252 



SULTAN MAMBA KILLED. 



he rises liigli, lie falls with a crash upon the wave, 

 and all that hulking flesh cannot keep in a little 

 life. Sultan Mamha has for ever disappeared 

 from the home of the hippopotamus : never shall 

 he hully canoe-men, never shall he hreak nigger's 

 leg again. 



We soon learned the lesson that these cold- 

 blooded beasts may be killed with a pistol ball, 

 if hit in the right place, — under the shoulder for 

 the heart, and. in the ear for the remarkably small 

 brain, whose pan is strongly boxed in. Other- 

 wise they carry as much lead as elephants. By 

 10 A.M. we had slain six, besides wounding I know 

 not how many of the animals. They might be 

 netted, but the operation would not pay in a 

 pecuniary sense : the ivory of small teeth, under 

 4 lbs. each, is worth little. Moreover, the herds are 

 apt to shift quarters after an excess of bullying, 

 and are normally shy when exposed to the per- 

 petual popgunning of the Baloch. Even the 

 vulture is absent — a bad sign. We did not often 

 return to this sport, finding the massacre mono- 

 tonous, and such cynegetics little more exciting 

 than pheasant shooting. 



Our first partie concluded with a bath in the 

 Panga-ni, which here has natural 'bowers for 

 dancing and disport,' fit for Diana and her suite: 



