The
Buck Had Taken Up A Position In A Small Glade, And Was Charging The Dog
Furiously; But The Pariah Was Too Knowing To Court The Danger, And Kept
Well Out Of The Way.
I shot the buck, and, tying a piece of jungle-rope
to the dog's neck, gave him to a gun-bearer to lead, as I hoped he might
be again useful in hunting up a wounded deer.
I had not proceeded more than half a mile, when we arrived at the edge
of a small sluggish stream, covered in most places with rushes and
water-lilies. We forded this about hip-deep, but the gun-bearer who had
the dog could not prevail upon our mute companion to follow; he pulled
violently back and shrinked, and evinced every symptom of terror at the
approach of water.
I was now at the opposite bank, and nothing would induce him to come
near the river, so I told the gun-bearer to drag him across by force.
This he accordingly did, and the dog swam with frantic exertions across
the river, and managed to disengage his head from the rope. The moment
that he arrived on terra firma he rushed up a steep bank and looked
attentively down into the water beneath.
We now gave him credit for his sagacity in refusing to cross the
dangerous passage. The reeds bowed down to the right and left as a huge
crocodile of about eighteen feet in length moved slowly from his shallow
bed into a deep hole. The dog turned to the right-about, and went off as
fast as his legs would carry him. No calling or whistling would induce
him to return, and I never saw him again. How he knew that a crocodile
was in the stream I cannot imagine. He must have had a narrow escape at
some former time, which was a lesson that he seemed determined to profit
by.
Shortly after the disappearance of the dog, I separated from my
companion and took a different line of country. Large plains, with
thorny jungles and bushes of the long cockspur thorn interspersed,
formed the character of the ground. This place literally swarmed with
peafowl, partridges, and deer. I killed another peacock, and the shot
disturbed a herd of about sixty deer, who bounded over the plain till
out of sight. I tracked up this herd for nearly a mile, when I observed
them behind a large bush; some were lying down and others were standing.
A buck and doe presently quitted the herd, and advancing a few paces
from the bush they halted, and evidently winded me. I was screening
myself behind a small tree, and the open ground between me and the game
precluded the possibility of a nearer approach. It was a random distance
for a deer, but I took a rest against the stem of the tree and fired at
the buck as he stood with his broadside exposed, being shoulder to
shoulder with the doe. Away went the herd, flying over the plain; but,
to my delight, there were two white bellies struggling upon the ground.
I ran up to cut their throats; (*1 This is necessary to allow the blood
to escape, otherwise they would be unfit for food) the two-ounce ball
had passed through the shoulders of both; and I stepped the distance to
the tree from which I had fired, 'two hundred and thirteen paces.'
Shortly after this 1 got another shot which, by a chance, killed two
deer. I was strolling through a narrow glade with open jungles upon
either side, when I suddenly heard a quick double shot, followed by the
rush of a large herd of deer coming through the jungle. I immediately
lay flat upon the ground, and presently an immense herd of full a
hundred deer passed across the glade at full gallop, within seventy
yards of me. Jumping up, I fired at a doe, and, to my surprise, two deer
fell to the shot, one of which was a fawn; the ball had passed through
the shoulder of the mother, and had broken the fawn's neck upon the
opposite side. I am astonished that this chance of killing two at one
shot does not more often happen when the dense body of a herd of deer is
exposed to a rifle-ball.
Deer-stalking is one of the most exciting sports in the world. I have
often crept upon hands and knees for upwards of a quarter of a mile
through mud and grass to get a shot at a fine antlered buck. It
frequently happens that after a long stalk in this manner, when some
sheltering object is reached which you have determined upon for the
shot, just as you raise your head above the grass in expectation of
seeing the game, you find a blank. He has watched your progress by the
nose, although the danger was hidden from his view, and your trouble is
unrewarded.
In all wild shooting, in every country and climate, the `wind' is the
first consideration. If you hunt down wind you will never get a deer.
You will have occasional glimpses of your game, who will be gazing
intently at you at great distances long before you can see them, but you
will never get a decent shot. The great excitement and pleasure of all
sport consists in a thorough knowledge of the pursuit. When the dew is
heavy upon the ground at break of day, you are strolling noiselessly
along with the rifle, scanning the wide plains and searching the banks
of the pools and streams for foot-marks of the spotted deer. Upon
discovering the tracks their date is immediately known, the vicinity of
the game is surmised, the tracks are followed up, and the herd is at
length discovered. The wind is observed; dry leaves crumbled into powder
and let fall from the hand detect the direction if the slightest air is
stirring, and the approach is made accordingly.
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