One more halloa! and out came the gallant old fellow Smut from the jungle, on the exact line that the elk had taken.On he came, bounding along the rough side of the hill like a lion, followed by only two dogs--Dan, a pointer (since killed by a leopard), and Cato, a young dog who had never yet seen an elk.The remainder of the pack had taken after a doe that had crossed the scent, and they were now running in a different direction.I now imagined that the elk had gone down the ravine to the lower plains by some run that might exist along the edge of the cliff, and accordingly I started off along a deer-path through the jungle, to arrive at the lower plains by the shortest road that Icould make.
Hardly had I run a hundred yards, when I heard the ringing of the bay and the deep voice of Smut, mingled with the roar of the waterfall, to which I had been running parallel.Instantly changing my course, I was in a few moments on the bank of the river just above the fall.There stood the buck at bay in a large pool about three feet deep, where the dogs could only advance by swimming.Upon my jumping into the pool, he broke his bay, and, dashing through the dogs, he appeared to leap over the verge of the cataract, but in reality he took to a deer-path which skirted the steep side of the wooded precipice.So steep was the inclination that I could only follow on his track by clinging to the stems of the trees.The roar of the waterfall, now only a few feet on my right hand, completely overpowered the voices of the dogs wherever they might be, and I carefully commenced a perilous descent by the side of the fall, knowing that both dogs and elk must be somewhere before me.So stunning was the roar of the water, that a cannon might have been fired without my hearing it.I was now one-third of the way down the fall, which was about fifty feet deep.A large flat rock projected from the side of the cliff, forming a platform of about six feet square, over one corner of which, the water struck, and again bounded downwards.This platform could only be reached by a narrow ledge of rock, beneath which, at a depth of thirty feet, the water boiled at the foot of the fall.
Upon this platform stood the buck, having gained his secure but frightful position by passing along the narrow ledge of rock.Should either dog or man attempt to advance, one charge from the buck would send them to perdition, as they would fall into the abyss below.This the dogs were fully aware of, and they accordingly kept up a continual bay from the edge of the cliff, while I attempted to dislodge him by throwing stones and sticks upon him from above.
Finding this uncomfortable, he made a sudden dash forward, and, striking the dogs over, away he went down the steep sides of the ravine, followed once more by the dogs and myself.
By clinging from tree to tree, and lowering myself by the tangled creepers, I was soon at the foot of the first fall, which plunged into a deep pool on a flat plateau of rock, bounded on either side by a wall-like precipice.
This plateau was about eighty feet in length, through which, the water flowed in two rapid but narrow streams from the foot of the first fall towards a second cataract at the extreme end.This second fall leaped from the centre of the ravine into the lower plain.
When I arrived on this fine level surface of rock, a splendid sight presented itself.In the centre of one of the rapid streams, the buck stood at bay, belly-deep, with the torrent rushing in foam between his legs.His mane was bristled up, his nostrils were distended, and his antlers were lowered to receive the dog who should first attack him.Ihappened to have a spear on that occasion, so that I felt he could not escape, and I gave the baying dogs a loud cheer on.Poor Cato! it was his first elk, and he little knew the danger of a buck at bay in such a strong position.Answering with youthful ardour to my halloa, the young dog sprang boldly at the elk's face, but, caught upon the ready antlers, he was instantly dashed senseless upon the rocks.Now for old Smut, the hero of countless battles, who, though pluck to the back-bone, always tempers his valour with discretion.
Yoick to him, Smut! and I jumped into the water.The buck made a rush forward, but at that moment a mass of yellow hair dangled before his eyes as the true old dog hung upon his cheek.Now came the tug of war--only one seizer! The spring had been so great, and the position of the buck was so secure, that the dog had missed the ear, and only held by the cheek.The elk, in an instant, saw his advantage, and quickly thrusting his sharp brown antlers into the dog's chest, he reared to his full height and attempted to pin the apparently fated Smut against a rock.That had been the last of Smut's days of prowess had I not fortunately had a spear.I could just reach the elk's shoulder in time to save the dog.After a short but violent struggle, the buck yielded up his spirit.He was a noble fellow, and pluck to the last.
Having secured his horns to a bush, lest he should be washed away by the torrent, I examined the dogs.Smut was wounded in two places, but not severely, and Cato had just recovered his senses, but was so bruised as to move with great difficulty.In addition to this, he had a deep wound from the buck's horn under the shoulder.
The great number of elk at the Horton plains and the open character of the country, make the hunting a far more enjoyable sport than it is in Newera Ellia, where the plains are of much smaller extent, and the jungles are frightfully thick.During a trip of two months at the Horton Plains, we killed forty-three elk, exclusive of about ten which the pack ran into and killed by themselves, bringing home the account of their performances in distended stomachs.These occurrences frequently happen when the elk takes away through an impervious country, where a man cannot possibly follow.In such cases the pack is either beaten off, or they pull the elk down and devour it.
