80 A BULL IN A FURY. 



about sixty yards from me, as I lay concealed behind 

 an ant-hill. Rigby was soon at him, and brought him 

 on his knees the first shot, but recovering himself, he 

 charged deliberately at the smoke, and buried his 

 horns deep in the hard clay of the ant-hill. I was 

 stooping behind it, with the remaining barrel ready 

 for his head the moment it should appear. Having 

 waited a second or two, I looked round the side, and 

 saw my friend some fifty yards off, throwing up earth 

 with his horns. He was in a perfect fury. I looked 

 round for Moloka, but he was nowhere to be seen — 

 indeed, I had not noticed him since I shot the first 

 buffalo. I now reloaded the rifle, and, not perceiving 

 any better cover than my buffalo-proof ant-hill, which 

 stood about eight feet high, and was nine feet in dia- 

 meter at the base, determined that as long as the bull 

 remained within range, or could be induced to charge, 

 I would not quit it ; so placing a spare cartridge be- 

 tween my teeth, I let drive at his shoulder, and again 

 brought hhn to his knees. This time he did not 

 charge, but recovering himself, walked round and 

 round in a circle, and then stood still, his back crip- 

 pled, and his head lowered. Having reloaded, I 

 walked towards him, but though he must have seen 

 me, he took no notice. I now saw it was all up with 

 him. He was bleeding from the mouth and nose, 

 and his flanks heaved with the last efforts to breathe. 

 I stood within ten yards of him, about to put him 

 out of pain by a cowp de grace^ when he rolled over 

 on his side — the fourth buffalo I had killed out of 

 the herd, two of them being bulls. I was com- 

 pletely run out and choked with thirst, and I knew I 



