CHAPTER XIII.

Conclusion

THE RIFLE AND HOUND.

CHAPTER I.

Wild Country-Dealings in the Marvellous-Enchanting Moments The Wild

Elephant of Ceylon--'Rogues'-Elephant Slaughter-Thick Jungles-Character

of the Country-Varieties of Game in Ceylon--'Battery for Ceylon

Sport'-The Elk or 'Samber Deer'-Deer-coursing.

It is a difficult task to describe a wild country so exactly, that a

stranger's eye shall at once be made acquainted with its scenery and

character by the description. And yet this is absolutely necessary, if

the narration of sports in foreign countries is supposed to interest

those who have never had the opportunity of enjoying them. The want of

graphic description of localities in which the events have occurred, is

the principal cause of that tediousness which generally accompanies

the steady perusal of a sporting work. You can read twenty pages with

interest, but a monotony soon pervades it, and sport then assumes an

appearance of mere slaughter.

Now, the actual killing of an animal, the death itself, is not sport,

unless the circumstances connected with it are such as to create that

peculiar feeling which can only be expressed by the word 'sport.'

This feeling cannot exist in the heart of a butcher; he would as soon

slaughter a fine buck by tying him to a post and knocking him down,

as he would shoot him in his wild native haunts--the actual moment of

death, the fact of killing, is his enjoyment. To a true sportsman the

enjoyment of a sport increases in proportion to the wildness of the

country. Catch a six-pound trout in a quiet mill-pond in a populous

manufacturing neighbourhood, with well-cultivated meadows on either side

of the stream, fat cattle grazing on the rich pasturage, and, perhaps,

actually watching you as you land your fish: it may be sport. But catch

a similar fish far from the haunts of men, in a boiling rocky torrent

surrounded by heathery mountains, where the shadow of a rod has seldom

been reflected in the stream, and you cease to think the former fish

worth catching; still he is the same size, showed the same courage, had

the same perfection of condition, and yet you cannot allow that it was

sport compared with this wild stream. If you see no difference in the

excitement, you are not a sportsman; you would as soon catch him in

a washing tub, and you should buy your fish when you require him; but

never use a rod, or you would disgrace the hickory.

This feeling of a combination of wild country with the presence of the

game itself, to form a real sport, is most keenly manifested when we

turn our attention to the rifle. This noble weapon is thrown away in an

enclosed country. The smooth-bore may and does afford delightful sport

upon our cultivated fields; but even that pleasure is doubled when

those enclosures no longer intervene, and the wide-spreading moors and

morasses of Scotland give an idea of freedom and undisturbed nature. Who

can compare grouse with partridge shooting? Still the difference exists,

not so much in the character of the bird as in the features of the

country. It is the wild aspect of the heathery moor without a bound,

except the rugged outline of the mountains upon the sky, that gives

such a charm to the grouse-shooting in Scotland, and renders the

deer-stalking such a favourite sport among the happy few who can enjoy

it.

All this proves that the simple act of killing is not sport; if it were,

the Zoological Gardens would form as fine a field to an elephant shot as

the wildest Indian jungle.

Man is a bloodthirsty animal, a beast of prey, instinctively; but let

us hope that a true sportsman is not savage, delighting in nothing but

death, but that his pursuits are qualified by a love of nature, of noble

scenery, of all the wonderful productions which the earth gives forth

in different latitudes. He should thoroughly understand the nature and

habits of every beast or bird that he looks upon as game. This last

attribute is indispensable; without it he may kill, but he is not a

sportsman.

We have, therefore, come to the conclusion that the character of a

country influences the character of the sport. The first question,

therefore, that an experienced man would ask at the recital of a

sporting anecdote would be, 'What kind of country is it?' That being

clearly described to him, he follows you through every word of your tale

with a true interest, and in fact joins in imagination in the chase.

There is one great drawback to the publication of sporting

adventures--they always appear to deal not a little in the marvellous;

and this effect is generally heightened by the use of the first person

in writing, which at all events may give an egotistical character to a

work. This, however, cannot easily be avoided, if a person is describing

his own adventures, and he labours under the disadvantage of being

criticised by readers who do not know him personally, and may,

therefore, give him credit for gross exaggeration.

It is this feeling that deters many men who have passed through years of

wild sports from publishing an account of them. The fact of being able

to laugh in your sleeve at the ignorance of a reader who does not credit

you, is but a poor compensation for being considered a better shot with

a long bow than with a rifle. Often have I pitied Gordon Cumming when

I have heard him talked of as a palpable Munchausen, by men who never

fired a rifle, or saw a wild beast, except in a cage; and still these

men form the greater proportion of the 'readers' of these works.

Men who have not seen, cannot understand the grandeur of wild sports in

a wild country. There is an indescribable feeling of supremacy in a man

who understands his game thoroughly, when he stands upon some elevated

point and gazes over the wild territory of savage beasts. He feels

himself an invader upon the solitudes of nature. The very stillness of

the scene is his delight. There is a mournful silence in the calmness of

the evening, when the tropical sun sinks upon the horizon--a conviction

that man has left this region undisturbed to its wild tenants. No hum of

distant voices, no rumbling of busy wheels, no cries of domestic animals

meet the ear. He stands upon a wilderness, pathless and untrodden by

the foot of civilisation, where no sound is ever heard but that of the

elements, when the thunder rolls among the towering forests or the wind

howls along the plains. He gazes far, far into the distance, where the

blue mountains melt into an indefinite haze; he looks above him to the

rocky pinnacles which spring from the level plain, their swarthy cliffs

glistening from the recent shower, and patches of rich verdure clinging

to precipices a thousand feet above him. His eye stretches along the

grassy plains, taking at one full glance a survey of woods, and rocks,

and streams; and imperceptibly his mind wanders to thoughts of home,

and in one moment scenes long left behind are conjured up by memory,

and incidents are recalled which banish for a time the scene before him.

