We Had
Determined To Set Fire To The Grass, As, Although Upon Poorer
Soil It Had Almost Disappeared Through The Withering Of The
Roots, Upon Fertile Ground It Was Almost Nine Feet High, And Not
Only Concealed The Game, But Prevented Us From Riding.
We
accordingly rode towards a spot where bright yellow herbage
invited the fire-stick; but hardly had we arrived, when we
noticed a solitary bull buffalo (Bos Caffer), feeding within
about a hundred and fifty yards.
I immediately dismounted, and,
creeping towards him to within fifty paces, I shot him through
the neck with one of my Reilly No. 10 rifles. I had hoped to drop
him dead by the shot, instead of which he galloped off, of course
followed by the aggageers, with the exception of one, who held my
horse. Quickly mounted, we joined in the hunt, and in about three
minutes we ran the buffalo to bay in a thicket of thorns on the
margin of the river. These thorns were just thick enough to
conceal him at times, but to afford us a glance of his figure as
he moved from his position. There was a glade which cut through
and divided the jungle, and I wished the aggageers to drive him,
if possible, across this, when I should have a good opportunity
of shooting. To my astonishment, one of the most daring hunters
jumped off his horse with his drawn sword, and, telling me to
look out, he coolly entered the jungle alone to court the attack
of the buffalo. I would not allow him to risk his life for an
animal that I had been the first to wound, therefore I insisted
upon his return, and begging Abou Do to hold my bridle when I
should fire, I rode with him carefully along the skirts of the
jungle along the glade, keeping a good look-out among the thorns
for the buffalo. Presently I heard a short grunt within twenty
yards of us, and I quickly perceived the buffalo standing
broadside on, with his head to the wind, that brought down the
scent of the people on the other side.
I had my little Fletcher No. 24 in my hand--that handy little
weapon that almost formed an extra bone of myself, and,
whispering to Abou Do to hold my bridle close to the bit, as
Aggahr was not very steady under fire, I took a clean shot direct
at the centre of the shoulder. The ball smacked as though it had
struck an iron target. Aggahr gave a start, and for the moment
both Abou Do and myself were prepared for a rush; but the buffalo
had never flinched, and he remained standing as though
immoveable. Abon Do whispered, "You missed him, I heard the
bullet strike the tree;" I shook my head, and quickly
re-loaded--it was impossible to miss at that distance, and I knew
that I had fired steadily. Hardly had I rammed the bullet down,
when, with a sudden thump, down fell the buffalo upon his side,
and, rolling over upon his back, he gave a few tremendous
struggles, and lay dead.
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