with, his nose into his chest and the magnificent horns 

 arched forward and poised so as to strike either right 

 or left, and if Jock feinted a rush either way the 

 scythe-sweep came with lightning quickness, covering 

 more than half a circle and carrying the gleaming points 

 with a swing right over the sable's own back. Then 

 he would advance slowly and menacingly, with horns 

 well forward ready to strike and eyes blazing through 

 his eyebrows, driving Jock before him. 



There were three or four of these encounters in 

 which I could take no hand : the distance, the inter- 

 vening thorns and grass, and the quickness of their 

 movements, made a safe shot impossible ; and there was 

 always the risk of hitting Jock, for a hard run does 

 not make for good shooting. Each time as the sable 

 drove him back there would be a short vicious rush 

 suddenly following the first deliberate advance, and 

 as Jock scrambled back out of the way the bull would 

 swing round with incredible quickness and be off 

 full gallop in another direction. Evidently the final 

 rush was a manoeuvre to get Jock clear of his heels 

 and flanks as he started, and thus secure a lead for the 

 next run. 



Since the day he was kicked by the koodoo cow 

 Jock had never tackled an unbroken hind-leg ; a 

 dangling one he never missed ; but the lesson of the 

 flying heels had been too severe to be forgotten, and 

 he never made that mistake again. In this chase I 

 saw him time after time try at the sable's flanks and 

 run up abreast of his shoulder and make flying leaps 

 at the throat ; but he never got in front where the 



438 



