one upon the other, while each strives to get a grip with the point of its horns
upon the neck, or cheeks, or face of its opponent. A buffalo's horn is not sharp,
but the weight of the animal is enormous, and you must remember that the horns
are driven with the whole of the brute's bulk for lever and sledge-hammer. Such
force as is exerted, would be almost sufficient to push a crowbar through a stone
wall, and, tough though they are, the hardest of old bull buffaloes is not proof
against the terrible pressure brought to bear. The bulls show wonderful activity
and skill in these fencing matches. Each beast gives way the instant that it is
warned by the touch of the horn-tip that its opponent has found an opening, and
woe betide the bull that puts its weight into a stab which the other has time to
elude. In the flick of an eye,—as the Malay phrase has it,—advantage is taken of
the blunder, and, before the bull has time to recover its lost balance, its opponent
has found an opening, and has wedged its horn-point into the neck or cheek.
When at last a firm grip has been won, and the horn has been driven into the
yielding flesh, as far as the struggles of its opponent render possible, the stabber
makes his great effort. Pulling his hind legs well under him, and straightening
his fore-legs to the utmost extent, till the skin is drawn taut over the projecting
bosses of bone at the shoulders, and the knots of muscle stand out like cordage
on a crate, he lifts his opponent. His head is skewed on one side, so that the horn
on which his adversary is hooked, is raised to the highest level possible, and his
massive neck strains and quivers with the tremendous effort. If the stab is
sufficiently low down, say in the neck, or under the cheek-bone, the wounded
bull is often lifted clean off his fore-feet, and hangs there helpless and
motionless 'while a man might count a score.' The exertion of lifting, however, is
too great to admit of its being continued for any length of time, and as soon as
the wounded buffalo regains its power of motion,—that is to say, as soon as its
fore-feet are again on the ground,—it speedily releases itself from its adversary's
horn. Then, since the latter is often spent, by the extraordinary effort which has
been made, it frequently happens that it is stabbed, and lifted in its turn, before
balance has been completely recovered.
Once, and only once, have I seen a bull succeed in throwing his opponent, after
he had lifted it off its feet. The vanquished bull turned over on its back, before it
succeeded in regaining its feet, but the victor was itself too used up, to more than
make a ghost of a stab at the exposed stomach of its adversary. This throw is still
spoken of in Pahang as the most marvellous example of skill and strength, which
has ever been called forth, within living memory, by any of these contests.
As the stabs follow one another, to the sound of the clicking of the horns, and the