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.
I
happened 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.
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