounds. 

 When he took a step forward, we cried out in sur- 

 prise. He was weakening! He almost tottered 

 away, as if he had forgotten about us. 



Even though he had routed us completely, treed 

 us and kept us treed and killed my good friend 

 and assistant, AH, I felt sorry for the beast, as I 

 sat there watching him. He had put up a mag- 

 nificent fight, and, half dead, he would muster his 

 remaining strength and charge us again if we 

 dared set foot on the ground. It was his victory 

 until the moment he died. 



His head drooped lower; then he went down 

 on his fore knees, bellowing weakly. Presently his 

 hind quarters slumped down, and blood began to 

 flow from his mouth. 



