Daybreak is the proper time to be upon the ground for elk-hunting.At this hour they have only just retired to the jungle after their night's wandering on the patinas, and the hounds take up a fresh scent, and save the huntsman the trouble of entering the jungle.At a later hour the elk have retired so far into the jungle that much time is lost in finding them, and they are not so likely to break cover as when they are just on the edge of the forest.I had overslept myself one morning when I ought to have been particularly early, as we intended to hunt at the Matturatta Plains, a distance of six miles.The scent was bad, and the sun was excessively hot; the dogs were tired and languid.It was two o'clock P.M., and we had not found, and we were returning through the forest homewards, having made up our minds for a blank day.
Suddenly I thought I heard a deep voice at a great distance; it might have been fancy, but I listened again.I counted the dogs, and old Smut was missing.There was no mistaking his voice when at bay, and I now heard him distinctly in the distance.Running towards the sound through fine open forests, we soon arrived on the Matturatta Plains.The whole pack now heard the old dog distinctly, and they rushed to the sound across the patinas.There was Smut, sure enough, with a fine buck at bay in the river, which he had found and brought to bay single-handed.
The instant that the pack joined him, the buck broke his bay, and, leaping up the bank, he gave a beautiful run over the patinas, with the whole pack after him, and Bran a hundred paces in advance of the other dogs, pulling up to him with murderous intent.Just as I thought that Bran would have him, a sudden kick threw the dog over, but he quickly recovered himself, and again came to the front, and this time he seized the buck by the ear, but, this giving way, he lost his hold and again was kicked over.This had checked the elk's speed for some seconds, and the other dogs were fast closing up, seeing which, the buck immediately altered his course for the river, and took to water in a deep pool.Down came old Smut after him, and in a few moments there was a beautiful chorus, as the whole pack had him at bay.
The river went through a deep gorge, and I was obliged to sit down and slide for about thirty yards, checking a too rapid descent by holding on to the rank grass.On arriving at the river, I could at first see nothing for the high grass and bushes which grew upon the bank, but the din of the bay was just below me.Sliding through the tangled underwood, I dropped into deep water, and found myself swimming about with the buck and dogs around me.Smut and Bran had him by the ears, and a thrust with the knife finished him.
However great the excitement may be during the actual hunting, there is a degree of monotony in the recital of so many scenes of the same character that may be fatiguing: I shall therefore close the description of these mountain sports with the death of the old hero Smut, and the loss of the best hound, Merriman, both of whom have left a blank in the pack not easily filled.
On October 16, 1852, I started with a very short pack.Lucifer was left in the kennel lame; Lena was at home with her pups; and several other dogs were sick.Smut and Bran were the only two seizers out that day, and, being short-handed, I determined to hunt in the more green country at the foot of Hackgalla mountain.
My brother and I entered the jungle with the dogs, and before we had proceeded a hundred yards we heard a fierce bay, every dog having joined.The bay was not a quarter of a mile distant, and we were puzzled as to the character of the game: whatever it was, it had stood to bay without a run.Returning to the patina, in which position we could distinctly assure ourselves of the direction, we heard the bay broken, and a slow run commenced.The next instant Bran came hobbling out of the jungle covered with blood, which streamed from a frightful gash in his hind-quarters.There was no more doubt remaining as to the game at bay;I it was an enormous boar.
Bran was completely HORS DE COMBAT; and Smut, having lost nearly all his teeth, was of no use singlehanded with such an enemy.We had no seizers to depend upon, and the boar again stood to bay in a thick jungle.
I happened to have a rifle with me that morning, as I had noticed fresh elephant-tracks in the neighbourhood a few days previous, and hoping to be able to shoot the boar, we entered the jungle and approached the scene of the bay.
When within twenty paces of the spot I heard his fierce grunting as he charged right and left into the baying pack. (It was impossible to call the hounds off their game; therefore the only chance lay in the boar being seized, when I could have immediately rushed in with the knife.It was thus necessary to cheer the pack to the attack, although a cruel alternative.) In vain I cheered them on.I heard no signs of his being seized, but the fierce barking of old Smut, mingled with the savage grunts of the boar, and the occasional cry of a wounded dog, explained the hopeless nature of the contest.Again I cheered them on, and suddenly Smut came up to me from the fight, which was now not ten paces distant, but perfectly concealed in thick bamboo underwood.The old dog was covered with blood, his back was bristled up, and his deep growl betokened his hopeless rage.Poor old dog! he had his death-wound.
