On arriving at the river, I could at first see
nothing for the high grass and bushes which grew upon the bank, but the
din of the bay was just below me. Sliding through the tangled underwood,
I dropped into deep water, and found myself swimming about with the buck
and dogs around me. Smut and Bran had him by the ears, and a thrust with
the knife finished him.
However great the excitement may be during the actual hunting, there is
a degree of monotony in the recital of so many scenes of the same
character that may be fatiguing: I shall therefore close the description
of these mountain sports with the death of the old hero Smut, and the
loss of the best hound, Merriman, both of whom have left a blank in the
pack not easily filled.
On October 16, 1852, I started with a very short pack. Lucifer was left
in the kennel lame; Lena was at home with her pups; and several other
dogs were sick. Smut and Bran were the only two seizers out that day,
and, being short-handed, I determined to hunt in the more green country
at the foot of Hackgalla mountain.
My brother and I entered the jungle with the dogs, and before we had
proceeded a hundred yards we heard a fierce bay, every dog having
joined. The bay was not a quarter of a mile distant, and we were puzzled
as to the character of the game: whatever it was, it had stood to bay
without a run. Returning to the patina, in which position we could
distinctly assure ourselves of the direction, we heard the bay broken,
and a slow run commenced. The next instant Bran came hobbling out of the
jungle covered with blood, which streamed from a frightful gash in his
hind-quarters. There was no more doubt remaining as to the game at bay;
I it was an enormous boar.
Bran was completely HORS DE COMBAT; and Smut, having lost nearly all his
teeth, was of no use singlehanded with such an enemy. We had no seizers
to depend upon, and the boar again stood to bay in a thick jungle.
I happened to have a rifle with me that morning, as I had noticed fresh
elephant-tracks in the neighbourhood a few days previous, and hoping to
be able to shoot the boar, we entered the jungle and approached the
scene of the bay.
When within twenty paces of the spot I heard his fierce grunting as he
charged right and left into the baying pack.* (*It was impossible to
call the hounds off their game; therefore the only chance lay in the
boar being seized, when I could have immediately rushed in with the
knife.
