THE MAHADEO HILLS. 139 



just in time to see a small herd of six or seven cows 

 and calves disappearing over a low shoulder on the 

 opposite side. But behind them slowly stalked one 

 bull — a majestic fellow nearly jet-black, and towering 

 like a young elephant in the rapidly-closing gloom of 

 the evening. As he reached the top of the rise he 

 paused and turned broadside on, his solemn-looking 

 visage facing in our direction. He was about ninety 

 yards from where I sat, with the heavy 8 -bore rifle I 

 had wearily dragged after him all day rested on my 

 knee ; and, forbidding though he looked, I sighted him 

 just behind the elbow and fired, fully expecting him to 

 subside on the receipt of two ounces of lead driven by six 

 drachms of powder. But there was no result whatever, 

 save a dull thud as the bullet plunged into his side ; 

 and he slowly walked on over the brow as if nothing 

 had happened. My other barrel caught him in the 

 flank, and then I seized the spare rifle that was thrust 

 into my hand, and sped across the intervening ravine. 

 I was toiling up the other side, very hot and much out 

 of breath, when a heavy crash beyond fell upon my 

 delighted ear. I had been in agony lest I had missed 

 the mighty target after all ; but it was not so. There 

 he lay as he had fallen, and rolled over down the hill 

 until stopped by a clump of bamboos. A mighty mass 

 of beef, truly, secured at last. But we were six or 

 seven miles from Puchmurree, and there was no more 

 than half an hour of daylight left. The road I knew 

 was frightful, with hundreds of ravines besides the 

 great one to cross, and it was not to be thought of at 

 night. After due consideration we determined to go 

 and sleep at a recently cut dhya that was known by the 

 people, about a mile from where we were ; so, leaving 



