Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 322: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

WITHIN AN INCH OF HIS LIFE. His position was still bad, but Hart- ridge dared not await the shock of the bull’s charge, and hastily sighting along his rifle he fired. So near was the creature that he heard the thud of the ball as it struck its hide, but at the instant of his shot the elephant swerved to one side and the ball struck much higher up on the bull’s body than he had intended. In fact, as he afterward discovered, the ball had passed through the hump just above the buffalo’s fore shoulders. The recoil of the weapon, together with the sudden movement of the ele- phant, which had seemingly caught some of its driver’s fear of the charg- ing buffalo, cost Hartridge his seat on the pad, and ere he could recover himself he slid off the elephant’s back, landing on the side farthest from the “old rogue.” The elephant passed by him, barely keeping from stepping upon his body, and after him came the savage buf- falo. Enraged as he had been by the sight of the hunters, the beast, stung by the slight wound, was now furious. His eyes blazed, the froth flew from his mouth and he was indeed a terrible sight to the prostrate man. For an instant Hartridge hoped that he had been unnoticed, but this hope was futile. The charging beast passed him indeed, but his wicked eyes saw the man lying in the grass, and turn- ing about with a celerity surprising in so huge a beast, he bore down upon the defenseless hunter. Not waiting for the creature’s ar- rival, nor striving to run from him, Hartridge quickly rolled over upon his face and feigned death. The buffalo, seemingly surprised at thts circumstance, hesitated a moment, as though undecided what course to pursue. As the man continued to re- main motionless, he endeavored to push his nose under him, so as to toss him on his horns. But before he could accomplish this 313 design, or could trample upon his fallen foe, he was interrupted. There was a crashing in the bushes on the opposite side of the glade and the clear voice of Eugene Carruthers, the youngest of his companions, reached Hartridge’s ear. “Lie perfectly still, captain,” ex- claamed the young man, and almost simultaneous with his words came the report of a heavy rifle. The ball plowed its way through the animal’s thick hide and flesh and sought a vital spot. Roaring with rage and pain the bull backed away from his prostrate victim and after an in- stant fell to the earth, unable to rise again. Carruthers ran hastily across the open and assisted Hartridge to rise with as much nonchalance as though the occurrence had been of the most trivial kind. The track Carruthers and his com- panions had followed on their way to the village had taken them near to the spring at which Hartridge had come upon the buffalo bull, and having wan- dered some yards beyond his uncle and brother, Eugene had happened upon the scene just in the nick of time. It was indeed an honor for an inex- perienced youth to have brought down such a formidable beast as the olc bull, but young Carruthers bore his laurels very modestly and seemed surprised that his friends should make so much of the shot. “The boy was a born hunter,” said Paul Hartridge, upon telling the story to me, “and although I saw him in several trying situations afterward, I never saw him flinch. As for myself, however, I considered that I was never so near losing my life as when [ lay in that African glade, with the old bull nosing me over. The experience is one which I hope I may never repeat, and since that time I have never tried shooting buffaloes from the back of lephant.”’ an elepnan eon ElOOO CO