They struck into a game-path leading through thick scrub, and five minutes from the start there was a sullen snort, a tremendous crashing in the woods, as if, at least, a herd of elephant were stampeding.

Mr.Hume dashed down the game- path, and before the boys could see what manner of beast it was, he had fired and bowled it over with a bullet behind the ear.
"A bit of luck," he said, as they reached him.
"What is it ?" asked Venning, glancing around with bright eyes.
"A buffalo, over there." The two boys saw a dark form on the ground, half hidden by a bush, and were running forward.
"Quietly," said the hunter.

"Always approach dangerous game cautiously when they are down--especially buffalo;" and with his finger on the trigger he went up slow-footed.
But the buffalo was stone-dead--a great bull with an immense boss between the bend of his sharp horns.
"It's the luck of hunting," said Mr.Hume, as the boys walked round the great beast.

"Some days you never get a shot, and other times you find game at your back door, so to speak.

One of you boys will stay with Muata to skin and cut up.