The Rifle And The Hound In Ceylon(Fiscle Part-3) by Sir Samuel White Baker (reading books for 4 year olds txt) 📖

Gave Him Repeated Thrusts,  Apparently To Little

Purpose. Round Came His Head And Gleaming Tusks To The Attack Of His

Fresh Enemies,  But Old Smut Held Him By The Nose,  And,  Although The

Bright Tusks Were Immediately Buried In His Throat,  The Staunch Old Dog

Kept His Hold. Away Went The Boar Covered By A Mass Of Dogs,  And Bearing

The Greater Part Of Our Weight In Addition,  As We Hung On To The

Hunting-Knives Buried In His Shoulders. For About Fifty Paces He Tore

Through The Thick Jungle,  Crashing It Like A Cobweb. At Length He Again

Halted; The Dogs,  The Boar,  And Ourselves Were Mingled In A Heap Of

Confusion. All Covered With Blood And Dirt; Our Own Cheers Added To The

Wild Bay Of The Infuriated Hounds And The Savage Roaring Of The Boar.

Still He Fought And Gashed The Dogs Right And Left. He Stood About

Thirty-Eight Inches High,  And The Largest Dogs Seemed Like Puppies

Beside Him; Still Not A Dog Relaxed His Hold,  And He Was Covered With

Wounds. I Made A Lucky Thrust For The Nape Of His Neck. I Felt The Point

Of The Knife Touch The Bone; The Spine Was Divided,  And He Fell Dead.

 

Smut Had Two Severe Gashes In The Throat,  Lena Was Cut Under The Ear,

And Bran's Mouth Was Opened Completely Up To His Ear In A Horrible

Wound. The Dogs Were Completely Exhausted,  And Lay Panting Around Their

Victim. We Cut Off The Boar's Head,  And,  Slinging It Upon A Pole,  We

Each Shouldered An End And Carried It To The Kennel. The Power Of This

Animal Must Have Been Immense. My Brother's Weight And Mine,  Together

Being Upward Of Twenty-Four Stone,  In Addition To That Of Half-A-Dozen

Heavy Dogs,  Did Not Appear To Trouble Him,  And Had We Not Been Close To

The Spot When He Came To Bay,  So That The Knives Came To The Instant

Succour Of The Dogs,  He Would Have Most Probably Killed Or Wounded Half

The Pack.

 

