Here Ghond changed his tactics. He ran away in the opposite direction, zig-zagging in between different trees. This he did to go where his odour could not reach the bull blown down to him by the wind. But though he was bewildered, yet the bull turned and followed. He again saw the bundle of Ghond's clothes on the ground under our tree. That maddened him. He sniffed, and then worried it with his horns.
By now Ghond was down wind. Though I could not see him, I surmised that he could tell by the odour where the bull was in case the trees hid him from view. The beast bellowed again, as he put his horns through Ghond's clothes, which raised a terrific tumult in the trees all around. From nowhere came flocks of monkeys running from branch to branch. Squirrels ran like rats from trees to the jungle-floor, then back again. Swarms of birds, such as jays, herons and parrots were flying about and shrieking in unison with crows, owls and kites. Suddenly the bull charged again. I saw that Ghond was standing there calmly facing him. If ever I saw a man calm as calmness itself, it was Ghond. The bull's hind legs throbbed and swept on like swords. Then something happened. He reared in the air; no doubt it was the pull of the lassoo rope of which one end was tied to our tree. He rose several feet above the ground, then fell. That instant, like a dry twig, snapped by a child, his horn cracked and flew up in the air. The breaking created an irresistible momentum that flung him sideways on the ground. He almost rolled over, his legs kicking the air violently. Instantly Ghond leaped forward like a spark from the flint. Seeing him, the buffalo balanced himself and sat on his haunches snorting. He almost succeeded in rising to his feet, but Ghond struck near his shoulder with the dagger. Its deadly edge dug deep and Ghond pressed on it with his entire weight. A bellow like a volcanic eruption shook the jungle, and with it a fountain of liquid ruby spurted up. Unable to bear the sight any longer, I again shut my eyes.
In a few minutes when I came down from my perch, I found that the buffalo had died of a hæmorrhage. It lay in a deep pool of blood. And nearby sat Ghond on the ground, wiping himself from the stain of his encounter. I knew that he wished to be left alone. So I went to the old tree and called to Gay-Neck. He made no response. I went all the way up to the topmost branch of the tree. But in vain—he was not there.
When I came down, Ghond had cleansed himself. He pointed at the sky. We beheld nature's scavengers. Kites below, and far above them vultures flew. They had already learnt that someone had died and they must clean up the jungle.
Ghond said: "We will find the pigeon in the monastery. He flew with the rest of the birds doubtless. Let us depart hence soon." But before starting homeward, I went to measure the dead buffalo to whom flies had been swarming from every direction. He was ten feet and a half in length; and his forelegs measured over three feet.
Our trudge back towards the monastery was made in silence which was only broken when about noonday we had reached the stricken village and informed its headman that their enemy was dead. He was relieved to hear of it, though he was very sad because during the previous evening the buffalo had killed his aged mother, who was going to the village temple to her worship before sunset.
We were very hungry and walked fast, and soon we reached the monastery. At once I made inquiries about my pigeon. Gay-Neck was not there! It was terrible. But the old holy man said as we chatted in his cell, "He is safe as are you, Ghond." After a pause of several minutes he asked: "What is troubling your peace of mind?"
The old hunter thought out quietly what he was going to say. "Nothing, my Lord, save this. I hate to kill anything. I wanted to catch that bull alive and alas! I had to destroy him. When that horn of his broke, and there was nothing between him and me, I had to put my knife through a vital vein. I am so sorry I could not get him alive in order to sell him to a zoo."
"O, you soul of commercialism!" I exclaimed. "I am not sorry that the bull died. Better death than to be caged for the rest of his life in a zoo. Real death is preferable to living death."
"If you had only slipped the lassoo over both horns!" Ghond retorted.