“Very well, then; but where shall we go? Which way shall we turn? Shall we try for that wood in front?”
“No, no, no,” cried Dick. “We should not be able to get through, but that beast would go past bushes as if they were paper. That’s a thorn wood, too.”
“Where’s father, I wonder?” cried Jack.
Dick looked over his shoulder.
“There he comes, full gallop. He sees what a mess we are in.”
“But he can’t help us,” cried Jack. “Sit close, Dick, old fellow; and look out for holes in front, whatever you do.”
Away they went in their mad gallop, longing for the rhinoceros to give up his hunt of the hunters, but the huge beast came thundering along in the most persistent way, close at their heels, but now, to the delight of the boys, not gaining upon them. The only thing they had to fear then was a slip or a stumble, or that in its pertinacious hunt the rhinoceros would tire their horses down.
“He’s gaining on us now,” cried Dick suddenly. “Jack, we must separate, and let him run after one while the other fires at him.”
“You couldn’t do it, Dick. No, no, let’s keep together, and we shall beat him yet.”
“But we mustn’t take him down to the camp. Oh, thank goodness, at last.”