A hound when once in the jungle
is his own master. He obeys the sound of the halloo or the born,
or not, as he thinks proper. It is impossible to correct him, as
he is out of sight.
Now, the very fact of having one or two first-rate finders in a
pack, will very likely be the cause of spoiling the other hounds.
After repeated experience their instinct soon shows them that, no
matter how the whole pack may individually hunt, the "find" will
be achieved by one of the first-rate hounds, and gradually they
give up hunting and take to listening for the opening note of the
favorite. Of course in an open country they would be kept to
their work by the whip, but at Newera Ellia this is impossible.
This accounts for the extreme paucity of first-rate "finders."
Hunting in a wild country is a far more difficult task for hounds
than the ordinary chase at home. Wherever a country is cultivated
it must be enclosed. Thus, should a flock of sheep have thrown
the hounds out by crossing the scent, a cast round the fences
must soon hit it off again if the fox has left the field. But in
elk-hunting it is scarcely possible to assist the hounds; a dozen
different animals, or even a disturbed elk, may cross the scent
in parts of the jungle where the cry of the hounds is even out of
hearing. Again, an elk has a constant habit of running or
swimming down a river, his instinct prompting him to drown his
own scent, and thus throw off his pursuers. Here is a trial for
the hounds! - the elk has waded or swum down the stream, and the
baffled pack arrive upon the bank; their cheering music has
ceased; the elk has kept the water for perhaps a quarter of a
mile, or he may have landed several times during that distance
and again have taken to water.
Now the young hounds dash thoughtlessly across the river,
thinking of nothing but a straight course, and they are thrown
out on the barren bank on the other side. Back they come again,
wind about the last track for a few minutes, and then they are
forced to give it up - they are thrown out altogether.
Mark the staunch old hounds! - one has crossed the river; there
is no scent, but he strikes down the bank with his nose close to
the ground, and away he goes along the edge of the river casting
for a scent. Now mark old "Bluebeard," swimming steadily down
the stream; he knows the habits of his game as well as I do, and
two to one that he will find, although "Ploughboy" has just
started along the near bank so that both sides of the river are
being hunted.
