UP A TREE IN THE JUNGLE 205 
night, he would have to seek water. But there was 
another danger—one of the natives, crazed by 
thirst and excitement, might run 4mok there in 
the tree. I planned, if we were forced to remain 
in the tree through the night, to take charge, dip- 
lomatically, of the krises and spears. I regretted 
having spent all the ammunition for my revolver 
on that useless fusillade the day before. 
The game resolved itself into an attempt to pierce 
the seladang’s sound eye; we lured him back, time 
after time, but could not drive a kris to the mark. 
Evening was approaching, and I thought the battle 
was over for the day. The seladang stood near. 
by, ignoring, for the moment, the sack we were 
dangling. Blood was flowing from a dozen wounds, 
When he took a step forward, we cried out in sur- 
prise. He was weakening! He almost tottered 
away, as if he had forgotten about us. 
Even though he had routed us completely, treed 
us and kept us treed and killed my good friend 
and assistant, Ali, I felt sorry for the beast, as I 
sat there watching him. He had put up a mag- 
nificent fight, and, half dead, he would muster his 
remaining strength and charge us again if we 
dared set foot on the ground. It was his victory 
until the moment he died. 
His head drooped lower; then he went down 
on his fore knees, bellowing weakly. Presently his 
hind quarters slumped down, and blood began ta 
flow from his mouth. 
