jock Of The Bushveld by Sir Percy Fitzpatrick ( Chapter 11 )( Page 2 ) The Koodoo Bull

There had been no time to aim, and the shot--a real snap shot--was not at all a bad one.  It was after that that the natural effect of such a meeting and such a chance began to tell.  Thinking it all out beforehand does not help much, for things never happen as they are expected to; and even months of practice among the smaller kinds will not ensure a steady nerve when you just come face to face with big game--there seems to be too much at stake. I fired again as the koodoo recovered himself, but he was then seventy or eighty yards away and partly hidden at times by trees and scrub.  He struck up the slope, following the line of the troop through the scattered thorns, and there, running hard and dropping quickly to my knee for steadier aim, I fired again and again--but each time a longer shot and more obscured by the intervening bush; and no tell-tale thud came back to cheer me on. Forgetting the last night's experience, forgetting everything except how we had twice chased and twice lost them, seeing only another and the grandest prize slipping away, I sent Jock on and followed as fast as I could.  Once more the koodoo came in sight--just a chance at four hundred yards as he reached an open space on rising ground.  Jock was already closing up, but still unseen, and the noble old fellow turned full broadside to me as he stopped to look back.  Once more I knelt, gripping hard and holding my breath to snatch a moment's steadiness, and fired; but I missed again, and as the bullet struck under him he plunged forward and disappeared over the rise at the moment that Jock, dashing out from the scrub, reached his heels. The old Martini carbine had one bad fault; even I could not deny that; years of rough and careless treatment in all sorts of weather--for it was only a discarded old Mounted Police weapon--had told on it, and both in barrel and breech it was well pitted with rust scars.  One result of this was that it was always jamming, and unless the cartridges were kept well greased the empty shells would stick and the ejector fail to work; and this was almost sure to happen when the carbine became hot from quick firing.  It jammed now, and fearing to lose sight of the chase I dared not stop a second, but ran on, struggling from time to time to wrench the breach open. Reaching the place where they had disappeared, I saw with intense relief and excitement Jock and the koodoo having it out less than a hundred yards away.  The koodoo's leg was broken right up in the ham, and it was a terrible handicap for an animal so big and heavy, but his nimbleness and quickness were astonishing.  Using the sound hind leg as a pivot he swung round, always facing his enemy; Jock was in and out, here, there and everywhere, as a buzzing fly torments one on a hot day; and indeed, to the koodoo just then he was the fly and nothing more; he could only annoy his big enemy, and was playing with his life to do it.  Sometimes he tried to get round; sometimes pretended to charge straight in, stopping himself with all four feet spread--just out of reach; then like a red streak he would fly through the air with a snap for the koodoo's nose.  It was a fight for life and a grand sight; for the koodoo, in spite of his wound, easily held his own.  No doubt he had fought out many a life and death struggle to win and hold his place as lord of the herd and knew every trick of attack and defence.  Maybe too he was blazing with anger and contempt for this persistent little gad-fly that worried him so and kept out of reach.  Sometimes he snorted and feinted to charge; at other times backed slowly, giving way to draw the enemy on; then with a sudden lunge the great horns swished like a scythe with a tremendous reach out, easily covering the spot where Jock had been a fraction of a second before.  There were pauses too in which he watched his tormentor steadily, with occasional impatient shakes of the head, or, raising it to full height, towered up a monument of splendid and contemptuous indifference, looking about with big angry but unfrightened eyes for the herd--his herd--that had deserted him; or with a slight toss of his head he would walk limpingly forward, forcing the ignored Jock before him; then, interrupted and annoyed by a flying snap at his nose, he would spring forward and strike with the sharp cloven fore foot--zip-zip-zip--at Jock as he landed.  Any one of the vicious flashing stabs would have pinned him to the earth and finished him; but Jock was never there.