Snatching the long two-ounce rifle from a gun-bearer, I made a lucky shot.

The ball must have passed through his heart, as he fell stone dead.
The three cows remained passive spectators of the death of their mates, although I was convinced by their expression that they would eventually show fight.

I was soon reloaded, and not wishing to act simply on the defensive, and thus run the risk of a simultaneous onset, I fired at the throat of the most vicious of the party.

The two-ounce ball produced no other effect than an immediate charge.

She bounded towards me, and, although bleeding at the mouth, the distance was so short that she would have been into me had I not stopped her with the four-ounce rifle, which brought her to the ground when within fifteen paces; here she lay disabled, but not dead, and again I reloaded as fast as possible.
The two remaining cows appeared to have taken a lesson from the fate of their comrades; and showing no disposition to charge, I advanced towards them to within twenty yards.