In one of the kloofs near the Fish River, an old buffalo bull had taken
up his quarters, and, like all solitary males, he was suspicious and
savage.
"And I don't wonder at it," said Abe Pike, when discussing the bull's
points. "Trouble sours the best of us, and he's had his share of
trouble--what with his struggles as a youngster to get a footing in the
herd, and his struggles, when he became leader, to guard his position
against enemies without in the shape of tigers and hunters, an' against
enemies within in the shape of younger bulls, not to speak of the
jealousy of his wives; and then on top of all this, the trouble of being
driven from the family when his powers were failing, maybe by a own son
of his. Yes, sir, that lonely animile, for all he's so savage, an'
a'most knocked the life outer me, has my sympathy in his proud old age.
Proud he is, you believe me. He might a stayed with the herd ef so be
he choose to behave himself and foller with the calves, but once a king
always a king. Ef he can't rule in the herd, he'll rule all alone in
that kloof--nursing his pride and his memories--and going scatter--
dash--on sight for any critters mad enough to enter his domain."
"Did you run against him, Uncle?"
"Well--I'd put it the other way--that he run against me. I tole you
often how he fit and killed my _rooi bonte_ bull, Red Prince, that old
red and white chap with a cross of shorthorn that was so masterful you
couldn't keep him in any kraal if he wanted to move out I've seen him
fix his horns under a heavy pole that took two men to place across the
gate, and jest hoist it as tho' it were a straw, and if he set out to go
into the mealie patch why he'd go in, an' there was an end of it,
bellowing all the time fit to drown the roar of the sea."
"Did the old solitary kill your bull?"
"You know that, sonny, for you saw his body with the rip that went to
his heart. I yeared ole Prince bellow one morning, and, lookin' over
the veld, I saw him away off yonder on the ridge slowly moving, with his
big head swaying from side to side, and as I watched him he would, every
now and again, stop to paw the ground and toss his horns. I thought,
maybe, there was some stray cattle beyond, and I set off after him with
the sjambok. After he topped the ridge I could still hear the rumble of
his challenge, and when I reached the divide there he was down below
raking up the earth with his hoof, but there was no sign of a horn or
hide beside him. I ran down to him, and at the sound of my running he
turned his head, showing the red of his eyes. He blew through his
nostrils at me, and he looked that wicked that I dodged away behind a
big rock, and soon's I peeped out I saw he was looking at the kloof with
his ears pricked forward. So I scanned the edge of the wood, which was
about fifty paces off, and there, poking out of the shadows, was the
head of that buffel, his black muzzle held high, and the sharp curved
tips of his horns showing above the great mass of bone on his forehead.
The foam was dripping from his muzzle. I saw, then, that red crittur of
mine had got the scent of the buffel, and here he had come to do battle
out of the love of a fight. I called to the old fool to come back, but,
with another dig of his hoof and a shake of his head, he went forward
with that slow, steady stride of a crittur that knows no fear. From the
wood there came a menacing growl, and at the hoarse rumble of it the red
bull sunk his crest and let out a beller that went rolling over the
kloof. Then the old solitary stepped out, big and black, with white
scars showing on his shoulders and his head held high and threatenin'.
There the two of them stood face to face with twenty yards between,
their ears twitching and the tails jerking against their sides, Red
Prince looking heavier with a mightier neck, the crest arching like the
neck of a horse, and the dewlap hanging down between his wide knees.
Bigger and stronger he looked than the buffel, but my heart went weak
within me for him when I saw the wild gleam of the buffel eyes, and
dwelt on the pile of rugged bone that spanned his forehead. Slowly they
walked up to each other, muttering deep threats, then their horns
clashed, and their foreheads were pressed closer and closer to the
strain of heaving quarters. A minute they stood so, the breathing
coming heavily, so that the dust below was blown about--then my old red
chap turned the buffalo right round, and with a snort and a sidelong
blow, he ripped a long red streak in the black thigh. The buffel sprang
a step aside, then his tail went up over his back, and he rushed
forward. Right round on his pins as nimble as a yearling the old red
went, and catching the buffel between the forelegs, he heaved him up and
sent him with a thud on to his side. If he had only known, poor old
chap, he would never have let his enemy reach his feet again, but he
curled his nose up and jest stood there watching the black devil gather
himself together. The buffel was up--phew--and then, with a savage
roar, his eyes gleaming like a tiger's, he jest leapt at the big red
body standing there so proud, and the next moment--'twas done so quick--
I saw the blood running from his side. I wept, lad, at the sight.
There stood the buffel, with his muzzle up--and the foam dripping from
it--watching the red bull, whose legs were planted wide apart to steady
himself. While the life was flowing from that terrible wound in his
side the old chap shook his head again. So they stood silent, eyeing
one another, then Prince lurched forward--dead--and the buffel went up
and smelt him, with his back toward me. I had moved round the rock to
watch the fight, and as I stood there tremblin' from the excitement,
that old black devil suddenly whipped round, and with a most hair-rising
roar, came straight at me. The outer curve of his horn caught me on the
shoulder, and sent me spinning till I tripped over a rock, and when he
turned I squeezed tight against the shelter of the stone. Then that ole
brute came and stood by with his nose a few inches off, and his
bloodshot eyes glaring at me, and every minute or so he'd try to chop me
with a hoof, or hook me out with his horns. And three times he trotted
off to smell the red bull--the which times I'd try to squeeze closer to
the rock, and then at the third time he cleared off to the left at a
gallop."