TRACKERS AND TRACKING 188 



tioned in Chapter III, by the tracker moving 

 on after being told to sit down. The herd, as 

 so often happens, were on a plateau, and we 

 could hear them moving about in the under- 

 growth as we got near it. Moung Twuni was 

 dropped behind a bamboo clump about a hundred 

 yards away, while I made a slight detour, so as 

 to avoid coming right on top of the herd. I 

 could see nothing as I gained the crest, so crept 

 on for a yard or two, and stood hidden beside a 

 tree, while peering anxiously to my right in the 

 direction I knew the herd to be. I was expecting 

 to see one or more red beasts ; but suddenly my 

 eyes lighted on the perfectly black hind-quarters 

 of an animal standing motionless, broadside on, 

 about fifty yards to my right, the rest of him 

 being hidden. ' Bison,' I thought, but a second 

 glance showed the white patch on the buttocks. 

 I raised my rifle, and was on the point of putting 

 a 10-bore bullet through his flanks, when there 

 was a loud snort, and as I pressed the trigger 

 the tsaing wheeled round and dashed off, 

 followed by the rest of the herd, which contained 

 two other bulls as black as himself. A snap 

 shot through the smoke at one of them was 

 barren 'of result, and I had lost the only chance 

 I ever had, or am ever likely to have, of bagging 

 a black tsaing. On going back to the crest, 

 I saw the tracker squatting half way up the 

 slope, absolutely in the open, and in a direct line 



