The surface of the plain was level enough, but frightfully bad
going; the sun had baked the black soil till great gaping cracks,
a couple of feet wide and ten feet deep, were opened in the ground. The
buffaloes had wallowed in the wet season and made round well-like
holes that were now hard, dry pitfalls. Here and there a treacherous,
slimy watercourse wound its slinking way along, making a bog in
which a horse would sink to his shoulders; and over all these traps
and pitfalls the long waving jungle-grass drew a veil. Every now
and then belts of small bamboo were crossed, into which the horses
dashed blindly, forcing their way through by their weight. When
they started the buffaloes had a lead of a quarter of a mile, and
judging by their slogging, laboured gallop, it looked as though
the horses would run into them in half a mile; but on that ground
the buffaloes could go nearly as fast as the horses, and it was
only after a mile and a quarter of hard riding that they closed
in on the mob, which at once split into several detachments. A
magnificent old bull, whose horns measured ten feet from tip
to tip, dashed away to the right with six or seven cows lumbering
after him. Hugh and one of the shooters followed this lot. Another
mob went away to the left, pursued by the other shooter and Considine;
while one old cow, having had enough running, suddenly wheeled in
her tracks, and charged straight at Tommy Prince, whose horse at
once whipped round and carried his rider, with the old cow at his
tail, into a clump of bamboos.
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