The Rifle And The Hound In Ceylon(Fiscle Part-3) by Sir Samuel White Baker (reading books for 4 year olds txt) 📖

Cursing His Cowardice,  I Fired A Long Shot At Him,  And

Reloading My Last Spare Ball I Continued The Chase,  Led On By Ignorance

And Excitement.

 

The Lake In One Part Stretched In A Narrow Creek Into The Plain,  And The

Bull Now Directed His Course Into The Angle Formed By This Turn. I

Thought That I Lead Him In A Corner,  And,  Redoubling My Exertions,  I

Gained Upon Him Considerably. He Retreated Slowly To The Very Edge Of

The Creek,  And I Had Gained So Fast Upon Him That I Was Not Thirty Paces

Distant,  When He Plunged Into The Water And Commenced Swimming Across

The Creek. This Was Not More Than Sixty Yards In Breadth,  And I Knew

That I Could Now Bring Him To Action.

 

Running Round The Borders Of The Creek As Fast As I Could,  I Arrived At

The Opposite Side On His Intended Landing-Place Just As His Black Form

Reared From The Deep Water And Gained The Shallows,  Into Which I Had

Waded Knee-Deep To Meet Him. I Now Experienced That Pleasure As He Stood

Sullenly Eyeing Me Within Fifteen Paces. Poor Stupid Fellow! I Would

Willingly,  In My Ignorance,  Have Betted Ten To One Upon The Shot,  So

Certain Was I Of His Death In Another Instant.

 

I Took A Quick But Steady Aim At His Chest,  At The Point Of Connection

With The Throat. The Smoke Of The Barrel Passed To One Side;--There He

Stood--He Had Not Flinched; He Literally Had Not Moved A Muscle. The

Only Change That Had Taken Place Was In His Eye; This,  Which Had

Hitherto Been Merely Sullen,  Was Now Beaming With Fury; But His Form Was

As Motionless As A Statue. A Stream Of Blood Poured From A Wound Within

An Inch Of The Spot At Which I Had Aimed; Had It Not Been For This Fact,

I Should Not Have Believed Him Struck.

 

Annoyed At The Failure Of The Shot,  I Tried Him With The Left-Hand

Barrel At The Same Hole. The Report Of The Gun Echoed Over The Lake,  But

There He Stood As Though He Bore A Charmed Life;--An Increased Flow Of

Blood From The Wound And Additional Lustre In His Eye Were The Only

Signs Of His Being Struck.

 

I Was Unloaded,  And Had Not A Single Ball Remaining. It Was Now His

Turn. I Dared Not Turn To Retreat,  As I Knew He Would Immediately

Charge,  And We Stared Each Other Out Of Countenance.

 

With A Short Grunt He Suddenly Sprang Forward,  But Fortunately,  As I Did

Not Move,  He Halted; He Had,  However,  Decreased His Distance,  And We Now

Gazed At Each Other Within Ten Paces. I Began To Think Buffalo-Shooting

Somewhat Dangerous,  And I Would Have Given Something To Have Been A Mile

Part 3 Chapter 3 Pg 23

Away,  But Ten Times As Much To Have Had My Four-Ounce Rifle In My Hand.

Oh,  How I Longed For That Rifle In This Moment Of Suspense! Unloaded,

Without The Power Of Defence,  With The Absolute Certainty Of A Charge

From An Overpowering Brute,  My Hand Instinctively Found The Handle Of My

Hunting-Knife,  A Useless Weapon Against Such A Foe.

 

Knowing That B. Was Not Aware Of My Situation At The Distance Which

Separated Us (About A Mile),  Without Taking My Eyes From The Figure

Before Me,  I Raised My Hand To My Mouth And Gave A Long And Loud

Whistle; This Was A Signal That I Knew Would Be Soon Answered If Heard.

 

With A Stealthy Step And Another Short Grunt,  The Bull Again Advanced A

Couple Of Paces Towards Me. He Seemed Aware Of My Helplessness,  And He

Was The Picture Of Rage And Fury,  Pawing The Water And Stamping

Violently With His Forefeet.

