40 The Hunting Grounds 



the heel a lift of the bridle a Chiffney rush 

 and the victory was won. The blade of my spear 

 was planted deeply into his loins. 



With a ferocious grunt, a rolling of the eyes 

 which portended mischief, and a champing of his 

 tushes, he turned short round and charged. I 

 wheeled Lall Babba round on his haunches, just 

 in time to evade his frantic rush, he passed me 



like a shot on the near side, and attacked N , 



who was a couple of lengths behind, who received 

 the charge on the point of his spear I saw the 

 bamboo shaft bend like a wand, and then fly high 

 up into the air; another second I heard a crash, 

 and horse and man were rolling in the dust. 



In the twinkling of an eye I was alongside the 

 infuriated animal, who was indulging in a series 

 of grunts of defiance, preparatory to another 

 charge, and, watching my opportunity, I buried 

 the blade of my spear behind the shoulder blade, 

 and drove it out of his breast. He uttered a faint 

 squeal (the note of departing life), gave a sudden 

 twist (his expiring effort), which wrenched the 

 spear from my hand, struggled a few paces further, 

 fell, and bit the dust, dying game to the last. 



I dismounted, and drew my hunting-knife across 

 his throat, to let out the blood, loosened the girths 

 of my saddle, and then went back to see what had 

 become of N . 



