44 THE RIFLE AND HOUND IN CEYLON, chap. hi. 



port of the gun echoed over the lake, but there he 

 stood as though he bore a charmed life ; — an increased 

 flow of blood from the wound and additional lustre in 

 his eye were the only signs of his being struck. 



I was unloaded, and had not a single ball re- 

 maining. It was now his turn. I dared not turn to 

 retreat, as I knew he would immediately charge, and 

 we stared each other out of countenance. 



With a short grunt he suddenly sprang forward, 

 but fortunately, as I did not move, he halted ; he had, 

 however, decreased his distance, and we now gazed at 

 each other within ten paces. I began to think buffalo- 

 shooting somewhat dangerous, and I would have 

 given something to have been a mile away, but ten 

 times as much to have had my four-ounce rifle in my 

 hand. Oh, how I longed for that rifle in this moment 

 of suspense ! Unloaded, without the power of defence, 

 with the absolute certainty of a charge from an over- 

 powering brute, my hand instinctively found the 

 handle of my hunting-knife, a useless weapon against 

 such a foe. 



Knowing that B. was not aware of my situation at 

 the distance which separated us (about a mile), with- 

 out taking my eyes from the figure before me, I raised 

 my hand to my mouth and gave a long and loud 

 whistle ; this was a signal that I knew would be soon 

 answered if heard. 



With a stealthy step and another short grunt, the 



