oxen at all costs," ordered the General. The Masai
nodded, and a moment later five of his men went up nimbly into the big
mimosa, and threaded their way out along the branches until they stood
over the heads of the boys. The wagon and oxen were twenty feet behind,
and the remaining natives grouped before them.

"All right, boys," said Schoverling quietly. "Don't fire at the head,
remember, unless you are sure of the eye. We've got to stop them at
once."

Charlie and Jack lifted their guns. The tremendous beasts were a scant
fifty yards below, but more were crowding up from the reeds every
instant. The four white men spread out at intervals of a few yards, the
gun-bearers between. Von Hofe, shotgun in hand, stood on the long
wagon-tongue with Gholab Singh.

The three heavy Hammonds rang out with a crash. Charlie's bull went
down, as did two more, and a wild bellow of fury went up from the entire
herd. Instantly the second barrels streamed forth their deadly cordite,
and a mass of kicking, struggling animals lay below them, while from the
Masai streamed forth spears and arrows.

"Hope that holds them," said Schoverling, as they reloaded rapidly. The
gun-bearers, as good gun-bearers should, had not yet fired but stood
waiting till the last extremity.

"By golly!" yelled Jack, bringing up his rifle hurriedly. Instead of
being intimidated, the shots and powder-reek seemed to render the herd
more furious yet. Loud snortings, swishing tails and pawing hoofs
testified to their rage, and the bodies of the slain were trampled into
a bloody mass as the herd swept on.

Down went the foremost again, impeding those behind, and Schoverling
nodded to the Indians as he reloaded. The 30-30s spoke out, each of the
old soldiers wasting not a shot, but firing the five cartridges in his
magazine slowly and methodically. The scene below was terrible, and the
wild yells of the Masai rose high over the snorting and bellowing. But
great as was the slaughter, the immense herd poured up bodily, until
they were but thirty yards down the hill, the bodies of the killed
trampled underfoot, those behind pressing the others forward in mad
rage.

Now there was no let-up. Charlie loaded and fired as fast as he was
able, as did Jack and the rest. Another volley from the Indians helped,
and from the wagon von Hofe scattered bird-shot wildly, but Gholab's
little rifle-ball picked more than one bull neatly through the eye to
the brain.

From above