Joe heard just in time to step quickly to one side, his eyes wide with an awful fear.
Bang! Bang! Two reports rent the air, and each bullet found its mark. Mr. Holton and Bob stood with smoking rifles awaiting results. They made ready to fire more if necessary.
But the four cartridges proved more than the brute could stand. Suddenly it collapsed in a heap, almost at the feet of one of the natives.
“Whew!” gasped Joe, wiping the perspiration from his forehead. “That was what I’d call a close call.”
“Close is right,” added Mr. Lewis. “If Bob and Howard hadn’t come across with those two shots—well, it’s pretty hard to say just what would have happened.”
“How did it happen he didn’t fall when you hit him, Mr. Lewis?” asked Bob. “Both of your bullets went to a vital spot.”
“What a buffalo can’t stand is hard to mention,” Joe’s father responded. “In addition to having a tough hide, they can take almost any kind of punishment.”
The blacks looked at the hunters with intense admiration, for they had accomplished a deed that had not been thought possible by natives in that vicinity.