Nobody is afraid of them.
Yet this particular animal charged with all the ferocity and
determination of the lion, and would certainly have killed or badly
mauled my man.[24] To be sure it had been wounded, and had had all night
to think about it.
In the relief from the tension we all burst into shrieks of laughter;
all except the near-victim of the scrimmage, who managed only a sickly
smile. Our mirth was short. Out from a thicket over a hundred yards away
walked one of the men, who had been in no way involved in the fight,
calmly announcing that he had been shot. We were sceptical, but he
turned his back and showed us the bullet hole at the lower edge of the
ribs. One of my bullets, after passing through the cheetah, had
ricocheted and picked this poor fellow out from the whole of an empty
landscape. And this after I had delayed my rescue fairly to the point of
danger in order to avoid all chance of hurting some one!
We had no means of telling how deeply the bullet had penetrated; so we
reassured the man, and detailed two men to assist him back to camp by
easy stages. He did not seem to be suffering much pain, and he had lost
little strength.
At camp, however, we found that the wound was deep. C. generously
offered to make a forced march in order to get the boy out to a
hospital. By hitting directly across the rough country below the benches
it was possible to shorten the journey somewhat, provided V.
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