Hardly had I arrived at the spot where they had
disappeared, when first one and then another head popped up and
again sank, until one more hardy than the rest ventured to appear
within fifty yards, and to bellow as before. Once more the No. 10
crashed through his head, and again the waltzing and struggling
commenced like the paddling of a steamer: this time, however, the
stunned hippo in its convulsive efforts came so close to the
shore that I killed it directly in shallow water, by a forehead
shot with the little Fletcher. I concluded from this result that
my first hippo must also be lying dead in deep water.
The Arabs, having heard the shots fired, had begun to gather
towards the spot, and, upon my men shouting that a hippo was
killed, crowds came running to the place with their knives and
ropes, while others returned to their encampment to fetch camels
and mat bags to convey the flesh. In half an hour at least three
hundred Arabs were on the spot; the hippo had been hauled to
shore by ropes, and, by the united efforts of the crowd, the
heavy carcase had been rolled to the edge of the water. Here the
attack commenced; no pack of hungry hyaenas could have been more
savage.
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