head till he does so to strike); those great black horns--as I look at
them before me, gentlemen, I seem to see them come charging at me as I
did ten years ago, silhouetted against the green bush behind;--on, on!"

"With a shout Mashune bolted off sideways towards the bush. I had
instinctively lifted my eight-bore, which I had in my hand. It would
have been useless to fire at the buffalo's head, for the dense horns
must have turned the bullet; but as Mashune bolted, the bull slewed a
little, with the momentary idea of following him, and as this gave me
a ghost of a chance, I let drive my only cartridge at his shoulder. The
bullet struck the shoulder-blade and smashed it up, and then travelled
on under the skin into his flank; but it did not stop him, though for a
second he staggered.

"Throwing myself on to the ground with the energy of despair, I rolled
under the shelter of the projecting root of the thorn, crushing myself
as far into the mouth of the ant-bear hole as I could. In a single
instant the buffalo was after me. Kneeling down on his uninjured
knee--for one leg, that of which I had broken the shoulder, was swinging
helplessly to and fro--he set to work to try and hook me out of the hole
with his crooked horn. At first he struck at me furiously, and it was
one of the blows against the base of the tree which splintered the tip
of the horn in the way that you see. Then he grew more cunning,
and pushed his head as far under the root as possible, made long
semicircular sweeps at me, grunting furiously, and blowing saliva and
hot steamy breath all over me. I was just out of reach of the horn,
though every stroke, by widening the hole and making more room for his
head, brought it closer to me, but every now and again I received heavy
blows in the ribs from his muzzle. Feeling that I was being knocked
silly, I made an effort and seizing his rough tongue, which was hanging