Great, shaggy fellows, nearly a third larger than those the boys had seen and shot during the first part of the trip, they seemed like some part of a wild dream. It flashed through Charlie's mind that it must have been such buffalo as this that Mowbray had seen, or rather, that had scattered his Arabs.
Slowly the great mass pushed forward, heads upturned. Plainly they had scented the camp, for they were down-wind, and intended to investigate. Both boys realized that they were in grave danger, as this became apparent.
"Think they'll dare to charge us?" murmured Charlie, a little pale.
"Can't tell," returned the explorer, staring. "Great Scott, what animals! No wonder Mowbray's men lit out for safety! If they come on, we're goners."
That they plainly meant to come on was soon evident. The foremost paused to sniff and paw the body of the slain boar, and to gaze up at the waiting men, then those crowding behind shoved them onward. Two or three went on to one side, but the others began the ascent of the little hill without hesitation.
"We'll have to stop them," said Schoverling, his face set. Charlie looked around to find Jack at his elbow, gun ready, black eyes glittering, and cheeks flushed darkly. Behind were grouped the Indian gun-bearers, fully recognizing the danger. The Masai, chattering but with arrow on the string, stood near the wagon.
"Bakari!" called the explorer quickly. At the sound of his voice the giant buffalo halted for a moment, and the boys yelled in hope that they would retire. But the hope proved groundless, as they came forward with slow steps again.
"Bakari, put some of your men up into that tree—keep those bulls away from the wagon and oxen at all costs," ordered the General. The Masai nodded, and a moment later five of his men went up nimbly into the big mimosa, and threaded their way out along the branches until they stood over the heads of the boys. The wagon and oxen were twenty feet behind, and the remaining natives grouped before them.
"All right, boys," said Schoverling quietly. "Don't fire at the head, remember, unless you are sure of the eye. We've got to stop them at once."
Charlie and Jack lifted their guns. The tremendous beasts were a scant fifty yards below, but more were crowding up from the reeds every instant. The four white men spread out at intervals of a few yards, the gun-bearers between. Von Hofe, shotgun in hand, stood on the long wagon-tongue with Gholab Singh.