MR. FOWL ON AND OFF. 353 



shot, but with no better success. Again he was hunted, 

 and in his excitement and fear made straight for the 

 encampment. At one moment I thought the brute had 

 him, but a quick turn saved his bacon. At this moment 

 all the dogs came up, and the rhinoceros's attention 

 became fully occupied with the noisy pack. To my 

 annoyance the infuriated beast a second time directed its 

 steps towards us, so to avoid it running amuck through 

 my property, which it doubtlessly would have done, I 

 took my four-bore, loaded with ten drams of powder, 

 availed myself of the shelter of some thick mapaney 

 brush and an ant-hill, and took aim. 



I pressed the trigger, and, my goodness ! I received 

 a blow on the shoulder that completely floored me, the 

 gun at the same time springing out of my hand, and 

 tearing a couple of inches of skin off the inside of my 

 finger. As for the game, it never knew how it had been 

 converted into meat. After this exploit I kept that 

 gun for the use of friends and refractory servants who 

 were fond of sport, and it certainly afforded this in more 

 ways than one. 



Next morning I bought a beautiful little bullock for 

 an old musket. The Bechuana and Massara constantly 

 use oxen for riding, so I thought I would convert him 

 into a charger. But with the caution characteristic of 

 my countrymen, I preferred seeing another on his back 

 to making the first attempt myself. It was Fowl's work 

 to handle the cattle, so I told him to mount ; he did so, 

 but the moment the bullock was let loose off it went 

 over the velt, bucking most furiously, and pitched Mr. 

 Driver a most beautiful somersault. I now ordered the 

 foreloper to get on. Nothing loth, he did so, and made 

 a good effort to keep his seat, but ultimately failed, and 

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