HIS FIRST BISON. 183 



of one of the cows, and a short warning grunt 

 gave notice to the herd that something unusual 

 was approaching. Instantly every head was 

 turned in our direction. Kartik was much too 

 good a shikaree to move. He was flat on his 

 stomach. Any sudden movement on my part 

 would have sent the herd off helter-skelter. Inch 

 by inch I rose to my feet, the whole herd gazing 

 intently at this novel object. Inch by inch, and 

 my Paradox is raised to my shoulder. With an im- 

 patient stamp the bull comes a yard or two nearer 

 to view this strange intruder. Ah ! the excitement, 

 the intense pleasure of that moment, to know 

 that one clutch of the fingers, and that great brute 

 would be at my feet. Black as jet, with brown 

 to the knees, and a patch of brown on the 

 forehead, he looked superb as, pawing the 

 dust, he gazed in my direction with lowered head 

 ready for the attack. What chance had the 

 heaviest weapon against that massive frontal bone ? 

 No, I must not move. I must wait till a vulnerable 

 point offers. Will he never move ? At last he 

 raises his head, and sniffs the air, as if to scent 

 out the danger. Fatal movement ! He exposes his 

 chest, and a single bullet lays him low, while the 

 remainder of the herd scamper off helter-skelter. 

 I stood with gun at shoulder, ready for a second 

 shot, should he rise and charge, or attempt to 

 make off. The well-trained Kartik was still prone 

 on his stomach, as he knew that, if he moved and 

 attracted the bull's attention, and it had still life 

 enough left to charge, he would be the objective. 