In This Wild And Rough Kind Of Sport,  The Best Dogs Are Constantly Most

Seriously Wounded,  And After A Fight Of This Kind,  Needles And Thread

And Bandages Are In Frequent Requisition. It Is Wonderful To See The

Rapid Recovery Of Dogs From Wounds Which At First Sight Appear

Incurable. An Instance Occurred A Short Time Ago,  When I Certainly Gave

Up One Of The Best Dogs For Lost. We Had Found A Buck,  Who After A Sharp

Run,  Came To Bay In A Deep Part Of The River Known By The Name Of Black

Pool. My Youngest Brother* {* James Baker,  Late Lieut.-Colonel Of

Cambridge University Volunteers.} (Who Is Always My Companion In

Hunting) And I Were At Some Distance,  But Feeling Certain Of The

Locality Of The Bay,  We Started Off At Full Speed Towards The Supposed

Spot. A Run Of A Mile,  Partly Through Jungle Leading Into A Deep Wooded

Ravine,  Brought Us To The River,  Which Flowed Through The Hollow,  And

Upon Approaching The Water,  We Distinctly Heard The Pack At Bay At Some

Distance Down The Stream. Before We Could Get Up,  The Buck Dashed Down

The River,  And Turning Sharp Up The Bank,  He Took Up The Hill Through A

Dense Jungle. Every Hound Was At Fault,  Except Two,  Who Were Close At

His Heels,  And Being Very Fast They Never Lost Sight Of Him. These Two

Dogs Were Merriman And Tiptoe; And Having Followed The Whole Pack To

Their Track,  We Soon Heard Them In Full Cry On The Top Of The High Hills

Which Overlook The River; They Were Coming Down The Hill-Side At Full

Speed Towards The Black Pool. Hiding Behind The Trees Lest We Should

Head The Buck,  Who We Now Heard Crashing Towards Us Through The Jungle,

We Suddenly Caught A Glimpse Of His Dun Hide As He Bounded Past Us,  And

Splashed Into The River. A Few Seconds After,  And Tiptoe,  The Leading

Hound,  Came Rushing On His Track,  But To Our Horror He Was Dragging His

Entrails After Him. The Excitement Of The Chase Recognised No Pain,  And

The Plucky Animal Actually Plunged Into The River,  And In Spite Of His

Mangled State,  He Swam Across,  And Disappeared In The Jungle On The

Opposite Side,  Upon The Track Which The Elk Had Taken. The Pack Now

Closed Up; Swimming The River,  They Opened Upon A Hot Scent On The

Opposite Bank,  And Running Parallel To The Stream,  They Drove The Buck

Out Of The Jungle,  And He Came To Bay On A Rocky Part Of The River,

Where The Velocity Of The Torrent Swept Every Dog Past Him And Rendered

His Position Secure. The Whole Pack Was There With The Exception Of

Tiptoe; We Looked For Him Among The Baying Hounds In Vain. For About

Twenty Minutes The Buck Kept His Impregnable Position,  When In A Foolish

Moment He Forsook It,  And Dashing Along The Torrent,  He Took To Deep

Water. The Whole Pack Was After Him; Once Merriman Got A Hold,  But Was

Immediately Beaten Off. Valiant,  Who Was Behaving Nobly,  And Made

Repeated Attempts To Seize,  Was Struck Beneath The Water As Often As He

Advanced. The Old Veteran Smut Was Well To The Point,  And His Deep Voice

Was Heard Loud Above The Din Of The Bay; But He Could Do Nothing. The

Buck Had A Firm Footing,  And Was Standing Shoulder-Deep; Rearing To His

Full Height,  And Springing At The Dogs As They Swam Towards Him,  He

Struck Them Beneath The Water With His Fore Feet. The Bay Lasted For

Half An Hour; At The Expiration Of This Time,  A Sudden Thought Appeared

Part 3 Chapter 8 Pg 66

To Strike Old Smut; Instead Of Continuing The Attack,  He Swam Direct For

The Shore,  Leaving The Buck Still Occupied With The Baying Pack. The Elk

Was Standing About Fourteen Feet From The Bank,  Which Was Covered With

Jungle. Presently We Saw The Cunning Old Hero Smut Creeping Like A

Leopard Along The Edge Of The Bank Till Opposite The Elk; He Slowly

Retreated For A Few Paces,  And The Next Moment He Was Seen Flying

Through The Air,  Having Made A Tremendous Spring At The Elk's Ear. A

Cloud Of Spray For An Instant Concealed The Effect. Both Dog And Buck

Were For A Few Moments Beneath The Water; When They Reappeared,  The Old

Dog Was Hanging On His Ear! Merriman At Once Had Him By The Other Ear;

And One After Another The Seizers Held Him. In Vain He Tried To Drown

Them Off By Diving; As His Head Again Rose Above The Surface,  The Dogs

Were At Their Places: His Struggles Were Useless,  And The Knife Finished

Him.

 

We Now Searched The Jungle For Tiptoe's Body,  Expecting To Find Him Dead

Where We Had Last Seen Him Enter The Jungle. Upon Searching The Spot,  We

Found Him Lying Down,  With His Bowels In A Heap By His Side; The

Quantity Would Have Filled A Cap. The Hole In His Side Was Made-By A

Blow From The Buck's Hoof,  And Not Being More Than Two Inches In Length,

Strangulation Had Taken Place,  And I Could Not Return The Bowels. The

Dog Was Still Alive,  Though Very Faint. Fortunately We Had A

Small-Bladed Knife,  With Which I Carefully Enlarged The Aperture,  And,

Having Cleaned The Bowels From The Dirt And Dead Leaves Which Had

Adhered To Them,  I Succeeded In Returning Them; Although I Expected The

Dog's Death Every Instant. Taking Off My Neck Tie,  I Made A Pad,  With

Which I Secured The Aperture,  And Bound Him Tightly Round With A

Handkerchief. Making A Sling With A Couple Of Jackets Upon A Pole,  We

Placed The Dog Carefully,  Within It,  And Carried Him Home. By Dressing

The Wound Every Day With Margosse Oil,  And Keeping The Pad And Bandage

In The Place,  To My Astonishment The Dog Recovered,  And He Is Now As

Well As Ever He Was,  With The Exception Of The Loss Of One Eye,  Which

Was Knocked Out By The Horn Of An Elk On Another. Occasion.

