The cry of "_faru_" is a good deal like "car coming" at an automobile race.

Instantly everybody is all attention, with the attention equally divided between the rhino and the nearest tree.

If there is no tree the interest in the rhino becomes more acute.
The thought of being impaled _en brochette_ on the horn of a rhino is one of the least attractive forms of mental exertion that I know of.

It is a close second to the thought of being stepped on by a herd of elephants marching single file.
Well, we survived the charge of the heavy brigade, and then moved onward, ever and anon casting an alert glance at the deep clumps of thicket along the way.

Fortunately no more rhinos appeared and the next thing we struck was Thanksgiving Day.
The proper way to celebrate that deservedly popular holiday is not by sitting in tall grass with a can of beans and a bottle of pickles in the foreground.