A SAD BUNGLE 223

Almost as he made his first jump I fired; then again
and again as he sped with grand leaps over the open
gravel. But he did not fall. The bank leading up to
the timber was ten or twelve feet high and almost straight
up, and when he came to it he made one enormous bound,
just caught his forefeet on the top, but, his hold breaking,
he came sliding down. For a second I did not realize why
he had fallen, and my heart leaped with joy. I thought
he was hit, that he was as good as mine, that I would
soon be handling his splendid body. But my joy was
short-lived. Hardly had he reached the bottom than he
made another tremendous effort, and this time reached
the top. As he disappeared I sent one more bullet after
him, but it was even then only too apparent that he
had gone and gone for good, and that I had made a sad
bungle of a splendid opportunity.

Nevertheless, though in the bottom of my heart I
knew that he was unwounded, I would not acknowledge
this even to myself and went to look for signs of blood.
It was with a sickening feeling of disappointment and
disgust at the mess I had made of it that I did so. Of
course there was not a drop of blood to be seen, but the
search was continued for a long time, and only abandoned
after it had taken me to the far side of the island. There
I found his tracks, which showed that he was making
for the main river at full speed; that he was probably
not only across it by that time but a mile or two farther
on. Words cannot express what my feelings were as I
sorrowfully drifted downstream on my way home!