IN THE SAL FORESTS 385 



black cranium of thine to him who, pondering, chews his 

 cud in the hollow yonder ! " 



The little Mdriah's crowlike eyes blink. He nods reflec- 

 tively. 



It is with feelings of gratitude that the hunter at length 

 creeps behind the afar-noted trees. The wide horn-tips 

 are still down there, but are seen this time from behind. 

 Fearfully is the breech of the cordite rifle gently set agape. 

 Two shining cartridges are still there ! A perspiring 

 palm is wiped dry on the clothing. The little Mdriah 

 should be at work now. A hot, oppressive silence broods 

 in the glade, and the somewhat quick breathing of the 

 sportsman must be checked. 



Slowly, certainly, but with a suspicious tilt, the great 

 sweeping horns turn towards the thin grass that must now 

 cover my co-operator, and so remain motionless. Anon 

 they are gently tossed from side to side in their resumed 

 role of fly-whisks. What can Dabbi be at ! Some minutes 

 elapse. The great ears are slowly turned forward, then 

 back ; then suddenly forward again with a twitch, and 

 there fix stiffly. 



A tiny dark object away beyond the couched Bubalus 

 raises itself a moment in the yellow grass, then drops 

 swiftly. The bull is on his legs instantaneously. What a 

 monster he looks, even at a distance of two hundred yards : 

 those betraying horns now laid back along the huge 

 shoulders, and his stern looming gigantic through the sal 

 saplings a great black rock, immovable as the granite 

 boulders of his native soil ! 



In a threatening attitude he takes a pace or two forward 

 away from me, and halts again, nose in air. I feel dis- 

 tinctly sorry for Dabbi, until reminded of his sprightly 

 activity and ape-like powers of climbing. 



After standing awhile in this attitude the bull turned 



2 C 



