648 'WILD SCENES AND WILD HUNTEES. 



the slain elephants ; but walking was exceedingly toilsome, 

 and our feet sinking to the ankles in black mud, were extri- 

 cated with inconceivable difficulty. Taking advantage of oui 

 situation, an irritated rhinoceros sallied from behind an old 

 stone wall ; and the damp causing three of the balls to miss 

 fire, he was actually amongst us, when my ball fortunately 

 pierced his eye, and he fell dead at our feet. 



Not an elephant was to be seen on the ground that was 

 yesterday teeming with them ; but on reaching the glen, 

 which had been the scene of our exploits during the early 

 part of the action, a calf about three feet and a half high, 

 walked forth from a bush, and saluted us with mournful 

 piping notes. We had observed the unhappy little wretch 

 hovering about its mother after she fell, and having probably 

 been unable to overtake the herd, it had passed a dreary 

 night in the wood. Entwining its little proboscis about our 

 legs, the sagacious creature, after demonstrating its delight 

 at our arrival by a thousand ungainly antics, accompanied 

 the party to the body of its dam, which, swollen to an enor- 

 mous size, was surrounded by an inquest of vultures. Seated 

 in gaunt array, with their shoulders shrugged, these loathe- 

 some fowls were waiting its decomposition with forced 

 resignation ; the tough hide having defied all the efi"orts of 

 their beaks, with which the eyes and softer parts had been 

 vigorously assailed. The conduct of the quaint little calf 

 now became quite aifecting, and elicited the sympathy of 

 every one. It ran round its mother's corpse with touching 

 demonstrations of grief, piping sorrowfully, and vainly 

 attempted to raise her with its tiny trunk. I confess that 

 I had felt compunctions in committing the murder the day 

 before, and now half resolved never to assist in another; 

 for in addition to the moving behavior of the young elephant, 

 I had been unable to divest myself of the idea that I was 

 firing at my old favorite, Mowla-Bukhsh, from whose gallant 



