THE BARA SING. 817 



I was now lying down, completely blown, and my hand, 

 in consequence, so unsteady that I would not risk a shot, 

 hoping that he might yet come on. But no : he turned, 

 and trotted up to the crest of the ridge to take covert. 

 The case being urgent, I rested the Whitworth on Sub- 

 han's shoulder, and aiming forward and high struck him 

 somewhere behind the shoulder, but high. He was then 

 on the sharp ridge, and apparently flinched, and fell to 

 the shot. We speeded up as fast as the steepness allowed, 

 expecting to view the animal ; but he had dived down the 

 precipitous bank into the jungle. We were soon on his 

 tracks, easily found and followed by the blood which 

 appeared to have been spurting out of the wound. We 

 thought we were sure of him ; but daylight failing, and the 

 blood diminishing, we came to a fault, and, though hitting 

 off the slot again, could not work it out, so reluctantly 

 gave it up, resolved to take up the pursuit in the morning. 

 We climbed back, and made for our bivouac. It was 

 now black dark, and our fires were blazing away famously, 

 lighting up the black masses of firs in the midst of which 

 was our camp. Dinner was soon ready. This was a 

 bright hour of a hunter's existence. The day had been 

 successful, and the morrow was full of hope and promise. 

 The bivouac, with its romance of situation, its glowing 

 fires, crackling and flickering, throwing a ruddy glare 

 over all surrounding objects, and thereby revealing the 

 black recesses of the forest bringing prominently out 

 the picturesque groups, the giant shadow of one or other 

 of whom moving athwart, in execution of some culinary 

 work, was occasionally cast across the scene was in its 

 way perfect. I adjourned to the fire, and chatted and 

 planned with the two hunters : then retired to my lair, 

 thinking in the words of the old song, " Oh ! 'tis merry, 

 'tis merry, in good greenwood." 



