An Outback Marriage

Close Up, true to his name, made a dash at the nearest buffalo,

and got close enough in all conscience; but what with the jerking

to and fro of the gallop, and the rolling gait and sudden swerves

of the buffalo, and the occasional blunderings of the horse in

broken ground, Hugh never seemed to have the carbine pointed right.

Close Up, finding it did not go off when he expected, began to

slacken pace and gallop in an undecided way. It sounds easy enough

to gallop up to an animal which you can beat for pace, but anyone

who has ever tried to lay a whip on the back of a bullock knows it

is not so easy as it looks to get more than one or two clips home.

Hugh found the buffalo holding its own for pace, and every time he

drew up it dodged before he could make sure of hitting the loin.

Cover seemed to be getting very near. At last he leaned out as far

as he could, held the rifle in one hand, and took a "speculator"

at the flying buffalo. He hit it somewhere, but hadn't time to see

where; for, with a snort like a grampus, the beast wheeled in its

tracks and charged so suddenly that old Close Up only just dodged

it by a yard or two. It rushed him for a couple of hundred yards,

and then stopped. Hugh managed to eject the cartridge and load,

and then cantered after the animal, which had started again at a

sullen trot, with the blood pouring from its flank. As he galloped

up to administer the "coup de grace," meaning to make no mistake

about hitting the loin this time, the buffalo suddenly wheeled and

charged him again, and Close Up executed another hurried retreat.

For a while they took it up and down--first buffalo hunting man,

then man hunting buffalo--while Hugh fired whenever he had the

chance, without seeming to discompose the brute at all. At last

a lucky shot struck some vital spot inside; the beast stopped,

staggered, and fell dead without a sound. Hugh looked round. He

was alone; his mate was just visible far away over the plain, still

following at full speed a blue mound that struggled doggedly on

towards the timber. The grey horse drew up to his quarry, the man

leant forward, there was a sudden spurt of white smoke, and the

animal fell as if struck by lightning. It was very pretty to watch,

and looked as simple as shelling peas. The shooter rode over to

Hugh, and congratulated him on his first kill.