Horns 



to the place in which our camp, which was moving 

 that day, had orders to pitch at. He said we were 

 a good 6-8 miles away from camp, and his esti- 

 mate turned out to be fairly correct. We picked 

 up the camp at 6.30, I in a very cast-down frame 

 of mind at having missed my first bison. 



It was but a couple of days or so later, and whilst 

 on the same trip, that I wounded a bison. We 

 had started before dawn, as usual, and had 

 followed the trail of a couple of bison all the 

 morning. At about 11.30 we found ourselves on 

 the summit of a watershed, from which a fine view 

 of the surrounding forest-clad hills and cultivated 

 plateaux was obtainable. I elected to stop here 

 and lunch. We got on the move again before 

 I p.m., and following down the slope of the water- 

 shed, Bishu suddenly dropped like a stone. I 

 did the same, and for a minute no movement was 

 made. Then Bishu wormed his way a yard or 

 two forward, and peered over the far side of the 

 crest we were on. He waved me forward, and on 

 reaching him, there below me was a herd of bison 

 taking their midday siesta under a fine old mango 

 tree. They looked just like a herd of cattle in the 

 old country. Some were seated, others standing 

 up flicking off the flies with the brushes at the 

 ends of their long tails whilst they chewed the cud. 

 Some of the youngsters were wandering about in 

 that restless fashion common to youngsters of all 

 species of mammals. 



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