The second shot had hit him between the eyes, but had glanced off the skull, merely ripping open the skin on the forehead for five inches.

The third shell had killed him, except for the convulsive heaving that was finally stilled by the small bullet in the base of the brain.
[Drawing: _As I Planned to Look in the Photograph of "My First Lion"_] The skinning was interesting.

All the fat in certain parts of the body was saved, for East Indians bid high for it and use it as a lubricant for rheumatic pains.

The two shoulder blades are always saved and are considered a valuable trophy.

They are little bones three inches long, unattached and floating, and have long since ceased to perform any function in the working of the body.