The Kennel Bench Was Comfortably Littered, And The Pack Took Possession
Of Their New Abode With The Usual Amount Of Growling And Quarrelling For
Places; The Angry Grumbling Continuing Throughout The Night Between The
Three Champions Of The Kennel--Smut, Bran, And Killbuck.
After a night
much disturbed by this constant quarrelling, we unkennelled the hounds
just as the first grey streak of dawn spread above Totapella Peak.
The mist was hanging heavily on the lower parts of the plain like a
thick snowbank, although the sky was beautifully clear above, in which a
few pale stars still glimmered. Long lines of fog were slowly drifting
along the bottoms of the valleys, dispelled by a light breeze, and day
fast advancing bid fair for sport; a heavy dew lay upon the grass, and
we stood for some moments in uncertainty as to the first point of our
extensive hunting-grounds that we should beat. There were fresh tracks
of elk close to our 'lodge,' who had been surveying our new settlement
during the night. Crossing the river by wading waist-deep, we skirted
along the banks, winding through a narrow valley with grassy hills
capped with forest upon either side. Our object in doing this was to
seek for marks where the elk had come down to drink during the night, as
we knew that the tracks would then lead to the jungle upon either side
the river. We had strolled quietly along for about half a mile, when the
loud bark of an elk was suddenly heard in the jungle upon the opposite
hills.
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