Then I guessed the truth.

The buffalo's horns had missed him.

He had been struck only with its muddy nose, which, being almost as broad as that portion of Umbezi with which it came in contact, had inflicted nothing worse than a bruise.

When I was sure he had received no serious injury, my temper, already sorely tried, gave out, and I administered to him the soundest smacking--his position being very convenient--that he had ever received since he was a little boy.
"Get up, you idiot!" I shouted, "and let us look for the others.

This is the end of your folly in making me attack a herd of buffalo in reeds.
Get up.