At last we emerged on the bank of the river at Jainti, on the other side of which was the road to Hathipota along which we had come on our return from the ten days' march with the detachment. Our relief at being clear of the forest was great. We splashed through the shallows and set off at a gallop along the road. Suddenly my horse stumbled and fell in a hole, throwing me over its head. I was badly shaken, but I climbed into the saddle as the others, hearing the sound of the fall, pulled up and came back to me. The hole had evidently been dug in the roadway by a wild boar that night; as it had not been there when Tyson and Marriott came by in the morning. We rode on again. When I expressed to Tyson, cantering alongside, my relief at being out of the forest and safe from the chance of a meeting with wild elephants, I was appalled at hearing that the stretch of road we were then on was a regular thoroughfare for these animals on their way from the hills to the jungle. We reached Tyson's bungalow about ten o'clock and found that my men had not arrived; and they did not march in until midnight. The native officer in command had tried a short cut through the forest, following a woodcutter's path which led the party into deep _nullahs_, up precipitous banks, and through the densest jungle. The sepoys were utterly exhausted by their toilsome march. The three elephants had started out with them, carrying the men's blankets and rations, but had fallen far behind. But when Tyson showed the party quarters for the night in one of his sheds, no one waited for food or bedding but flung himself on the floor and fell asleep at once.