h the
thick underwood. I saw that it would be bad generalship to leave so
formidable an enemy in our rear, so I felt that it would be my duty to
follow him. This I did as fast as I could, but he waddled along at a
quickish pace, breaking the stout boughs with wonderful ease as he
forced his way through them. I managed, however, to keep his shaggy
back in sight, and again got pretty close up to him, following at his
tail with the intention of shooting him between the shoulders, as soon
as an open space in the brushwood would allow me to do so. It was a
hazardous experiment, but the seeming cowardice of the crocodile had
made me feel somewhat of contempt for the bear. I was on the point of
lifting my rifle, when with a fierce roar he rapidly turned round and
literally leaped on the muzzle. I remembered my narrow escape from the
rogue elephant, and scarcely expected to be so fortunate again. I fired
first one barrel, then the other in rapid succession, directly in his
breast, as he threw his whole weight against my rifle, and completely
forced me back. All I remember was a crackling of bushes, a terrific
roar, a confused cloud of smoke, and a dark mass above me. I lay
stunned, I believe, for some time, and then I heard a bark, and some one
exclaim,--"Poor fellow; O dear, O dear, he is killed."

"No, I'm not quite," cried I from under the bear. Then there was a
pulling and hauling, in which Solon lent his jaws, and paws, if not his
hands, and the huge bear was partly pulled off me stone dead, and I was
partly pulled out from beneath the bear, both my friend and I fully
expecting to find all my bones broken, and my rifle doubled up. My
astonishment was as great as my satisfaction and thankfulness, when I
discovered that when I tried to get up I could do so, and that when I
shook myself none of my bones rattled; indeed, except a bruise or two,
there was very little the matter with me, while my rifle was in the same
perfect condition. I had, too, single-handed killed the bear, a thing,
Nowell said, to be somewhat proud of in the sporting way. I did not
allude to the horrid fright I had been in, and certainly hoped that I
might never have such another encounter.

The Ceylon bear, indeed, is a very savage animal, and will, I heard,
frequently attack people without the slightest provocation. Dango cut
out the bears' tongues and put them in his game-bag; while I, having
swallowed a few drops of brandy and water, fel