“Come,” said Berselius, “the brute is evidently thinking. They stay like that for an hour sometimes. If we have any luck, we may get a shot sideways before he moves. There’s not a breath of wind.”
They started, Félix following with the guns.
“I would not bother about him,” said Berselius, “only the meat will be useful, and it will be an experience for you. You will take first shot, and, if he charges, aim just behind the shoulder—that’s the spot for a rhino if you can reach it; for other animals aim at the neck, no matter what animal it is, or whether it is a lion or a buck; the neck shot is the knock-out blow. I have seen a lion shot through the heart travel fifty yards and kill a man; had he been struck in the neck he would have fallen in his tracks.”
“Cow,” said Félix from behind.
Out of the thick stuff on the edge of the forest another form had broken. She was scarcely smaller than the bull, but the horns were shorter; she was paler in colour, too, and showed up not nearly so well. Then she vanished into the thick stuff, but the bull remained standing, immovable as though he were made of cast iron, and the two awful horns, now more distinct, cut the background like scimitars.
The rhinoceros, like the aboriginal native of the Congo, has come straight down from pre-Adamite days almost without change. He is half blind now; he can scarcely see twenty yards, he is still moving in the night of the ancient world, and the smell of a man excites the wildest apprehension in his vestige of a mind. He scents you, flings his heavy head from side to side, and then to all appearances he charges you.
Nothing could appear more wicked, ferocious, and full of deadly intent than this charge; yet, in reality, the unfortunate brute is not seeking you at all, but running away from you; for the rhino when running away always runs in the direction from which the wind is blowing. You are in that direction, else your scent could not reach him; as your scent grows stronger and stronger, the more alarmed does he become and the quicker he runs. Now he sights you, or you fire. If you miss, God help you, for he charges the flash with all his fright suddenly changed to fury.
They had got within four hundred yards from the brute when a faint puff of wind stirred the grass, and instantly the rhino shifted his position.
“He’s got our scent,” said Berselius, taking the cordite rifle from Félix, who handed his gun also to Adams. “He’s got it strong. We will wait for him here.”
The rhino, after a few uneasy movements, began to “run about.” One could see that the brute was ill at ease; he went in a half-circle, and then, the wind increasing, and bringing the scent strong, he headed straight for Berselius and his companions, and charged.