t one evening trying to shoot something for our dinner, when
between the trees I caught sight of a small buck. It vanished round a
little promontory of rock which projected from the side of the kloof,
walking quietly, not running in alarm. We followed after it. I was the
first, and had just wriggled round these rocks and perceived the buck
standing about ten paces away (it was a bush-bok), when I heard a rustle
among the bushes on the top of the rock not a dozen feet above my head,
and Charlie Scroope's voice calling:

"Look out, Quatermain! He's coming."

"Who's coming?" I answered in an irritated tone, for the noise had made
the buck run away.

Then it occurred to me, all in an instant of course, that a man would
not begin to shout like that for nothing; at any rate when his supper
was concerned. So I glanced up above and behind me. To this moment I can
remember exactly what I saw. There was the granite water-worn boulder,
or rather several boulders, with ferns growing in their cracks of the
maiden-hair tribe, most of them, but some had a silver sheen on the
under side of their leaves. On one of these leaves, bending it down, sat
a large beetle with red wings and a black body engaged in rubbing its
antennae with its front paws. And above, just appearing over the top of
the rock, was the head of an extremely fine leopard. As I write to
seem to perceive its square jowl outlined against the arc of the quiet
evening sky with the saliva dropping from its lips.

This was the last thing which I did perceive for a little while, since
at that moment the leopard--we call them tigers in South Africa--dropped
upon my back and knocked me flat as a pancake. I presume that it also
had been stalking the buck and was angry at my appearance on the scene.
Down I went, luckily for me, into a patch of mossy soil.

"All up!" I said to myself, for I felt the brute's weight upon my back
pressing me down among the moss, and what was worse, its hot breath upon
my neck as it dropped its jaws to bite me in the head. Then I heard
the report of Scroope's rifle, followed by furious snarling from the
leopard, which evidently had been hit. Also it seemed to think that I
had caused its injuries, for it seized me by the shoulder. I felt its
teeth slip along my skin, but happily they only fastened in the shooting
coat of tough corduroy that I was wearing. It began to shake me, then
let go to get a better grip. Now, remembering that Scroope only carr