All our guns opened fire wildly upon the mass; it was like a battle and through the smoke I caught sight of the riverside natives who were acting as beaters, advancing far away, fantastically dressed, screaming with excitement and waving spears, or sometimes torches of flaming reeds.  Most of these were scrambling along the banks, but some of the bolder spirits advanced over the lagoon in canoes, driving the hippopotami towards the mouth of the channel by which alone they could escape into the great swamps below and so on to the river.  In all my hunting experience I do not think I ever saw a more remarkable scene.  Still, in a way, to me it was unpleasant, for I flatter myself that I am a sportsman and a battle of this sort is not sport as I understand the term.

At length it came to this; the channel for quite a long way was literally full of hippopotami—­I should think there must have been a hundred of them or more of all sorts and sizes, from great bulls down to little calves.  Some of these were killed, not many, for the shooting of our gallant company was execrable and almost at hazard.  Also for every sea-cow that died, of which number I think that Captain Robertson and myself accounted for most—­many were only wounded.

Still, the unhappy beasts, crazed with noise and fire and blood, did not seem to dare to face our frail barricade, probably for the reason that I have given.  For a while they remained massed together in the water, or under it, making a most horrible noise.  Then of a sudden they seemed to take a resolution.  A few of them broke back towards the burning reeds, the screaming beaters and the advancing canoes.  One of these, indeed, a wounded bull, charged a canoe, crushed it in its huge jaws and killed the rower, how exactly I do not know, for his body was never found.  The majority of them, however, took another counsel, for emerging from the water on either side, they began to scramble towards us along the steep banks, or even to climb up them with surprising agility.  It was at this point in the proceedings that I congratulated myself earnestly upon the solid character of the water-worn rock which I had selected as a shelter.

Behind this rock together with my gun-bearer and Umslopogaas, who, as he did not shoot, had elected to be my companion, I crouched and banged away at the unwieldy creatures as they advanced.  But fire fast as I might with two rifles, I could not stop the half of them—­they were drawing unpleasantly near.  I glanced at Umslopogaas and even then was amused to see that probably for the first time in his life that redoubtable warrior was in a genuine fright.

“This is madness, Macumazahn,” he shouted above the din.  “Are we to stop here and be stamped flat by a horde of water-pigs?”

“It seems so,” I answered, “unless you prefer to be stamped flat outside—­or eaten,” I added, pointing to a great crocodile that had also emerged from the channel and was coming along towards us with open jaws.