of the Old World. 253 



immediately followed by a dismal howling chorus 

 from a troop of jackals. 



It was past midnight when we arrived at the bun- 

 galow at Metrapolliam, a village on the right bank 

 of the river Bowani, and, after a few hours' repose, 

 started for the place where the elephants were said to 

 be, just as the first streaks of grey in the East pro- 

 claimed the dawn of day ; and after a tramp of about 

 twelve miles, some part of the way through very 

 dense jungle, we arrived at the huts of a Mulcher 

 tribe, where I left my horse and baggage-pony under 

 the care of the horse-keeper. They could hardly make 

 their way through the bush. 



The Mulchers gave us to understand that the herd 

 could not be at any great distance, as some of their 

 tribe had seen them the evening before, in a valley 

 close to the foot of the hills, and they had been heard 

 trumpeting during the night. 



We rested for an hour, and broke our fast by the 

 side of a beautiful little stream, which we followed 

 for some distance, when the Mulcher who served as 

 our guide pointed out to us the spoor of an ele- 

 phant about three days old, and shortly afterwards 

 we came upon the trail of a herd of eight, which I 

 made out to be about twenty-four hours old. 



It was now noon, and the rays of the sun were in- 

 tensely hot, so we sat down for an hour under a tree, 

 whilst the Gooroo and the Mulcher went to consult 



