I pulled, but either the cap or the powder had got a little damp on the journey and hung fire for the fraction of a second.

In that infinitesimal time the devil--it is the best name I can give the thing--saw me, or perhaps it only saw the light gleaming on the barrel.
At any rate it dropped the Kalubi, and as though some intelligence warned it what to expect, threw up its massive right arm--I remember how extraordinarily long the limb seemed and that it looked thick as a man's thigh--in such a fashion as to cover its head.
Then the rifle exploded and I heard the bullet strike.

By the light of the flash I saw the great arm tumble down in a dead, helpless kind of way, and next instant the whole forest began to echo with peal upon peal of those awful roarings that I have described, each of which ended with a dog-like _yowp_ of pain.
"You have hit him, Baas," said Hans, "and he isn't a ghost, for he doesn't like it.

But he's still very lively." "Close up," I answered, "and hold out the spears while I reload." My fear was that the brute would rush on us.

But it did not.