The
jungle was open, composed of thorny mimosas at such wide
intervals, that a horse could be ridden at considerable speed if
accustomed to the country. Altogether it was the perfection of
ground for shooting, and the chances were in favour of the rifle.
We had proceeded carefully about half a mile when I heard a
rustling in the grass, and I shortly perceived a bull buffalo
standing alone beneath a tree, close to the sandy bed of a dried
stream, about a hundred yards distant between us and the animal;
the grass had been entirely destroyed by the trampling of a large
herd. I took aim at the shoulder with one of my No. 10 Reilly
rifles, and the buffalo rushed forward at the shot, and fell
about a hundred paces beyond in the bush. At the report of the
shot, the herd that we had not observed, which had been lying
upon the sandy bed of the stream, rushed past us with a sound
like thunder, in a cloud of dust raised by several hundreds of
large animals in full gallop. I could hardly see them distinctly,
and I waited for a good chance, when presently a mighty bull
separated from the rest, and gave me a fair shoulder shot. I
fired a little too forward, and missed the shoulder; but I made
a still better shot by mistake, as the Reilly bullet broke the
spine through the neck, and dropped him dead.
Pages:
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379