At the end of a few moments, though, it occurred to Dick that their speed was greater than that of the buffaloes, and consequently that they would have no difficulty, failing accidents, in galloping away. Then he began to think of his rifle and ammunition, but felt that under the circumstances fire-arms were useless.
Last of all he began to feel very much ashamed of his position, in being hunted like this.
The same feeling seemed to have affected Jack, who looked at his brother as they raced on side by side.
The consequence was that all of a sudden they both sat up more erect in their saddles, and took a pull at the reins, bringing Shoes and Stockings by degrees into a hand gallop, instead of the ventre à terre progress they were making before.
“This won’t do,” cried Dick, as he glanced back to find that
the bulls were still lumbering on behind them, snorting savagely, and shaking their horn-armed fronts.
“No,” said Jack, “we are taking them right down on the waggon, and they’ll charge straight over the camp.”
“Yes; let’s turn off to the left,” shouted Dick; and as if by one impulse they wheeled round to the left, and galloped on over the plain. “I tell you what,” he cried, as a happy idea struck him; “let’s wheel round to the right now.”
“What for?” shouted back his brother.