of one of the cows, and a short warning grunt gave notice to the herd that something unusual was approaching. Instantly every head was turned in our direction. Kartik was much too good a shikaree to move. He was flat on his stomach. Any sudden movement on my part would have sent the herd off helter-skelter. Inch by inch I rose to my feet, the whole herd gazing intently at this novel object. Inch by inch, and my Paradox is raised to my shoulder. With an impatient stamp the bull comes a yard or two nearer to view this strange intruder. Ah! the excitement, the intense pleasure of that moment, to know that one clutch of the fingers, and that great brute would be at my feet. Black as jet, with brown to the knees, and a patch of brown on the forehead, he looked superb as, pawing the dust, he gazed in my direction with lowered head ready for the attack. What chance had the heaviest weapon against that massive frontal bone? No, I must not move. I must wait till a vulnerable point offers. Will he never move? At last he raises his head, and sniffs the air, as if to scent out the danger. Fatal movement! He exposes his chest, and a single bullet lays him low, while the remainder of the herd scamper off helter-skelter. I stood with gun at shoulder, ready for a second shot, should he rise and charge, or attempt to make off. The well-trained Kartik was still prone on his stomach, as he knew that, if he moved and attracted the bull's attention, and it had still life enough left to charge, he would be the objective.
