SPORT IN MOZAMBIQUE 



to gore, but only succeeds in rubbing my back 

 with her forehead, the form of her forehead preventing 

 her from reaching the ground. She kneels down 

 and recommences, without any better success. I 

 am covered with her blood. Then she raises herself, 

 and marching over my right hand, which she scarifies, 

 and bruising my right thigh, passes over me and 

 remains motionless. I gently stretch out my hand 

 to reach my rifle and reload it. I intend to turn 

 myself suddenly on my back, without raising myself, 

 to fire point-blank. At the moment I am about to 

 execute this manoeuvre she passes back on my left, 

 gives a kick with her foot to my rifle, and crushes my 

 hat. She makes a short pause, and then starts off at 

 a fast trot, with head elevated and fierce mien. I 

 spring to my feet and cry to the negro, " Fire, fire." 

 I seize my rifle and reload, but by the time I get it 

 to my shoulder the beast has re-entered the thicket. 

 My man arrives, showing me his carbine, of which the 

 extractor will not discharge the empty cartridge. 

 Perhaps it is as well, as he is quite capable of hitting 

 me in place of killing the buffalo. After a visit to the 

 carcase of the first beast, I return home, and on the 

 morrow, armed with my certus-rifle, again take up 

 the track of the two wounded animals, which I never 

 overtake in spite of a forced march. 



Formerly as abundant as the gnus, the buffaloes 

 were decimated by the epidemic of rinderpest in 1895. 

 There remain only small herds, which live indifferently 



(76) 



