"Knock him over," suggested Schoverling lazily. "But we'll have to cut him up and cook him ourselves."
Jack agreed, as the boar trotted across the open space, followed by another. Catching up his 30-30, which lay with the other guns close at hand, he put a shot through the brain of the second animal. Charlie joined him and they ran out to bring in the body, as the Sikh was the only Indian who would touch pig's flesh.
"Say, Jack," exclaimed Charlie as they bent over the boar, "didn't it strike you queer that they'd run out that way? 'Most as if somethin' was after 'em."
"Right," and Jack sprang to his feet. Looking closely, they could see the tops of the twenty-foot reeds along the river-bank shaking heavily and slowly, as if massive bodies were advancing. "Maybe it's a rhino, Chuck. He wouldn't bother us—hello! What's up?"
A chorus of shrill yells from the Masai above startled them. Glancing up, they saw Schoverling and the gun-bearers catching up their weapons, while the natives were leading the cattle away from the wagon, the inspanning having already begun for the march. They saw Gholab Singh catch up the little rifle belonging to von Hofe.
"Jumpin' sandhills!" began Charlie in wonder. "What on earth—"
"Get up here!" roared the General at them. "Boys! Quick!"
Without pausing to inquire further the boys jumped for the camp. A moment later they stood gazing around in amazement, inquiring what was wrong. For answer the explorer pointed to the river below. The boys whirled, then a single cry burst from their lips and they stood astounded, unable to believe their eyes.
"Ach, himmel! Vot a sight!" broke from the doctor.
There, bending down the tough reeds like grass, a mighty herd of buffalo was coming slowly forward, the first two or three just emerging into the clearing. All together, there must have been sixty or seventy of them—but what buffalo they were!