Ye gods! I had been firing SNIPE SHOT at him.

It was my rascally horse-keeper, who had actually handed me the shot-gun, which I had received as the double-barrelled ball-gun that I knew was carried by a gun-bearer.

How I did thrash him! If the elephant had charged instead of making off I should have been caught to a certainty.
This day's shooting was the last day of good sport that I ever had at Minneria.

It was in June, 1847.

The next morning I moved my encampment and started homewards.