One day I found a fine bull grazing on the margin of a piece of detached jungle some five or six acres in extent; I got between him and the main forest, to which he would of course fly, fired at him, and he went at once into the ravine, or rather jungle-clad hollow, in front of him.  I then ran to the only pass from it into the main forest, and told the two people who were with me to follow on the track of the bull, at which I should thus have been able to get another shot in the event of his having strength enough to leave the five or six acres of jungle he had entered.  I waited for a considerable time, and at last went up the hill with the view of seeing what my people were about, and called out, to be answered by one man on the top of a hill on the other side, and by another from the top of a tree, who said that the bison had attacked them, and that one of them had run out of the jungle and the other up a tree.  I called out to the man on the grass land to go and fetch a dog and some people from the village, and again returned to my pass, for had the bull once got down into the main forest-which led to the foot of the Ghauts, we should probably have lost him.  After rather a long interval some natives appeared with a dog, and I told them to drive the ravine, and soon there ensued a series of charges, accompanied by the barking of the dog, and a general state of confusion, from, which it was evident that the bison had lots of go in him.  Still I clung to the pass.  At last my patience was worn out, and I went to look up the bull in the jungle.  Horror of horrors! he made off in the very direction of the pass into the main forest, and had it not been for the dog we should probably have lost him, but I at once set on the dog, and this had the desired effect of making the bull turn, when he came towards us, looking for some one to charge.  When he was a few yards from me I gave him a shot which turned him aside, and as he deflected he presented a good shot, and was soon killed.

The jumping, or rather bounding power of the bison is wonderful, and I was accidentally caused to ascertain it in this way.  One evening, just at sundown, I found a bull in a very unexpected place, high up on a mountain, with very precipitous sides.  He was on the edge of a piece of jungly, swampy land, about half an acre in extent, and when I fired at him he went into this, and I sent my second gun man round to drive him out.  He soon appeared, took one look at me at a distance of about fifty yards, and then charged with wonderful suddenness.  I was young and active then, and ran sideways to the only tree—­a small one on the open land—­but I had just time to save myself, for the bull, having struck or grazed the tree with his shoulder, fell at my feet, and as he rose, his horn caught my coat about the armpit and tore a hole in it.  He galloped towards me with his nose up, but lowered his head as he approached me, evidently to clear me away.  He, of course, was up again in a second, and disappeared