A bellow like a volcanic eruption shook the jungle, and with it a fountain of liquid ruby spurted up. Unable to bear the sight any longer, I again shut my eyes. In a few minutes when I came down from my perch, I found that the buffalo had died of a hæmorrhage. It lay in a deep pool of blood. And nearby sat Ghond on the ground, wiping himself from the stain of his encounter. I knew that he wished to be left alone. So I went to the old tree and called to Gay-Neck. He made no response. I went all the way up to the topmost branch of the tree. But in vain--he was not there. When I came down, Ghond had cleansed himself. He pointed at the sky. We beheld nature's scavengers. Kites below, and far above them vultures flew. They had already learnt that someone had died and they must clean up the jungle. Ghond said: "We will find the pigeon in the monastery. He flew with the rest of the birds doubtless. Let us depart hence soon." But before starting homeward, I went to measure the dead buffalo to whom flies had been swarming from every direction. He was ten feet and a half in length; and his forelegs measured over three feet. Our trudge back towards the monastery was made in silence which was only broken when about noonday we had reached the stricken village and informed its headman that their enemy was dead. He was relieved to hear of it, though he was very sad because during the previous evening the buffalo had killed his aged mother, who was going to the village temple to her worship before sunset. We were very hungry and walked fast, and soon we reached the monastery. At once I made inquiries about my pigeon. Gay-Neck was not there! It was terrible. But the old holy man said as we chatted in his cell, "He is safe as are you, Ghond." After a pause of several minutes he asked: "What is troubling your peace of mind?" The old hunter thought out quietly what he was going to say. "Nothing, my Lord, save this. I hate to kill anything. I wanted to catch that bull alive and alas! I had to destroy him. When that horn of his broke, and there was nothing between him and me, I had to put my knife through a vital vein. I am so sorry I could not get him alive in order to sell him to a zoo." "O, you soul of commercialism!" I exclaimed. "I am not sorry that the bull died. Better death than to be caged for the rest of his life in a zoo. Real death is preferable to living death." "If you had only slipped the lassoo over both horns!" Ghond retorted. The holy one ejaculated: "Both of you should be concerned about Gay-Neck, not about what is already dead." Ghond said: "True. Let us search for him on the morrow." But the holy one replied, "No. Return to Dentam, my son. Your family is anxious about you. I hear their thoughts."