\b THE RIFLE AND HOUND IN CEYLON, chap. hi. 



floor him, and I awaited his onset with comparative 

 carelessness, still keeping my eyes opposed to his 

 gaze. 



At this time I heard a splashing in the watei 

 behind me, accompanied by the hard breathing of 

 something evidently distressed. The next moment I 

 heard B.'s voice. He could hardly speak for want of 

 breath, having run the whole way to my rescue, but 

 I could understand that he had only one barrel loaded, 

 and no bullets left. I dared not turn my face from 

 the buffalo, but I cautioned B. to reserve his fire till 

 the bull should be close into me, and then to aim at 

 the head. 



The words were hardly uttered, when, with the 

 concentrated rage of the last twenty minutes, he 

 rushed straight at me ! It was the work of an instant. 

 B. fired without effect. The horns were lowered, their 

 points were on either side of me, and the muzzle of 

 the gun barely touched his forehead when I pulled the 

 trigger, and three shillings' worth of small change 

 rattled into his hard head. Down he went, and 

 rolled over with the suddenly checked momentum of 

 his charge. Away went B. and I as fast as our heels 

 would carry us, through the water and over the plain, 

 knowing that he was not dead but only stunned. 

 There was a large fallen tree about half a mile from 

 us, whose whitened branches, rising high above the 

 ground, offered a tempting asylum. To this we 