 

This Was Very Pleasant! I Gave Myself Up For Lost,  But Putting As Fierce

An Expression Into My Features As I Could Possibly Assume,  I Stared

Hopelessly At My Maddened Antagonist.

 

Suddenly A Bright Thought Flashed Through My Mind. Without Taking My

Eyes Off The Animal Before Me,  I Put A Double Charge Of Powder Down The

Right-Hand Barrel,  And Tearing Off A Piece Of My Shirt,  I Took All The

Money From My Pouch,  Three Shillings In Sixpenny Pieces,  And Two Anna

Pieces,  Which I Luckily Had With Me In This Small Coin For Paying

Coolies. Quickly Making Them Into A Rouleau With The Piece Of Rag,  I

Rammed Them Down The Barrel,  And They Were Hardly Well Home Before The

Bull Again Sprang Forward. So Quick Was It That I Had No Time To Replace

The Ramrod,  And I Threw It In The Water,  Bringing My Gun On Full Cock In

The Same Instant. However,  He Again Halted,  Being Now Within About Seven

Paces From Me,  And We Again Gazed Fixedly At Each Other,  But With

Altered Feelings On My Part. I Had Faced Him Hopelessly With An Empty

Gun For More Than A Quarter Of An Hour,  Which Seemed A Century. I Now

Had A Charge In My Gun,  Which I Knew If Reserved Till He Was Within A

Foot Of The Muzzle Would Certainly Floor Him,  And I Awaited His Onset

With Comparative Carelessness,  Still Keeping My Eyes Opposed To His

Gaze.

 

At This Time I Heard A Splashing In The Water Behind Me,  Accompanied By

The Hard Breathing Of Something Evidently Distressed. The Next Moment I

Heard B.'S Voice. He Could Hardly Speak For Want Of Breath,  Having Run

The Whole Way To My Rescue,  But I Could Understand That He Had Only One

Barrel Loaded,  And No Bullets Left. I Dared Not Turn My Face From The

Buffalo,  But I Cautioned B. To Reserve His Fire Till The Bull Should Be

Close Into Me,  And Then To Aim At The Head.

 

The Words Were Hardly Uttered,  When,  With The Concentrated Rage Of The

Last Twenty Minutes,  He Rushed Straight At Me! It Was The Work Of An

Instant. B. Fired Without Effect. The Horns Were Lowered,  Their Points

Were On Either Side Of Me,  And The Muzzle Of The Gun Barely Touched His

Forehead When I Pulled The Trigger,  And Three Shillings' Worth Of Small

Change Rattled Into His Hard Head. Down He Went,  And Rolled Over With

The Suddenly Checked Momentum Of His Charge. Away Went B. And I As Fast

As Our Heels Would Carry Us,  Through The Water And Over The Plain,

Knowing That He Was Not Dead But Only Stunned. There Was A Large Fallen

Tree About Half A Mile From Us,  Whose Whitened Branches,  Rising High

Above The Ground,  Offered A Tempting Asylum. To This We Directed Our

Flying Steps,  And,  After A Run Of A Hundred Yards,  We Turned And Looked

Behind Us. He Had Regained His Feet And Was Following Us Slowly. We Now

Experienced The Difference Of Feeling Between Hunting And Being Hunted,

And Fine Sport We Must Have Afforded Him.

 

On He Came,  But Fortunately So Stunned By The Collision With Her

Majesty's Features Upon The Coin Which He Had Dared To Oppose That He

Could Only Reel Forward At A Slow Canter. By Degrees Even This Pace

Slackened,  And He Fell. We Were Only Too Glad To Be Able To Reduce Our

Speed Likewise,  But We Had No Sooner Stopped To Breathe,  Than He Was

Again Up And After Us. At Length,  However,  We Gained The Tree,  And We

Beheld Him With Satisfaction Stretched Powerless Upon The Ground,  But

Not Dead,  Within Two Hundred Yards Of Us.

 

We Retreated Under Cover Of The Forest To The Spot At Which We Had Left

The Horses,  Fortunately Meeting No Opposition From Wild Animals,  And We

Shortly Arrived At The Village At Which We Took Up Our Quarters,  Vowing

Vengeance On The Following Morning For The Defeat That We Had Sustained.