 

The Margosse Oil That I Have Mentioned Is A Most Valuable Balsam For

Wounds,  Having A Peculiar Smell,  Which Prevents The Attacks Of Flies,

Who Would Otherwise Blow The Sore And Occasion A Nest Of Maggots In A

Few Hours. This Oil Is Very Healing,  And Soon Creates A Healthy

Appearance In A Bad Cut. It Is Manufactured From The Fruit Of A Plant In

Ceylon,  But I Have Never Met With It In The Possession Of An English

Medical Man. The Smell Of This Oil Is Very Offensive,  Even Worse Than

Assafoetida,  Which It In Some Degree Resembles. There Are Many Medicinal

Plants In Ceylon Of Great Value,  Which,  Although Made Use Of By The

Natives,  Are Either Neglected Or Unknown To The Profession In Our Own

Country. One Of The Wild Fruits Of The Jungle,  The Wood-Apple Or Wild

Quince,  Is Very Generally Used By The Natives In Attacks Of Diarrhoea

And Dysentery In The Early Stages Of The Disease; This Has Been Used For

Some Years By English Medical Men In This Island,  But With No Very

Satisfactory Effect.

 

 

 

Part 3 Chapter 9 Pg 67

A Morning's Deer-Coursing--Kondawataweny--Rogue At Kondawa Taweny--A

Close Shave--Preparations For Catching An Elephant--Catching An

Elephant--Taming Him--Flying Shot At A Buck--Cave At

Dimbooldene--Awkward Ground--A Charmed Life.

 

It Was In July,  1848,  That I Pitched My Tent In The Portion Of Ceylon

Known As The 'Park,' For The Purpose Of Deer-Coursing. I Had Only Three

Greyhounds,  Killbuck,  Bran And Lena,  And These Had Been Carried In A

Palanquin From Newera Ellia,  A Distance Of One Hundred Miles. The Grass

Had All Been Burnt About Two Months Previously,  And The Whole Country

Was Perfectly Fresh And Green,  The Young Shoots Not Being More Than Half

A Foot High. The Deer Were Numerous But Wild,  Which Made The Sport The

More Enjoyable. I Cannot Describe The Country Better Than By Comparing

It To A Rich English Park,  Well Watered By Numerous Streams And Large

Rivers,  But Ornamented By Many Beautiful Rocky Mountains,  Which Are

Seldom To Be Met With In England. If This Part Of The Country Had The

Advantage Of The Newera Ellia Climate,  It Would Be A Paradise,  But The

Intense Heat Destroys Much Of The Pleasure In Both Shooting And

Coursing,  Especially In The Latter Sport,  As The Greyhounds Must Be Home

By 8 A. M.,  Or They Would Soon Die From The Effects Of The Sun.

 

It Was In The Cool Hour Of Sunrise,  When The Dew Lay Thickly Upon The

Grass,  And The Foliage Glistened With The First Beams Of Morning,  That

We Stalked Over The Extensive Plains With Killbuck And Lena In The

Slips,  In Search Of Deer. Several Herds Winded Us At A Distance Of Half

A Mile,  And Immediately Bounded Away,  Rendering Pursuit Impossible; And

We Determined Not To Slip The Dogs Unless They Had A Fair Start,  As One

Run In This Climate Was Quite Work Enough For A Morning. After Several

Disappointments In Stalking,  We At Length Discovered A Noble Buck

Standing Alone By The Edge Of A Narrow Belt Of Jungle; The Instant That

He Observed Us,  He Stepped Proudly Into The Cover. This Being Open

Forest,  My Brother Took The Greyhounds In At The Spot Where The Deer Had

Entered,  While I Ran