Eight Years' Wanderings in Ceylon by Samuel White Baker




















































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Every hound had stolen away; even the greyhounds buried their
noses in the broad track of the buck, so fresh - Page 73
Eight Years' Wanderings in Ceylon by Samuel White Baker - Page 73 of 173 - First - Home

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Every Hound Had Stolen Away; Even The Greyhounds Buried Their Noses In The Broad Track Of The Buck, So Fresh Was The Scent; And I Waited Quietly For "The Find." The Greyhounds Stood Round Me With Their Cars Cocked And Glistening Eyes, Intently Listening For The Expected Sound.

There they are!

All together, such a burst! They must have stolen away mute and have found on the other side the ridge, for they were now coming down at full speed from the very summit of the mountain.

>From the amount of music I knew they had a good start, but I had no idea that the buck would stand to such a pack at the very commencement of the hunt. Nevertheless there was a sudden bay within a few hundred yards of me, and the elk had already turned to fight. I knew that he was an immense fellow from his track, and I at once saw that he would show fine sport.

Just as I was running through the jungle toward the spot, the bay broke and the buck had evidently gone off straight away, as I heard the pack in full cry rapidly increasing their distance and going off down the mountain.

Sharp following was now the order of the day, and away we went. The mountain was so steep that it was necessary every now and then to check the momentum of a rapid descent by clinging to the tough saplings. Sometimes one would give way and a considerable spill would be the consequence. However, I soon got out on the patina about one-third of the way down the mountain, and here I met one of the natives, who was well posted. Not a sound of the pack was now to be heard; but this man declared most positively that the elk had suddenly changed his course, and, instead of keeping down the hill, had struck off to his left along the side of the mountain. Accordingly, off I started as hard as I could go with several natives, who all agreed as to the direction.

After running for about a mile along the patinas in the line which I judged the pack had taken, I heard one hound at bay in a narrow jungle high up on my left. It was only the halt of an instant, for the next moment I heard the same hound's voice evidently running on the other side of the strip of jungle, and taking off down the mountain straight for the dreaded river. Here was a day's work cut out as neatly as could be.

Running toward the spot, I found the buck's track leading in that direction, and I gave two or three view halloos at the top of my voice to bring the rest of the pack down upon it. They were close at hand, but the high wind had prevented me from hearing them, and away they came from the jungle, rushing down upon the scent like a flock of birds.

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