We had not gone two hundred yards through the bush when suddenly about fifty paces away, standing broadside on in the shadow between two trees, I saw a splendid old bull with a tremendous pair of horns.
"Shoot," I whispered to Anscombe, "you will never get a better chance.

It is the sentinel of the herd." He knelt down, his face quite white with excitement, and covered the bull with his Express.
"Keep cool," I whispered again, "and aim behind the shoulder, half-way down." I don't think he understood me, for at that moment off went the rifle.

He hit the beast somewhere, as I heard the bullet clap, but not fatally, for it turned and lumbered off up the kloof, apparently unhurt, whereon he sent the second barrel after it, a clean miss this time.

Then of a sudden all about us appeared buffaloes that had, I suppose, been sleeping invisible to us.
These, with snorts and bellows, rushed off towards the river, for having their senses about them, they had no mind to be trapped in the kloof.

I could only manage a shot at one of them, a large and long-horned cow which I knocked over quite dead.