The Pacific commercial advertiser. [volume] (Honolulu, Hawaiian Islands) 1856-1888, 1883-02-24
A Good Hunting Story.

Lieutenant Neville Chamberlain, A. ID. c
Central India Horse, writing from Octaca-
mund on August 18th, sends to the Field a
vivid account of his adventures with a bison
when out shooting in the woods of the
Maharaiah of MysOre. He says - had
no companions, so took with me one of the
local shikaris, named Kampa. and another
man to carry my spare rife. My battery
consisted of a D. B. Shore rifle and a D. B..
12-bore rifle. | took the Shore myself. and
giving Kampa my 12-bore, crawled up to
the herd through the grass. Out of som
high grass just in front of me rose a splendid
old bull. He was only about twenty yards
off, and was just moving behind a clump of
bamboos, when | fired at the point of his
shoulder with the Shore. A great stampede
took place. The smoke hung in the long
grass--which as / knelt was nearly up to
my neck--and | could not see to give him
the second barrel. | ran forward, but could
see nothing so, still running, [ opened the
breech of the rife, threw out the empty
cartridge, and was in the act of pushing a
fresh cartridge home, when, from behind a
small, thick clump of bamboos, some five
yards from me, and about thirty yards from
where I had started, | heard a loud snort.
Kampa gasped out. sKarti!' (bison) and
vanished and at once the bull came charg-
ing down upon at me. l only had time,
as he hurled himself at me, to spring be-
hind a small tree on my left. He whizzed
past like a b~attering-ram, cutting a large
slab of bark out with one of his horns, and,
turning almost in his own length. was
round at me again. This occurred four
or five times, but my attention was so fully
taken up in lodging him that | could not
get the rifle ready for use. To make a long
story short, it ended in my catching my foot
in a creeper. | feel over backwards, and as
/ rose he tossed me. One horn-I suppose
his left one fortunately went clean through
my breeches and flannel shirt, tearing them
to ribbons, and, as far as | can remember, I
seemed to sit on his head; while the other
horn passed under my right arm. He threw
me a long way, and | fell on my back under
some bamboos, the rife dropping out of my
hand from the shock of being tossed. l was
a good deal shaken and out of breath, but
| think my first thought was that now he
would leave me i'll kept still b be ran up
again and stood over my body, laking his
huge head over my chest. | could think of
nothing better to do to protect myself, so sat
up and struck him four or FIVE times with
my fists on one eye, which could just reach
when his head was down. He shc.SSs
head and pushed me back with h;.5nose. |
managed then to plant several severe kicks
on his muzzle with my heavy hobnailed
boots, and he commenced sparring at my
legs with his horns. l did my best to keep
, them out of the way, but got a few bruises
on the shins. This began to get monotonous,
and | knew another toss would not find a
friendly pair of pants. He was still standing
over me when l got in a good volley of hob
nails on his nose, shouted at him, and sat
up to hit him again then to my intense re-
lief, he gave a below, left me, and went
crashing off down the hill. | never saw the
bull again.