his back, a dead buffalo, although I had not fired after my first shot.
The ball, having entered his chest, was sticking in the skin of his
haunch, having passed through his lungs. His wonderful pluck had kept
him upon his legs until life was extinct.

I am almost tired of recounting so many instances of the courage of
these beasts. When I look back to those scenes, so many ghosts of
victims rise up before me that, were I to relate one-half their
histories, it would fill a volume. The object in describing these
encounters is to show the style of animal that the buffalo is in his
natural state. I could relate a hundred instances where they have died
like curs, and have afforded no more sport than tame cows; but I merely
enumerate those scenes worth relating that I have witnessed. This will
show that the character of a wild buffalo can never be depended upon;
and if the pursuit is followed up as a sport by itself, the nature of
the animal cannot be judged by the individual behaviour of any
particular beast. Some will fight and some will fly, and no one can tell
which will take place; it is at the option of the beast. Caution and
good shooting, combined with heavy rifles, are necessary. Without heavy
metal the sport would be superlatively dangerous if regularly followed
up. Many persons kill a wild buffalo every now and then; but I have
never met with a single sportsman in Ceylon who has devoted himself to
the pursuit as a separate sport. Unless this is done the real character
of buffaloes in general must remain unknown. It may, however, be
considered as a rule with few exceptions that the buffaloes seldom
commence the attack unless pursued. Their instinct at once tells them
whether the man advancing towards them over the plain comes as an enemy.
They may then attack; but if unmolested they will generally retreat,
and, like all men of true courage, they will never seek a quarrel, and
never give in when it is forced upon them. Many descriptions of my