I dared not turn to retreat, as I knew he would immediately
charge, and we stared each other out of countenance.
With a short grunt he suddenly sprang forward, but fortunately, as I did
not move, he halted; he had, however, decreased his distance, and we now
gazed at each other within ten paces. I began to think buffalo-shooting
somewhat dangerous, and I would have given something to have been a mile
away, but ten times as much to have had my four-ounce rifle in my hand.
Oh, how I longed for that rifle in this moment of suspense! Unloaded,
without the power of defence, with the absolute certainty of a charge
from an overpowering brute, my hand instinctively found the handle of my
hunting-knife, a useless weapon against such a foe.
Knowing that B. was not aware of my situation at the distance which
separated us (about a mile), without taking my eyes from the figure
before me, I raised my hand to my mouth and gave a long and loud
whistle; this was a signal that I knew would be soon answered if heard.
With a stealthy step and another short grunt, the bull again advanced a
couple of paces towards me. He seemed aware of my helplessness, and he
was the picture of rage and fury, pawing the water and stamping
violently with his forefeet.
This was very pleasant!
