I thought of that challenge of Fuzla's; then turned and struck out like a man,
While the mother leaped after her young one, and all the rest followed the van.
The flood swept me down like a leaf, and the calf swept me farther down still,
But I knew 'twas a life or death struggle, and breasted the stream with a will;
While the hope I could lead the beasts on, till 'twas safer before than behind,
And the fear lest Mian Fuzla should win, were the only two thoughts in my mind.
It was half a yard forward to half a mile downward, yet still I made way,
While behind, in a long single file, the black heads of the buffaloes lay,
Till I knew we had reached the big stream, and that now there was no going back;
Then I gave one faint shout, and I cast off the dead calf, and let myself slack.