"My people," grunted Bukta, not
condescending to notice them. "And so your people, Sahib. When I
was a young man we were fewer, but not so weak. Now we are many,
but poor stock. As may be remembered. How will you shoot him,
Sahib? From a tree; from a shelter which my people shall build;
by day or by night?"
"On foot and in the daytime," said young Chinn.
"That was your custom, as I have heard," said Bukta to himself "I
will get news of him. Then you and I will go to him. I will
carry one gun. You have yours. There is no need of more. What
tiger shall stand against thee?"
He was marked down by a little water-hole at the head of a ravine,
full-gorged and half asleep in the May sunlight. He was walked up
like a partridge, and he turned to do battle for his life. Bukta
made no motion to raise his rifle, but kept his eyes on Chinn, who
met the shattering roar of the charge with a single shot - it
seemed to him hours as he sighted - which tore through the throat,
smashing the backbone below the neck and between the shoulders.
The brute couched, choked, and fell, and before Chinn knew well
what had happened Bukta bade him stay still while he paced the
distance between his feet and the ringing jaws.
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