Maiwa's Revenge; Or, The War of the Little HandHaggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
General
Maiwa's Revenge; Or, The War of the Little Hand
Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Africa -- Fiction; Hunting guides -- Fiction; Quatermain, Allan (Fictitious character) -- Fiction; Revenge -- Fiction
Luckily for him the
rhinoceros never turned, but crashed straight through the aloe bush,
only missing the man who had jumped into it by about a yard.
“Then followed a complication. The sleeping buffalo on the further side
of the bush, hearing the noise, sprang to his feet, and for a second,
not knowing what to do, stood still. At that instant the huge
rhinoceros blundered right on to him, and getting his horn beneath his
stomach gave him such a fearful dig that the buffalo was turned over on
to his back, while his assailant went a most amazing cropper over his
carcase. In another moment, however, the rhinoceros was up, and
wheeling round to the left, crashed through the bush down-hill and
towards the open country.
“Instantly the whole place became alive with alarming sounds. In every
direction troops of snorting buffaloes charged through the forest, wild
with fright, while the injured bull on the further side of the bush
began to bellow like a mad thing. I lay quite still for a moment,
devoutly praying that none of the flying buffaloes would come my way.
Then when the danger lessened I got on to my feet, shook myself, and
looked round. One of my boys, he who had thrown himself backward into
the bush, was already half way up a tree—if heaven had been at the top
of it he could not have climbed quicker. Gobo was lying close to me,
groaning vigorously, but, as I suspected, quite unhurt; while from the
aloe bush into which No. 3 had bounded like a tennis ball, issued a
succession of the most piercing yells.
“I looked, and saw that this unfortunate fellow was in a very tight
place. A great spike of aloe had run through the back of his skin
waist-belt, though without piercing his flesh, in such a fashion that
it was impossible for him to move, while within six feet of him the
injured buffalo bull, thinking, no doubt, that he was the aggressor,
bellowed and ramped to get at him, tearing the thick aloes with his
great horns. That no time was to be lost, if I wished to save the man’s
life, was very clear. So seizing my eight-bore, which was fortunately
uninjured, I took a pace to the left, for the rhinoceros had enlarged
the hole in the bush, and aimed at the point of the buffalo’s shoulder,
since on account of my position I could not get a fair side shot for
the heart. As I did so I saw that the rhinoceros had given the bull a
tremendous wound in the stomach, and that the shock of the encounter
had put his left hind-leg out of joint at the hip. I fired, and the
bullet striking the shoulder broke it, and knocked the buffalo down. I
knew that he could not get up any more, because he was now injured fore
and aft, so notwithstanding his terrific bellows I scrambled round to
where he was. There he lay glaring furiously and tearing up the soil
with his horns. Stepping up to within two yards of him I aimed at the
vertebra of his neck and fired. The bullet struck true, and with a thud
he dropped his head upon the ground, groaned, and died.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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