He knew that it was of no use to fire at
the head of the advancing foe, as the thickness of the skull, together
with the matted hair on the forehead, rendered it impervious to a
bullet.
When the bull was within a yard of him he leaped lightly to one side
and it passed. Just as it did so, Dick aimed at its heart and fired,
but his knowledge of the creature's anatomy was not yet correct. The
ball entered the shoulder too high, and the bull, checking himself as
well as he could in his headlong rush, turned round and made at Dick
again.
The failure, coupled with the excitement, proved too much for Dick; he
could not resist discharging his second barrel at the brute's head as
it came on. He might as well have fired at a brick wall. It shook its
shaggy front, and with a hideous bellow thundered forward. Again Dick
sprang to one side, but in doing so a tuft of grass or a stone caught
his foot, and he fell heavily to the ground.
Up to this point Crusoe's admirable training had nailed him to the
spot where he had been left, although the twitching of every fibre in
his body and a low continuous whine showed how gladly he would have
hailed permission to join in the combat; but the instant he saw his
master down, and the buffalo turning to charge again, he sprang
forward with a roar that would have done credit to his bovine enemy,
and seized him by the nose.
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