A moment more and the
great beast had thundered by, taking no further notice of them.
"Forward," said Hadden, and leaving most of the men to cut up the heifer
and carry the best of her meat to camp, they started on the blood spoor.
For some hours they followed the bull, till at last they lost the trail
on a patch of stony ground thickly covered with bush, and exhausted by
the heat, sat down to rest and to eat some _biltong_ or sun-dried flesh
which they had with them. They finished their meal, and were preparing
to return to the camp, when one of the four Zulus who were with them
went to drink at a little stream that ran at a distance of not more than
ten paces away. Half a minute later they heard a hideous grunting noise
and a splashing of water, and saw the Zulu fly into the air. All the
while that they were eating, the wounded buffalo had been lying in
wait for them under a thick bush on the banks of the streamlet,
knowing--cunning brute that he was--that sooner or later his turn would
come. With a shout of consternation they rushed forward to see the bull
vanish over the rise before Hadden could get a chance of firing at him,
and to find their companion dying, for the great horn had pierced his
lung.
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