I pointed my rifle very carefully, and was about to pull trigger, when the rascal saw me, and instantly he was again in motion. I fired, but without proper aim, and though my bullet struck him in the chest it did not stop him.
He was now scarcely fifteen yards from me, and I almost gave myself up for lost. I was about to pull trigger a second time, when suddenly there darted between me and the charging brute a human form—Umkopo.
The rhino swerved from his course to follow him, and just missed him as he turned, Umkopo dodging like a hare; and, turning again, the beast was in a moment in full pursuit.
Umkopo swerved and dodged, but the rhino, bulky, ponderous, awkward-looking beast as he was, followed his movements with great rapidity, gaining upon him, instead of losing ground at each swerve and turn.
Umkopo's intention was plain: in the first place to deflect the beast's charge when I was in danger, and, that accomplished, to lead him past my ambush in order that I might have the opportunity of a flank shot.
The whole thing occupied but sixty seconds or less. They passed my thorn-bush, Umkopo leading by five yards, and I fired twice at the brute's shoulder as he hurtled by. At the same instant Umkopo tripped and fell. The rhino fell also, apparently right over him, but in an instant Umkopo rose from beneath him, unhurt. The rhino was dead.
Never was a thing better managed; never was a clearer case of the risking of the life of a man to save another's.
'Umkopo, you're a brick,' said I heartily, 'you saved my life, lad, and I'm grateful!' I gave him my hand, and Umkopo took it laughing, though he did not seem to know what to do with it or to understand what I had said.
Soon after this, Umkopo left the camp in anger, as I have told you, and I did not see him again for a year or two. One of these evenings I will tell you about our next meeting, which was at a critical moment of my life.