“Alas! it was too late. Bellowing madly, and spouting blood from mouth and nostrils, the devilish brute was on him, and had thrown him up like a feather, and then gored him twice as he lay. I struggled up with some wild idea of affording help, but before I had gone a step the buffalo gave one long sighing bellow, and rolled over dead by the side of his victim. “Mashune was still living, but a single glance at him told me that his hour had come. The buffalo’s horn had driven a great hole in his right lung, and inflicted other injuries. “I knelt down beside him in the uttermost distress, and took his hand. “‘Is he dead, Macumazahn?’ he whispered. ‘My eyes are blind; I cannot see.’ “‘Yes, he is dead.’ “‘Did the black devil hurt thee, Macumazahn?’ “‘No, my poor fellow, I am not much hurt.’ “‘Ow! I am glad.’ “Then came a long silence, broken only by the sound of the air whistling through the hole in his lung as he breathed. “‘Macumazahn, art thou there? I cannot feel thee.’ “‘I am here, Mashune.’ “‘I die, Macumazahn--the world flies round and round. I go--I go out into the dark! Surely, my father, at times in days to come--thou wilt think of Mashune who stood by thy side--when thou killest elephants, as we used--as we used----’ “They were his last words, his brave spirit passed with him. I dragged his body to the hole under the tree, and pushed it in, placing his broad assegai by him, according to the custom of his people, that he might not go defenceless on his long journey; and then, ladies--I am not ashamed to confess--I stood alone there before it, and wept like a woman.” End of Project Gutenberg’s Hunter Quatermain’s Story, by H. Rider Haggard