Then the rifle exploded and I heard the bullet strike. By the light of
the flash I saw the great arm tumble down in a dead, helpless kind of
way, and next instant the whole forest began to echo with peal upon
peal of those awful roarings that I have described, each of which
ended with a dog-like /yowp/ of pain.
"You have hit him, Baas," said Hans, "and he isn't a ghost, for he
doesn't like it. But he's still very lively."
"Close up," I answered, "and hold out the spears while I reload."
My fear was that the brute would rush on us. But it did not. For all
that dreadful night we saw or heard it no more. Indeed, I began to
hope that after all the bullet had reached some mortal part and that
the great ape was dead.
At length, it seemed to be weeks afterwards, the dawn broke and
revealed us sitting white and shivering in the grey mist; that is, all
except Stephen, who had gone comfortably to sleep with his head
resting on Mavovo's shoulder. He is a man so equably minded and so
devoid of nerves, that I feel sure he will be one of the last to be
disturbed by the trump of the archangel.
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