JAUNTS IN THE JUNGLE. 51 



gun to the shoulder I pulled the trigger, determined 

 not to let him off without a random shot, and in 

 this instance it was as efficacious as a more deliberate 

 one would have been, for the ball striking him in the 

 back bone, I could see his spring was broken before 

 he reached the ridge he sprang for. His fore legs 

 alone reached the rock, and his hind legs would even 

 then have found a leverage below to have carried him 

 on, had not his hind quarters become perfectly power- 

 less. 



Clinging on by his two fore hoofs, he struggled for 

 upwards of a minute with most desperate energy, till, 

 slowly and by degrees, the little hold he had got 

 gradually became less and less, until he had receded to 

 the very edge of the rock, there hanging on for a 

 moment in agony, he lifted up his head as if in one 

 imploring look for help from heaven, and nature re- 

 linquishing the struggle, the next moment saw him 

 bounding from crag to crag into the ravine below, 

 his whole frame appearing at each bound to crash 

 into a pulp, or a million fragments ! 



But he was gone! irredeemably lost to me and my 

 heirs for ever ! What would not I have given for his 

 antlers, and for his skin ! 



If ever I felt inclined to the melting mood (except 

 the perspiring one) it was at that identical moment. 

 To have squatted down then and there, and, digging 

 my knuckles into the corner of my eyes, to have 

 given way from sheer vexation and rage to the in- 

 E 2 



