The sun is resting on the hill-tops, and will soon disappear behind them; the peafowl and jungle-cock are noisily challenging amongst themselves, and the latest party of woodcutters have just passed by, showing, by their brisk pace and loud talking, that they consider it high time for prudent men to quit the jungle.
To the deeply-rooted stump of a young tree on the opposite bank, one of the white cows has been made fast by a double cord passed twice round her horns. Nothing remains to be done; the little door is fastened behind me, the prickly acacia boughs are piled up against it on the outside, and my people are anxious to be off. The old Shikaree makes his appearance in the nullah, and wishing me success through the window, asks if "all is right?" "Every thing; get home as fast as you can: if you should hear three shots in succession before dark, come back for me,--otherwise, bring the pony at six to-morrow morning,--and a cup of hot coffee, tell the cook."
They are gone; I still hear them every now and then, as they shout to one another, and as the pony is scrambling through some loose stones in the bed of a [missing words/letters] through which the road lies.
The poor cow, too, listens with dismay to the retreating footsteps of the party, and has already made some furious plunges to free herself and rejoin the rest of the kine, who have been driven off, nothing loth, towards home. Watch her: how intently she stares along the path by which the people have deserted her. Were it not for the occasional stamp of her fore leg, or the impatient side-toss of the head, to keep off the swarming flies, she might be carved out of marble. And now a fearful and anxious gaze up the bed of the nullah, and into the thick fringe of Mimoso, one ear pricked and the other back alternately, show that _instinct_ has already whispered the warning of impending danger. Another plunge to get loose, and a searching gaze up the path; see her sides heave. Now comes what we want--that deep low! it echoes again among the hills: another, and another. Poor wretch! you are hastening your doom; far or near the tiger hears you--under rock or thicket, where he has lain since morning sheltered from the scorching sun, his ears flutter as if they were tickled every time he hears that music: his huge green eyes, heretofore half-closed, are now wide open, and, alas! poor cow, gaze truly enough in thy direction; but he has not stirred yet, and nobody can say in which direction giant death will yet stalk forth.