weather, so there was no remedy for that. He began to feel something
else--to wit that he had been a fool to come, and somehow all the
excitement and anticipation began to evaporate, and the process of
evaporation seemed to progress with quite extraordinary rapidity. And
then--and then--just as he had fully made up his mind to retrace his
steps--if he could--a sudden clink and rattle of stones set him wide on
the alert--and--Heavens! what was this?

Seeming to rise out of the ground, something huge and black rose up in
the moonlight. There it stood, the terrible beast, the manslayer,
gigantic in its might, and for a moment the spectator stood petrified.
This then was what he had come out to find, he in his puniness! The
curved horns gleamed viciously, the fierce head with its mail-clad
frontlet moved to and fro, the dilated nostrils sniffing the air as
though scenting the presence of an enemy.

It was a nerve-trying sight, and the startling suddenness of the
apparition rendered it more so. Dick Selmes' nerves were sound and in
good training, yet the thought that here he was, alone with this
monster, certain death before him if he failed to kill at the first
shot, might well have unsteadied him. The great bull was standing
turned sideways, and did not seem actually to have seen him. By slowly
sinking down behind the bush he might still escape.

But escape was not what he had come out for. He had come out to kill,
and that to his own hand. So aiming carefully where he thought the
heart should be, he pressed the trigger.

The effect was startling. There was a snort and then a series of savage
bellowings rent the night. The huge, grisly head was tossed from side
to side and the white foam poured from the open mouth. Quickly Dick
Selmes slipped another cartridge into the rifle brooch, but before he
could so much as bring the piece to his shoulder the brute sighted him,
and came straight for him.

In a flash Dick realised that there was nothing to aim at but the
mail-clad head. He turned and ran, and as he ran, the dictum of Harley
Greenoak as to the buffalo holding first rank among dangerous game, and
held in greater respect than any by old hunters, leapt through his mind.
And he in his rawness had come out to tackle this terror single-handed,
and at night. The thunder of his huge pursuer shook the ground beneath
him, the savage growling bellow of its appalling voice was in his ears,
the vision of its man