I had him buried by the side of old Smut, and there are no truer dogs on the earth than the two that there lie together.
A very few weeks after Bluebeard's death, however, I got a taste of revenge out of one of the race.
Palliser and I were out shooting, and we found a single bull elephant asleep in the dry bed of a stream; we were stealing quietly up to him, when his guardian spirit whispered something in his ear, and up he jumped.

However, we polished him off, and having reloaded, we passed on.
The country consisted of low, thorny jungle and small sandy plains of short turf, and we were just entering one of these open spots within a quarter of a mile of the dead elephant, when we observed a splendid leopard crouching at the far end of the glade.

He was about ninety paces from us, lying broadside on, with his head turned to the opposite direction, evidently looking out for game.

His crest was bristled up with excitement, and he formed a perfect picture of beauty both in color and attitude.
Halting our gun-bearers, we stalked him within sixty yards; he looked quickly round, and his large hazel eyes shone full upon us, as the two rifles made one report, and his white belly lay stretched upon the ground.
They were both clean shots: Palliser had aimed at his head, and had cut off one ear and laid the skin open at the back of the neck.

My ball had smashed both shoulders, but life was not fairly extinct.