he hills and into sight of the sky once more. The
mountains stood out clear and distinct in the slanting rays of the
setting sun. Suddenly a loud though distant, almost musical bellow
sounded, seeming to come from a bamboo jungle about a mile away.

"That's a cow-bison calling," said Dermot in a low voice. "There's a
herd somewhere about; but the '_pugs_' we're following up are those of a
solitary bull. We're in free forest now; so with luck you may get your
first bison. It's very steep here; we'll dismount, leave the elephants
and go on foot."

The subaltern was wildly excited, and his heart thumped at a rate that
was not caused by the steep slope up which he followed Dermot. The
Colonel tracked the bull unhesitatingly, although to Wargrave there was
no mark to be seen on the ground.

They were creeping cautiously through bamboo cover on a hill when
Dermot, who was leading, suddenly threw himself on his face, lay still
for a minute or two, then, motioning to his companion to halt, crawled
forward like a snake. A few paces on he stopped and beckoned to
Wargrave, and, when the latter reached him, pointed down into the gully
below. They were almost on the edge of a descent precipitous enough to
be called a cliff. Immediately underneath by a small stream was a
massive black bull-bison, eighteen hands--six feet--high, with short,
square, head, broad ears and horizontal rounded horns. The only touches
of colour were on the forehead and the legs below the knees, which were
whitish. The animal, with head thrown back, was staring vacantly with
its large, slatey-blue eyes.

Wargrave trembled with excitement and his heart beat so violently that
the rifle shook as he brought it to his shoulder and gently pushed the
muzzle through the stiff, dry grass at the edge of the cliff. But for
the one necessary instant he became rigidly steady and without a tremor
pressed the trigger. Then the rifle barrels danced again before his
eyes, when he saw the great bull collapse on the ground, its fore-legs
twitching violently, the hind ones motionless.

"Good shot. You've broken his spine," exclaimed Dermot, springing to his
feet and sliding, scrambling, jumping down the steep descent. The
excited subaltern outstripped him; but before he reached the bull it
lay motionless, dead.

"You're a lucky young man, Wargrave. A splendid bison on your first day
in the jungle. Those horns are six feet from tip to tip I bet," and the
Political Officer