“Now,” said I to the king as the herd rapidly approached within range, “I will show you what the fire weapon is capable of doing. Watch the old bull who is leading the herd and see what happens. And perhaps you had better dismount, for your horse is unused to fire weapons, and when I shoot he may possibly swerve suddenly and throw you.”
“Nay,” answered the king, “I will not dismount; for now that you have warned me I shall know what to expect, and shall not be taken unawares.” And he gathered in the slack of his single bridle, tightly gripped the animal between his knees, and sat prepared for whatsoever might happen.
The herd, meanwhile, had approached to within about eight hundred yards of us, and were thundering straight in our direction at a somewhat ungainly but nevertheless rapid gallop, with heads down and tails up, giving vent to low, angry bellows as they came. I was riding Prince, upon whom I knew I could absolutely depend; therefore, instead of dismounting, I turned him to the right with a touch of my heel and a slight pressure of the rein, very nearly broadside-on to the approaching herd, and flung the rifle up to my shoulder. It was a rather long shot, and at eight hundred yards even a buffalo, coming head on, presents but a comparatively small target, especially when the grass happens to be breast-high; nevertheless I got the sights to bear dead upon the centre of the bull’s forehead, about halfway between the horns and the eyes, and, watching for the proper moment, pressed the trigger. The flash and report of the piece were immediately followed by sounds of fierce stamping and plunging close at hand, and out of the corner of my eye I saw that the king’s high-mettled stallion was fighting hard to break away and make a bolt for it; then, just as the bull stumbled, recovered himself, and finally turned a complete somersault, I heard the loud thud of the bullet on the thick skull, and knew that my shot had got home.
“W-a-a-u!” ejaculated the king, giving vent to a long-drawn expression of amazement; “yena chiele (he is hit)! The fire weapon is indeed ’mkulu ’mtagati (great magic)! The beast fell dead as though smitten by lightning. Can you do that again, white man, or was it merely chance?”
“You shall see,” said I, as I rammed a wad down upon a fresh powder charge and slipped a bullet in after it. As I set the trigger to half-cock I saw that the powder was well up in the nipple; therefore, slipping on a cap and setting the trigger to full-cock, I again levelled the piece and bowled over the leading buffalo.
“It is enough!” exclaimed the king soberly. “No wonder that you conquered the tribes who rose against you if you were all armed like that! Now, children,” he continued, throwing up his hand as he addressed his little body of immediate followers, “show the white man how the Basuto kills buffalo!”
The herd had originally numbered eleven, nine of which were still upon their feet, and, with the vindictive fearlessness which is the chief characteristic of the Cape buffalo, charging straight down upon our party; at a word, therefore, from the induna who was in command of the contingent, nine of the warriors flung away their shields and casting assagais, and, gripping the single bangwan, or stabbing assagai, with which each of them was also armed, drove their heels into their horses’ flanks and dashed forward to meet the bellowing foe. To see those nine men fearlessly charge the rushing herd was a distinctly thrilling sight; for none knew better than they the implacably savage nature of the brutes they were about to contend with, or the deadliness of the peril to which they were so light-heartedly exposing themselves. Yet not one of them manifested the slightest disposition to shirk the encounter: possibly they all knew that to perish upon the horns of a buffalo would be preferable to the punishment that surely awaited them should they disgrace themselves and their king by showing fear in the presence of a white man. But if the riders scorned to exhibit fear, the horses were animated by no such scruples, for when they had approached to within about two hundred feet of the charging buffalo, the low, fierce, grunting bellows, the blazing eyes, and the sharp, threatening horns of the latter seemed to strike such panic into them that suddenly, as though by concerted arrangement, they wheeled sharply round, and, despite their riders’ utmost efforts, bolted ignominiously in all directions.
I had by this time succeeded in recharging my rifle, and, slipping on a fresh cap, I raised the piece to my shoulder and held myself ready to shoot upon the instant that I dared do so without the risk of hitting a Basuto, for a tragedy seemed imminent. But Moshesh, who was now with difficulty restraining his own mount from bolting, stopped me.
“Wait, white man, and watch!” he enjoined me; and as the words passed his lips I saw the nine warriors throw themselves very cleverly from the backs of their bolting horses, wheel round as upon a pivot, and dash back until they were immediately in the path of the furious buffalo, which seemed now to have marked down as their destined victims the little body of men of whom the king and I formed a part. In the twinkling of an eye each warrior had selected one buffalo in particular as his own especial foe, and had planted himself with uplifted bangwan square in the brute’s path, while the buffalo, promptly accepting the challenge, responded to it with fierce bellows and savage flourishings of the terrible horns. Three breathless seconds later the leading buffalo, with head lowered and slightly turned to allow of a more effective thrust of the sharp, upturned point of its murderous horn, was upon his antagonist, and I caught my breath sharply, fully expecting to see the man impaled, or at least tossed high in the air. But instead I beheld as splendid an exhibition of courage and alertness as I think I have ever witnessed, for the man, firmly standing his ground to the very last fraction of a second, sprang nimbly to one side at the precise moment when, as it seemed, the point of the horn was about to be dashed into his naked body, and then, as the great beast thundered past within reach of his hand, down flashed the formidable, broad-bladed bangwan, with so sure and strong a stroke that the buffalo crashed headlong to the ground dead, with its fierce heart cleft in twain.
And in like manner perished seven of its companions, the ninth buffalo wreaking its revenge for the death of the other eight in a peculiarly ghastly manner. Precisely how the tragedy happened none of us knew, for it chanced that our attention was concentrated elsewhere at the moment; but a sharp, shrill scream of mortal agony sounding out on the hot air apprised us that something untoward was happening. Glancing quickly in the direction from which the sound proceeded, I was horrified to see that one unfortunate warrior had somehow failed to avoid a buffalo’s charge, and was now writhing transfixed on one of the horns of the great brute, which the next instant flung the poor fellow high in the air, and then, with a savage bellow, swerved and came thundering straight toward the king and myself, where we sat on our horses close together watching the exciting scene that was being enacted before us. A startled cry from the induna commanding the squad which was at that moment in special charge of the king’s person caused the eleven men who had until now sat quiescent upon their horses to fling themselves hastily to the ground and dash forward to protect their monarch. But there was no time for this; the buffalo was within a dozen yards of us, and I could see that he had singled out Moshesh as the particular object of his attack, attracted, no doubt, by His Majesty’s scarlet tunic. The king might of course have escaped by promptly wheeling his horse and galloping away; but his pride and self-esteem would have suffered a mortal wound had he been driven to flight in the presence of a white man, although there was a certain quality in his hurried glances to right and left that seemed to tell me that he meditated something of the sort, rather than stand his ground and take his chance. Fortunately I had reloaded my rifle a minute or two earlier, and now I saw my opportunity to render the king an important service by sparing him the ignominy of flight: I therefore flung up my piece and pressed the trigger, and the buffalo—an enormous and most formidable brute—stumbled and fell dead literally at our horses’ feet.