So massive and low were the bosses of his horns
that the brain shot was impossible. Therefore I aimed low in the
shoulder. The shock of the bullet actually knocked that great
beast off his feet! My respect for the hitting power of the 405
went up several notches. The only trouble was that he rebounded
like a rubber ball. Without an instant's hesitation I gave him
another in the same place. This brought him to his knees for an
instant; but he was immediately afoot again. Billy had, with
great good sense and courage, continued to lie absolutely flat
within a few yards of the beast, Mavrouki and I had kept low, and
C. and the men were out of sight. The buffalo therefore had seen
none of his antagonists. He charged at a guess, and guessed
wrong. As he went by I fired at his head, and, as we found out
afterward, broke his jaw. A moment later C.'s great elephant gun
roared from somewhere behind me as he fired by a glimpse through
the brush at the charging animal. It was an excellent snapshot,
and landed back of the ribs.
When the buffalo broke through the screen of brush I dashed after
him, for I thought our only chance of avoiding danger lay in
keeping close track of where that buffalo went. On the other side
the bushes I found a little grassy opening, and then a small but
dense thicket into which the animal had plunged. To my left, C.
was running up, followed closely by Billy, who, with her usual
good sense, had figured out the safest place to be immediately
back of the guns. We came together at the thicket's edge.
The animal's movements could be plainly followed by the sound of
his crashing. We heard him dash away some distance, pause, circle
a bit to the right, and then come rushing back in our direction.
Stooping low we peered into the darkness of the thicket. Suddenly
we saw him, not a dozen yards away. He was still afoot, but very
slow. I dropped the magazine of five shots into him as fast as I
could work the lever. We later found all the bullet-holes in a
spot as big as the palm of your hand. These successive heavy
blows delivered all in the same place were too much for even his
tremendous vitality; and slowly he sank on his side.
XXVI. JUJA
Most people have heard of Juja, the modern dwelling in the heart
of an African wilderness, belonging to our own countryman,
Mr. W. N. McMillan. If most people are as I was before I saw the place,
they have considerable curiosity and no knowledge of what it is
and how it looks.
