My bird, floundering
forwards, flung me to the ground about two hundred yards from the
jungle, fortunately at a greater distance from the dying but not yet
utterly disabled prey. Its companion now came forth and stood over the
tortured creature, licking its sores till it expired. By this time I
had recovered the consciousness I had lost with the shock of my fall,
and had ascertained that my gun was safe. I had but time to prepare
and level it when, leaving its dead companion, the brute turned and
charged me almost as rapidly as an infuriated elephant. I fired
several times and assured, if only from my skill as a marksman, that
some of the shots had hit it, was surprised to see that at each it was
only checked for a moment and then resumed its charge. It was so near
now that I could aim with some confidence at the eye; and if, as I
suspected, the previous shots had failed to pierce the hide, no other
aim was likely to avail. I levelled, therefore, as steadily as I could
at its blazing eyeballs and fired three or four shots, still without
doing more than arrest or rather slacken its charge, each shot
provoking a fearful roar of rage and pain.
Pages:
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453