202 TRAPPING WILD ANIMALS H 
colored beast plunged past me, I slashed. The blade 
hamstrung her, and she plunged, bellowing, into 
the jungle. Then the bull, instead of catching Ali’s 
body on his horns, allowed it to fall to the ground 
and turned toward me. I swung up into the 
branches of the tree, just out of his reach, and 
slashed downward as he charged. I failed to hit 
him and I narrowly escaped falling. 
We could hear the cow bellowing furiously and 
dragging herself away through the jungle. She 
did not return. The bull charged back again and 
stood beneath me, pawing the ground and bel- 
lowing. Then he turned and attacked Ali’s body, 
trampling upon it, time after time, until every bone 
was broken. 
Each time the bull returned to the tree, I fired 
downward at him with my revolver, but I might 
just as well have used a pop-gun—the little bullets 
had no effect. One dynamite cartridge would have 
ended him, but my rifle lay on the ground five 
yards away. Night came on, but the seladang did 
not leave. I remained poised throughout the night, 
waiting for a chance to jump down and run for 
the rifle. Our thirst became terrible, and there was 
little consolation in the thought that the seladang 
was probably quite as thirsty as we were. But 
there was some chance that he would leave us for 
a few moments to find water, and I needed only a 
moment to get the rifle and climb back into my 
tree. 
