Disturbed by the trample of four-score fleeing wildebeest, a troop of buffalo, which had been resting in the shade of the river bush, suddenly emerged from their concealment and began to run up wind, taking very much the course of the retreating gnu. They had not gone a hundred yards when there burst from the seclusion of the river greenery, just in advance of them, two huge, unwieldy figures. It needed not Poeskop’s excited exclamation of "Rhinoster, baas!" to convince Guy that he now saw before him a brace of rhinoceroses, as well as buffaloes and blue wildebeest. It was a thrilling moment; and the lad, with blithe countenance and the light of supreme joy--the wild joy of the hunter--in his blue eyes, shook up his good pony to yet a faster pace. The blue wildebeest were neglected now; which should he first go for, the buffaloes or the rhinoceroses? His mind was instantly made up. The buffaloes were nearest, no more than two hundred yards away; he would have a try at them first. With a press of the knees and a touch of the spur, Guy sent his pony at his hardest gallop. In less than ten minutes he was close up to the herd. Suddenly reining up, and jumping from his nag, he took aim at a huge old bull, carrying a pair of massive horns. The shot was a good one; and as the troop thundered on, the bull turned aside, galloped on for another fifty yards, and stood. "Baas, get on the horse again," whispered Poeskop, who had ridden up with Guy’s second rifle. "If he charges you on foot he’ll catch you." Guy looked at the grim beast, standing moodily waiting for his foes, with head down and eye askance, and thought the advice good. Jumping on to his pony again, he took the Martini rifle from Poeskop, handing him his Mannlicher in return, and moved to the right to get a better shot at the beast’s shoulder. Suddenly and without warning the bull charged, galloping down upon them at a pace that, considering its short legs and enormously massive frame, seemed little short of marvellous. The fleeing hunters, looking back as they rode, saw the bull within twenty yards of their horses’ tails. Would he catch them? "_Pas op_ [look out]!" cried the Bushman, as they both turned and fled, digging their rowels into the flanks of their startled steeds. But the beast was too sorely wounded to run far. The charge was a short one, and the buffalo, dripping blood from his distended nostrils and mouth, stood again. Again Guy approached, this time very warily. He walked his pony to within fifty paces of the bull, and then, getting a quick but steady aim from his saddle, fired. As the loud report of the rifle rattled out upon the hot air, the sturdy brute staggered, sank to the veldt, and, with the strange moaning bellow characteristic of these animals in their last moments, yielded up his breath.