I hesitated about going near him; but curiosity grew strong within me, as I watched his queer manœuvres; until at length I walked up within a dozen yards of where he was kneeling.
Fancy my surprise on discovering the cause of his oblique movements. No hurt had he received of any kind—not even a scratch; but for all that, he was as completely crippled as if he had lost his best pair of legs.
In a very singular manner was he rendered thus helpless. In his struggle with the other bull, one of his fore-legs had, somehow or other, got passed over his horn; and there it stuck—not only depriving him of the use of the limb itself, but holding his head so close to the ground that he was quite unable to stir from the spot!
At first I designed helping him out of his difficulty, and letting him go. On second thoughts, I remembered the story of the husband-man and the frozen snake, which quite changed my intention.
I next thought of killing him for venison; but having no bullet, I did not like to beat him to death with my gun. Besides the aard-vark was my load to camp, and I knew that the jackals would eat the bull up before we could go back for him. I thought it probable he would be safer left as he was—as these ravenous brutes, seeing him alive, might not so readily approach him.
So I left him with his “head under his arm,” in hopes that we may find him there to-morrow.
So ended Hans's narrative of his day's adventures.