As soon as they arrived there, they beheld a scene on the other side of the river, about one hundred yards from them, which filled them with anxiety and terror; the Major’s horse was galloping away, and the Major not to be seen.  Under a large tree, Swanevelt was in a sitting posture, holding his hands to his body as if severely wounded, his horse lying by his side, and right before him an enormous bull buffalo, standing motionless; the blood was streaming from the animal’s nostrils, and it was evidently tottering from weakness and loss of blood; at last it fell.

“I fear there is mischief done,” cried Swinton; “where can the Major be, and the two Hottentots who were with him!  Swanevelt is hurt and his horse killed, that is evident.  We had better call them off, and let the buffaloes remain quiet, or escape as they please.”

“There is the Major,” said Alexander, “and the Hottentots too; they are not hurt, don’t you see them?—­they were up the trees; thank God.”

They now observed the Major run up to Swanevelt, and presently the two Hottentots went in pursuit of the Major’s horse.  Shortly afterward, Swanevelt, with the assistance of the Major, got upon his legs, and, taking up his gun, walked slowly away.

“No great harm done, after all,” said Alexander; “God be praised:  but here come the whole herd, Swinton.”

“Let them go, my good fellow,” replied Swinton, “we have had enough of buffalo-hunting for the present.”

The whole herd had now broken from the reeds about fifty paces from where they were stationed, and with their tails raised, tossing with their horns, and bellowing with rage and fear, darted out of the reeds, dripping with slime and mud, and rushed off toward the forest.  In a few seconds they were out of sight.

“A good riddance,” said Swinton; “I hope the Major is now satisfied with buffalo-hunting.”

“I am, at all events,” replied Alexander.  “I feel very sore and stiff.  What a narrow escape that Bushman had.”

“Yes, he had indeed; but, Alexander, your horse is not well:  he can hardly breathe.  You had better dismount.”

Alexander did so, and unloosed his girths.  Bremen got off his horse, and, offering it to Alexander, took the bridle of the other and examined him.

“He has his ribs broken, sir,” said the Hottentot,—­“two of them, if not more.”

“No wonder, poor fellow; lead him gently, Bremen.  Oh, here comes the Major.  Now we shall know what has occurred; and there is Swanevelt and the two men.”

“Well, Major, pray tell us your adventures, for you have frightened us dreadfully.”

“Not half so much as I have been frightened myself,” replied the Major; “we have all had a narrow escape.  I can assure you, and Swanevelt’s horse is dead.”

“Is Swanevelt hurt?”

“No, he was most miraculously preserved; the horn of the buffalo has grazed the whole length of the body, and yet not injured him.  But let us go to the caravan and have something to drink, and then I will tell you all about it—­I am quite done up, and my tongue cleaves to the roof of my mouth.”