 

A Man Is A Poor Defenceless Wretch If Left To Defend Himself Against

Wild Animals With The Simple Natural Weapons Of Arms,  Legs,  And Teeth. A

Tom-Cat Would Almost Be A Match For Him. He Has Legs Which Will Neither

Serve Him For Pursuit Or Escape If He Is Forced To Trust Only In His

Speed. He Has Strength Of Limb Which Is Useless Without Some Artificial

Weapon. He Is An Animal Who,  Without The Power Of Reason,  Could Not Even

Exist In A Wild State; His Brain Alone Gives Him The Strength To Support

His Title Of Lord Of The Creation.

 

Nevertheless,  A Lord Of The Creation Does Not Appear In Much Majesty

When Running For His Life From An Infuriated Buffalo;--The Assumed Title

Sits Uneasily Upon Him When,  With Scarcely A Breath Left In His Body,  He

Struggles Along Till He Is Ready To Drop With Fatigue,  Expecting To Be

Overtaken At Every Step. We Must Certainly Have Exhibited Poor Specimens

Of The Boasted Sway Of Man Over The Brute Creation Could A Stranger Have

Witnessed Our Flight On This Occasion.

 

The Next Morning We Were Up At Daybreak,  And We Returned To The

Battlefield Of The Previous Evening In The Full Expectation Of Seeing

Our Wounded Antagonist Lying Dead Where We Had Left Him. In This We Were

Disappointed--He Was Gone,  And We Never Saw Him Again.

 

I Now Had My Long Two-Ounce And My Four-Ounce Rifles With Me,  And I Was

Fully Prepared For A Deep Revenge For The Disgrace Of Yesterday.

 

The Morning Was Clear But Cloudy; A Heavy Thunderstorm During The Night

Part 3 Chapter 3 Pg 24

Had Cooled The Air,  And The Whole Plain Was Glistening With Bright

Drops; The Peacocks Were Shrieking From The Tree-Tops And Spreading

Their Gaudy Plumage To The Cool Breeze; And The Whole Face Of Nature

Seemed Refreshed. We Felt The Same Invigorating Spirit,  And We Took A

Long Survey Of The Many Herds Of Buffaloes Upon The Plain Before We

Could Determine Which We Should First Attack.

 

A Large Single Bull,  Who Had Been Lying In A Swampy Hollow Unobserved By

Us,  Suddenly Sprang Up At About Three Hundred Yards' Distance,  And

Slowly Cantered Off. I Tried The Long Two-Ounce Rifle At Him,  But,

Taking Too Great An Elevation,  I Fired Over Him. The Report,  However,

Had The Effect Of Turning Him,  And,  Instead Of Retreating,  He Wheeled

Round And Attempted To Pass Between The Guns And The Banks Of The Lake.

We Were About Three Hundred Yards From The Water's Edge,  And He Was Soon

Passing Us At Full Gallop At Right Angles,  About Midway Or A Hundred And

Fifty Yards Distant.

 

I Had Twelve Drachms Of Powder In The Four-Ounce Rifle,  And I Took A

Flying Shot At His Shoulder. No Visible Effect Was Produced,  And The

Ball Ricochetted Completely Across The Broad Surface Of The Lake (Which

Was No More Than A Mile Wide At This Part) In Continuous Splashes. The

Gun-Bearers Said I Had Fired Behind Him,  But I Had Distinctly Heard The

Peculiar 'Fut' Which A Ball Makes Upon Striking An Animal,  And Although

The Passage Of The Ball Across The Lake Appeared Remarkable,

Nevertheless I Felt Positive That It Had First Passed Through Some

Portion Of The Animal.

 

Away The Bull Sped Over The Plain At Unabated Speed For About Two

Hundred Paces,  When He Suddenly Turned And Charged Toward The Guns. On

He Came For About A Hundred Yards,  But Evidently Slackening His Speed At

Every Stride. At Length He Stopped Altogether. His Mouth Was Wide Open,

And I Could Now Distinguish A Mass Of Bloody