could, but was not able to make myself heard above the row. An instant
later the beast came to its feet with a savage growl and charged the
nearest of the men. She was crippled, and could not move as quickly as
usual, but could hobble along faster than her intended victim could run.
This was a tall and very conceited Kavirondo. He fled, but ran around in
circles in and out of his excited companions. The cheetah followed him,
and him only, with most single-minded purpose.

I dared not shoot while men were in the line of fire even on the other
side of the cheetah, for I knew the high-power bullet would at that
range go right on through, and I fairly split my throat trying to clear
the way. It seemed five minutes, though it was probably only as many
seconds, before I got my chance. It was high time. The cheetah had
reared to strike the man down.[23] My shot bowled her over. She jumped
to her feet again, made another dash at the thoroughly scared Kavirondo,
and I killed her just at his coat-tails.

The cheetahs ordinarily are supposed to be cowards, although their size
and power are equal to that of other leopards. Nobody is afraid of them.
Yet this particular animal charged with all the ferocity and
determination of the lion, and would certainly have killed or badly
mauled my man.[24] To be sure it had been wounded, and had had all night
to think about it.

In the relief from the tension we all burst into shrieks of laughter;
all except the near-victim of the scrimmage, who managed only a sickly
smile. Our mirth was short. Out from a thicket over a hundred yards away
walked one of the men, who had been in no way involved in the fight,
calmly announcing that he had been shot. We were sceptical, but he
turned his back and showed us the bullet hole at the lower edge of the