Horns 



When 30-40 yards away he turned and eagerly 

 beckoned me forward with a wide grin on his face. 

 I now had a very bad three minutes, endeavouring 

 to walk like a fairy in huge shooting-boots over 

 dry, crackling leaves. Suddenly, before I had gone 

 more than half-way, I heard a short, sharp, snappy, 

 barking roar, followed by a rush and smashing of 

 twigs, and then silence. I saw nothing, but knew 

 instinctively that it must be a bison. The beast 

 had made off over a hill in front, and we at once 

 started to skirt it, Bishu gliding along like a snake, 

 and I feeling as if. I was an elephant moving 

 through the jungle. On rounding the hill I found 

 Bishu, who had got ahead, in the bed of a small 

 nullah, beckoning to me frantically, again with 

 the well-known grin on his features. I advanced 

 very slowly and quietly, and as I did so heard a 

 movement in the low jungle on the opposite side 

 of the ravine. I glanced eagerly at the place, 

 and there was the outline of the upper part of a 

 great black mass with two yellow-black horns 

 slowly moving up the hill-side. My heart jumped 

 into my mouth as I saw my first bison, a fine old 

 bull, in front of me. The bull stopped diagonally 

 on offering a fair shoulder shot. Did I gaze at 

 the glorious sight one instant too long, or was it 

 only the excited state of my nerves ? Who knows ? 

 I raised the rifle and sighted on the shoulder. 

 Before I could press the trigger the bull turned to- 

 wards me, head on — then suddenly wheeled round 



