Jock Of The Bushveld by Sir Percy Fitzpatrick (Chapter 19)( Page 5 ) Jocks Mistake

I have the impression--as one sees oneself in a nightmare--of a person throwing up his arms and calling the name of his child as a train passed over it. Jock lay limp and motionless, with the blood oozing from mouth, nose, and eyes.  I recollect feeling for his heart-beat and breath, and shaking him roughly and calling him by name; then, remembering the pool near by, I left him in the shade of a tree, filled my hat with water, ran back again and poured it over him and into his mouth, shaking him again to rouse him, and several times pressing his sides--bellows fashion--in a ridiculous effort to restore breathing. The old hat was leaky and I had to grip the rough-cut ventilations to make it hold any water at all, and I was returning with a second supply when with a great big heart-jump, I saw Jock heel over from his side and with his fore legs flat on the ground raise himself to a resting position, his head wagging groggily and his eyes blinking in a very dazed way. He took no notice when I called his name, but at the touch of my hand his ears moved up and the stumpy tail scraped feebly in the dead leaves. He was stone deaf; but I did not know it then.  He lapped a little of the water, sneezed the blood away and licked his chops; and then, with evident effort, stood up. But this is the picture which it is impossible to forget.  The dog was still so dazed and shaken that he reeled slightly, steadying himself by spreading his legs well apart, and there followed a few seconds' pause in which he stood thus; and then he began to walk forward with the uncertain staggery walk of a toddling child.  His jaws were set close; his eyes were beady black, and he looked `fight' all over.  He took no notice of me; and I, never dreaming that he was after the koodoo, watched the walk quicken to a laboured trot before I moved or called; but he paid no heed to the call.  For the first time in his life there was rank open defiance of orders, and he trotted slowly along with his nose to the ground.  Then I understood; and, thinking he was maddened by the kick and not quite responsible for himself, and--more than that-- admiring his pluck far too much to be angry, I ran to bring him back; but at a turn in his course he saw me coming, and this time he obeyed the call and signal instantly, and with a limp air of disappointment followed quietly back to the tree.

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.