MY BETE NOIRE 
103 
stump or log of wood, he certainly would have investigated more 
nearly what stuff I was made of. I was not much alarmed, how¬ 
ever ; for I felt that there was every chance of dodging him 
with his broken leg if he pressed me hard. After about five 
minutes of this by-play, the buffalo, apparently sickening from 
his wounds, went off towards the rear some thirty yards, when, 
hastily grabbing up some cartridges, I faced him in a sitting 
position as he turned to take in this new phase of affairs. It 
was not for long though; for as he gazed, a bullet from my long 
Swinburne-Henry, just between the horns, brought him to his 
knees before he rolled over on his side with the characteristic 
harsh groan these animals send out when giving up the ghost. 
To show the inefficiency of the Martini-Henry bullet for killing 
big game at short ranges, let me relate that after we had cut up 
this bull and the cow previously shot, and sent the meat home 
by the boys who followed us up from the camp on hearing the 
shooting, we found the first bull, with three shots through the 
lungs, still alive, though very weak, about a mile off. He was 
lying down, but as we approached him staggered to his knees 
to defend himself; however, he got no further, as I rushed up 
and shot him sideways in the brain, thus bagging three buffalo 
in one morning. 
While cutting up the meat, my ‘ bete noire,’ one of the huge 
Batokas, started a fiendish row; brandishing his knife and push¬ 
ing every one aside who came in his way at the carcase, he 
started to cut off all the choice pieces. When reproved for this, 
he insolently started to whittle at a piece specially put aside for 
the white men’s mess. I told him to leave this alone; and in an 
absolute frenzy, covered with buffalo gore, he rushed at the car¬ 
case again, knocking the other boys away like toys, defying me 
and all of us, and backed up by the cynical smiles of his three 
mates. I felt that unless something was done, my prestige 
amongst the boys would be lost, so I went up to him and 
shoved him away, when he raised both hands and spat at me 
in frenzied contempt. This was going altogether beyond 
bounds, so I felt obliged to strike him with my fist, and knocked 
