ough matted chumps of grass, dripping with wet, and
utterly tired and dejected, we reached the bank of the stream.

Here we had no difficulty in following the path. The river is so
swift, that the only way boats are enabled to get up stream to take
down the inland produce, is by having a few coolies or boatmen to drag
the boat up against the current by towing-lines. This is called
_gooning_. The goon-ropes are attached to the mast of the boat. At the
free end is a round bit of bamboo. The towing-coolie places this
against his shoulder, and slowly and laboriously drags the boat up
against the current. We were now on this towing-path, and after riding
for nearly four miles we reached the ghat, struck into the cart-road,
and without further misadventure reached the factory about four in the
morning, utterly fagged and worn out.

About eight in the morning my bearer woke me out of a deep sleep, with
the news that there was a _gaerha_, that is, a rhinoceros, close to
the factory. We had some days previously heard it rumoured that there
were _two_ rhinoceroses in the _Battabarree_ jungles, so I at once
roused my soundly-sleeping friends. Swallowing a hasty morsel of toast
and a cup of coffee, we mounted our ponies, sent our guns on ahead,
and rode off for the village where the rhinoceros was reported. As we
rode hurriedly along we could see natives running in the same
direction as ourselves, and one of my men came up panting and
breathless to confirm the news about the rhinoceros, with the
unwelcome addition that Premnarain Singh, a young neighbouring
Zemindar, had gone in pursuit of it with his elephant and guns. We
hurried on, and just then heard the distant report of a shot, followed
quickly by two more. We tried to take a short cut across country
through some rice-fields, but our ponies sank in the boggy ground, and
we had to retrace our way to the path.

By the time we got to the village we found an excited crowd of over a
thousand natives, dancing and gesticulating round the prostrate
carcase of the rhinoceros. The Baboo and his party had found the poor
brute firmly imbedded in a quicksand. With organised effort they might
have secured the prize alive, and could have sold him in Calcutta for
at least a thousand rupees, but they were too excited, and blazed away
three shots into the helpless beast. 'Many hands make light work,' so
the crowd soon had the dead animal extricated, rolled him into the
creek, and floated hi