and nothing could shake his hold. I had to keep 

 at a respectful distance, for the bull was still good 

 for a furious charge, even with Jock hanging on, 

 and eyed me in the most unpromising fashion when- 

 ever I attempted to head it off or even to come 

 close up. 



The big eyes were blood-shot then, but there was 

 no look of fear in them they blazed with baffled 

 rage. Impossible as it seemed to shake Jock off or 

 to get away from us, and in spite of the broken leg 

 and loss of blood, the furious attempts to beat us off 

 did not slacken. It was a desperate running fight, 

 and right bravely he fought it to the end. 



Partly barring the way in front were the whitened 

 trunks and branches of several trees struck down by 

 some storm of the year before, and running ahead 

 of the koodoo I made for these, hoping to find a stick 

 straight enough for a ramrod to force the empty 

 cartridge out. As I reached them the koodoo made 

 for me with half a dozen plunges that sent me flying 

 off for other cover ; but the broken leg swayed over 

 one of the branches, and Jock with feet planted 

 against the tree hung on ; and the koodoo, turning 

 furiously on him, stumbled, floundered, tripped, 

 and came down with a crash amongst the crackling 

 wood. Once more like a flash Jock was over the fallen 

 body and had fastened on the nose but only to be 

 shaken worse than before. The koodoo literally 

 flogged the ground with him, and for an instant I shut 

 my eyes ; it seemed as if the plucky dog would be 

 beaten into pulp. The bull tried to chop him with 

 189 



