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The Land of Footprints-Part37_Stewart Edward White(1873-1946)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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seemed that luck had changed at last.

We settled ourselves, unlimbered for action, and got our breath.



The buffaloes came nearer and nearer. At length, through a tiny

opening a hundred yards away, we could catch momentary glimpses



of their great black bodies. I thrust forward the safety catch

and waited. Finally a half dozen of the huge beasts were feeding



not six feet inside the circle of brush, and only thirty-odd

yards from where we lay.



And they came no farther! I never passed a more heart-breaking

half hour of suspense than that in which little by little the



daylight and our hopes faded, while those confounded buffaloes

moved slowly out to the very edge of the thicket, turned, and



moved as slowly back again. At times they came actually into

view. We could see their sleek black bodies rolling lazily into



sight and back again, like seals on the surface of water, but

never could we make out more than that. I could have had a dozen



good shots, but I could not even guess what I would be shooting

at. And the daylight drained away and the minutes ticked by!



Finally, as I could see no end to this performance save that to

which we had been so sickeningly accustomed in the last four



days, I motioned to Memba Sasa, and together we glided like

shadows into the thicket.



There it was already dusk. We sneaked breathlessly through the

small openings, desperately in a hurry, almost painfully on the



alert. In the dark shadow sixty yards ahead stood a half dozen

monstrous bodies all facing our way. They suspected the presence



of something unusual, but in the darkness and the stillness they

could neither identify it nor locate it exactly. I dropped on one



knee and snatched my prism glasses to my eyes. The magnification

enabled me to see partially into the shadows. Every one of the



group carried the sharply inturned points to the horns: they were

all cows!



An instant after I had made out this fact, they stampeded across

our face. The whole band thundered and crashed away.



Desperately we sprang after them, our guns atrail, our bodies

stooped low to keep down in the shadow of the earth. And



suddenly, without the slightest warning we plumped around a bush

square on top of the entire herd. It had stopped and was staring



back in our direction. I could see nothing but the wild toss of a

hundred pair of horns silhouetted against such of the irregular



saffron afterglow as had not been blocked off by the twigs and

branches of the thicket. All below was indistinguishable



blackness.

They stood in a long compact semicircular line thirty yards away,



quite still, evidently staring intently into the dusk to find out

what had alarmed them. At any moment they were likely to make



another rush; and if they did so in the direction they were

facing, they would most certainly run over us and trample us



down.

Remembering the dusk I thought it likely that the unexpected



vivid flash of the gun might turn them off before they got

started. Therefore I raised the big double Holland, aimed below



the line of heads, and was just about to pull trigger when my eye

caught the silhouette of a pair of horns whose tips spread out



instead of turning in. This was a bull, and I immediately shifted

the gun in his direction. At the heavy double report, the herd



broke wildly to right and left and thundered away. I confess I

was quite relieved.



A low moaning bellow told us that our bull was down. The last few

days' experience at being out late had taught us wisdom so Memba



Sasa had brought a lantern. By the light of this, we discovered

our bull down, and all but dead. To make sure, I put a Winchester



bullet into his backbone.

We felt ourselves legitimately open to congratulations, for we



had killed this bull from a practically nocturnal herd, in the

face of considerable danger and more than considerable



difficulty. Therefore we shook hands and made appropriate remarks

to each other, lacking anybody to make them for us.



By now it was pitch dark in the thicket, and just about so

outside. We had to do a little planning. I took the Holland gun,



gave Memba Sasa the Winchester, and started him for camp after

help. As he carried off the lantern, it was now up to me to make






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