Jock Of The Bushveld by Sir Percy Fitzpatrick (Chapter 19)( Page 4 ) Jocks Mistake

No two days were quite alike; yet many were alike in the sense that they were successful without hitch and without interest to any but the hunters; many others were marked by chases in which Jock's part--most essential to success--too closely resembled that of other days to be worth repeating.  On that day he had, as usual, been the one to see the wildebeeste and had `given the word' in time; the rest was only one straight shot.  That was fair partnership in which both were happy; but there was nothing to talk about. There was very little wanton shooting with us, for when we had more fresh meat than was required, as often happened, it was dried as `bultong' for the days of shortage which were sure to come. I started off early next morning with the boys to bring in the meat, and went on foot, giving Snowball a rest, more or less deserved.  By nine o'clock the boys were on their way back, and leaving them to take the direct route I struck away eastwards along the line of the pools, not expecting much and least of all dreaming that fate had one of the worst days in store for us: "From cloudless heavens her lightnings glance" did not occur to my mind as we moved silently along in the bright sunshine. We passed the second pool, loitering a few minutes in the cool shade of the evergreens to watch the green pigeons feeding on the wild figs and peering down curiously at us; then moved briskly into more open ground. It is not wise to step too suddenly out of the dark shade into strong glare, and it may have been that act of carelessness that enabled the koodoo to get off before I saw them.  They cantered away in a string with the cows in the rear, between me and two full-grown bulls.  It was a running sho --end on--and the last of the troop, a big cow, gave a stumble; but catching herself up again she cantered off slowly.  Her body was all bunched up and she was pitching greatly, and her hind legs kept flying out in irregular kicks, much as you may see a horse kick out when a blind fly is biting him. There was no time for a second shot and we started off in hot pursuit; and fifty yards further on where there was a clear view I saw that the koodoo was going no faster than an easy canter, and Jock was close behind. Whether he was misled by the curious action, and believed there was a broken leg to grip, or was simply over bold, it is impossible to know. Whatever the reason, he jumped for one of the hind legs, and at the same moment the koodoo lashed out viciously.  One foot struck him under the jaw close to the throat, `whipped' his head and neck back like a bent switch, and hurled him somersaulting backwards.