there would have been an end of Abou Do. The
old man plunged into the deep pool just quitted by the hippo, and
landed upon our side; while in the enthusiasm of the moment I
waved my cap above my head, and gave him a British cheer as he
reached the shore. His usually stern features relaxed into a grim
smile of delight: this was one of those moments when the
gratified pride of the hunter rewards him for any risks. I
congratulated him upon his dexterity: but much remained to be
done. I proposed to cross the river, and to follow upon the
tracks of the hippopotamus, as I imagined that the buoy and rope
would catch in the thick jungle, and that we should find him
entangled in the bush; but the old hunter gently laid his hand
upon my arm, and pointed up the bed of the river, explaining that
the hippo would certainly return to the water after a short
interval.
In a few minutes later, at a distance of nearly half a mile, we
observed the hippo emerge from the jungle, and descend at full
trot to the bed of the river, making direct for the first rocky
pool in which we had noticed the herd of hippopotami. Accompanied
by the old howarti (hippo hunter), we walked quickly towards the
spot: he explained to me that I must shoot the harpooned hippo,
as we should not be able to secure him in the usual method by
ropes, as nearly all our men were absent from camp, disposing of
the dead elephants.
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