If I had fired again it would have been but to wound, a thing I hate.

The whole business was over in a minute.

We went and looked at my dead cow which I had caught through the heart.
"It's cruel to kill these things," I said, "for I don't know what use we are going to make of them, and they must love life as much as we do." "We'll cut the horns off," said Anscombe.
"You may if you like," I answered, "but you will find it a tough job with a sheath knife." "Yes, I think that shall be the task of the worthy Footsack to-morrow," he replied.

"Meanwhile let us go and finish off my bull, as Footsack & Co.

may as well bring home two pair of horns as one." I looked at the dense bush, and knowing something of the habits of wounded buffaloes, reflected that it would be a nasty job.
Still I said nothing, because if I hesitated, I knew he would want to go alone.