As for the baby, rocked by the heave and fall of the pony's
withers, it had fallen asleep placidly in the very midst of this terror!
After a second, I asked once more, with bated breath, "Is he gaining?"
She looked back. "Yes; gaining."
A pause. "And now?"
"Still gaining. He is poising an assegai."
Ten seconds more passed in breathless suspense. The thud of their
horses' hoofs alone told me their nearness. My finger was on the
trigger. I awaited the word. "Fire!" she said at last, in a calm,
unflinching voice. "He is well within distance."
I turned half round and levelled as true as I could at the advancing
black man. He rode, nearly naked, showing all his teeth and brandishing
his assegai; the long white feathers stuck upright in his hair gave
him a wild and terrifying barbaric aspect. It was difficult to preserve
one's balance, keep the way on, and shoot, all at the same time; but,
spurred by necessity, I somehow did it. I fired three shots in quick
succession. My first bullet missed; my second knocked the man over; my
third grazed the horse. With a ringing shriek, the Matabele fell in
the road, a black writhing mass; his horse, terrified, dashed back with
maddened snorts into the midst of the others.
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