Away he went. He was close to the very heels of the beasts, but his horse could do no more than his present pace; still he gained upon the nearest. He leaned forward with his sword raised for the blow. Another moment and the jungle would be reached! One effort more, and the sword flashed in the sunshine, as the rear-most rhinoceros disappeared in the thick screen of thorns, with a gash about a foot long upon his hind-quarters. Taher Sherrif shook his bloody sword in triumph above his head, but the rhinoceros was gone. We were fairly beaten, regularly outpaced; but I believe another two hundred yards would have given us the victory. “Bravo, Taher!” I shouted. He had ridden splendidly, and his blow had been marvellously delivered at an extremely long reach, as he was nearly out of his saddle when he sprang forward to enable the blade to obtain a cut at the last moment. He could not reach the hamstring, as his horse could not gain the proper position.
We all immediately dismounted. The horses were thoroughly done, and I at once loosened the girths and contemplated my steed Tetel, who, with head lowered and legs wide apart, was a tolerable example of the effects of pace. The other aggageers shortly arrived, and as the rival Abou Do joined us, Taher Sherrif quietly wiped the blood off his sword without making a remark. This was a bitter moment for the discomfited Abou Do.