of
tremendous bulk, come feeding past within easy range. The two men
glance at one another, and with a nod single out their victims.

On a sudden their heavy rifles roar out together. One of the bulls
falls instantly to the shot; the other staggers, but plunges on. There
is a terrific commotion among the herd. The great beasts all gallop
left-handed, seeking an outlet in the ring of bush. Through the lagoon
they splash, driving the water in masses of spray about them, and then
away they rave through grass and undergrowth, making the earth thunder
beneath them. Bill, whose buffalo has for the moment escaped, selects a
fat cow, and with two bullets well planted brings her down. The vast
troop has passed away, and they now emerge to inspect their quarry.

The dead buffaloes are fine specimens, and in high condition and,
leaving Tatenyan behind to begin the skinning and cutting-up process,
the two Englishmen now proceed together with Cobus to take up the
blood-spoor of the wounded bull and finish him off. He carries a
magnificent pair of horns--a champion head--which Bill yearns to possess
himself of.

Cobus, with the marvellous skill of the native African hunter, quickly
separates the trail of the wounded beast from its scores of fellows, and
presently, as they enter the bush, bears suddenly to the left. The
stricken brute has turned him aside from the battle, and the main body
of the troop have plunged right-handed through the bush to seek shelter
in the dense reed-beds not far away.

At first the blood-spoor, which is now easily followed, takes them
through fairly open bush, in which they can see about them without much
difficulty. So far all is well. A wounded buffalo is, as all hunters
know, the most dangerous and tricky beast in Africa, and in thickish
bush his pursuer must needs follow him yard by yard with his life in his
hand. Presently the spoor takes them by a narrow game-path through
impenetrable thorny covert six or eight feet high. Patches of bright
red blood show that the buffalo is bleeding freely, and from the lungs;
he cannot go far at this rate. Cobus, who has led the way hitherto,
looks at the dark wall of bush on either hand, indicates the deep shade
thrown here and there, and the possibility of dangerous ambush at any
moment, and shakes his head. He likes the job little enough, and he is
perfectly right. To go on is to risk a violent death, and there is
little chance of escape from