"But he holds his gun above him.

He reaches the sand; the others crawl up also.
They run! I do not see the bull!" "There are crocodiles!" shrilled a woman, pointing with an arm heavily ringed with brass bangles.
"This is not their fight, mother." "But they will take our meat." "It is the bull I think of." "Will he meet the canoes, or will he face the three on the island?
The white man sees the canoes; he waves them to go back, but they smell meat; they keep on." "What is this?
He points his gun at them.

They stop; they turn back." "A pity," said one of the officers, with a grin.

"We should have seen sport." "But the sport is not over," said the other.

"I back the bull.
Remember how he put you to flight, my friend.