To Jack’s horror he saw his brother’s eyes close, and that he fell forward upon his horse’s neck; the next moment he had glided as it were out of his saddle, and fallen—his horse, from its good training, stopping short by his side.
The buffaloes were only about thirty yards behind, and as Jack reined in, and turned to help his brother, the bulls lowered, their horns, and in another moment or two they would have been trampled and gored, perhaps killed; but just as the great shaggy animals were upon them, the dogs made their attack, Pompey, Caesar, and Crassus each seizing a bull by the lip, while Rough’un kept up a furious barking as he tore at the various animals’ heels.
The effect was magical upon the buffaloes, which tossed their heads furiously in the air, and dislodging their assailants, turned and rushed off, with the dogs now biting their heels or leaping viciously at their flanks, all attack now being changed to flight.
Chapter Thirteen.
“Oomph! Oomph! Oomph!”
“Are you much hurt, Dick?” cried Jack anxiously, as he knelt on one knee by his brother.
“No, I think not,” panted Dick, opening his eyes. “I came over all giddy, and couldn’t sit my horse. Did he throw me?”
“No: you fell.”