Were It
Not For The Two Heavy Rifles Our Career Might Have Terminated In An
Unpleasant Manner.
As I before mentioned, this part of the country was
seldom or never disturbed at the time of which I write, and the
buffaloes were immensely numerous and particularly savage, nearly always
turning to bay and showing good sport when attacked.
Having cut out the tongues from the two bulls, we turned homeward to
breakfast. Skirting along the edge of the lake, which abounded with
small creeks, occasioning us many circuits, we came suddenly upon a
single bull, who, springing from his lair of mud and high grass, plunged
into a creek, and, swimming across, exposed himself to a dead shot as he
landed on the opposite bank about a hundred paces from us. The
four-ounce struck him in the hind-quarters and broke the hip joint, and,
continuing its course along his body, it pierced his lungs and lodged in
the skin of the throat. The bull immediately fell, but regaining his
feet he took to the water, and swam to a small island of high grass
about thirty yards from the shore. Upon gaining this he turned and faced
us, but in a few seconds he fell unable to rise, and received a merciful
shot in the head, which despatched him.
We were just leaving the border of the lake on our way to the village,
when two cow buffaloes sprang up from one of the numerous inlets and
retreated at full gallop towards the jungle, offering a splendid side
shot at about a hundred paces.
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