Lost for a moment in the enchanting power of solitude, where fancy and

reality combine in their most bewitching forms, he is suddenly roused by

a distant sound made doubly loud by the surrounding silence--the shrill

trumpet of an elephant. He wakes from his reverie; the reality of the

present scene is at once manifested. He stands within a wilderness where

the monster of the forest holds dominion; he knows not what a day, not

even what a moment, may bring forth; he trusts in a protecting Power,

and in the heavy rifle, and he is shortly upon the track of the king of

beasts.

The king of beasts is generally acknowledged to be the 'lion'; but no

one who has seen a wild elephant can doubt for a moment that the title

belongs to him in his own right. Lord of all created animals in might

and sagacity, the elephant roams through his native forests. He browses

upon the lofty branches, upturns young trees from sheer malice, and from

plain to forest he stalks majestically at break of day 'monarch of all

he surveys.'

A person who has never seen a wild elephant can form no idea of his

real character, either mentally or physically. The unwieldy and

sleepy-looking beast, who, penned up in his cage at a menagerie,

receives a sixpence in his trunk, and turns round with difficulty to

deposit it in a box; whose mental powers seem to be concentrated in

the idea of receiving buns tossed into a gaping mouth by children's

hands,--this very beast may have come from a warlike stock. His sire may

have been the terror of a district, a pitiless highwayman, whose soul

thirsted for blood; who, lying in wait in some thick bush, would rush

upon the unwary passer-by, and know no pleasure greater than the act

of crushing his victim to a shapeless mass beneath his feet. How little

does his tame sleepy son resemble him! Instead of browsing on the rank

vegetation of wild pasturage, he devours plum-buns; instead of bathing

his giant form in the deep rivers and lakes of his native land, he

steps into a stone-lined basin to bathe before the eyes of a pleased

multitude, the whole of whom form their opinion of elephants in general

from the broken-spirited monster which they see before them.

I have even heard people exclaim, upon hearing anecdotes of

elephant-hunting, 'Poor things!'

Poor things, indeed! I should like to see the very person who thus

expresses his pity, going at his best pace, with a savage elephant

after him: give him a lawn to run upon if he likes, and see the elephant

gaining a foot in every yard of the chase, fire in his eye, fury in his

headlong charge; and would not the flying gentleman who lately exclaimed

'Poor thing!' be thankful to the lucky bullet that would save him from

destruction?

There are no animals more misunderstood than elephants; they are

naturally savage, wary, and revengeful; displaying as great courage when

in their wild state as any animal known. The fact of their great natural

sagacity renders them the more dangerous as foes. Even when tamed, there

are many that are not safe for a stranger to approach, and they are then

only kept in awe by the sharp driving hook of the mohout.

In their domesticated state I have seen them perform wonders of sagacity

and strength; but I have nothing to do with tame elephants; there are

whole books written upon the subject, although the habits of an elephant

can be described in a few words.

All wild animals in a tropical country avoid the sun. They wander forth

to feed upon the plains in the evening and during the night, and they

return to the jungle shortly after sunrise.

Elephants have the same habits. In those parts of the country where such

pasturage abounds as bamboo, lemon grass, sedges on the banks of rivers,

lakes, and swamps, elephants are sure to be found at such seasons as

are most propitious for the growth of these plants. When the dry weather

destroys this supply of food in one district, they migrate to another

part of the country.

They come forth to feed about 4 P.M., and they invariably, retire to

the thickest and most thorny jungle in the neighbourhood of their

feeding-place by 7 A.M. In these impenetrable haunts they consider

themselves secure from aggression.

The period of gestation with an elephant is supposed to be two years,

and the time occupied in attaining full growth is about sixteen years.

The whole period of life is supposed to be a hundred years, but my own

opinion would increase that period by fifty.

The height of elephants varies to a great degree, and in all cases is

very deceiving. In Ceylon, an elephant is measured at the shoulder, and

nine feet at this point is a very large animal. There is no doubt that

many elephants far exceed this, as I have shot them so large that two

tall men could lie at full length from the point of the forefoot to

the shoulder; but this is not a common size: the average height at the

shoulder would be about seven feet.*(*The males 7 ft.6 in., the females

7 ft., at the shoulder.)

Not more than one in three hundred has tusks; they are merely provided

with short grubbers, projecting generally about three inches from the

upper jaw, and about two inches in diameter; these are called 'tushes'

in Ceylon, and are of so little value that they are not worth extracting

from the head. They are useful to the elephants in hooking on to a

branch and tearing it down.

Elephants are gregarious, and the average number in a herd is about

eight, although they frequently form bodies of fifty and even eighty in

one troop. Each herd consists of a very large proportion of females, and

they are constantly met without a single bull in their number. I have

seen some small herds formed exclusively of bulls, but this is very

rare. The bull is much larger than the female, and is generally more

savage. His habits frequently induce him to prefer solitude to a

gregarious life. He then becomes doubly vicious. He seldom strays many

miles from one locality, which he haunts for many years. He becomes what

is termed a 'rogue.' He then waylays the natives, and in fact becomes

a scourge to the neighbourhood, attacking the inoffensive without

the slightest provocation, carrying destruction into the natives'

paddy-fields, and perfectly regardless of night fires or the usual

precautions for scaring wild beasts.

The daring pluck of these 'rogues' is only equalled by their extreme

cunning. Endowed with that wonderful power of scent peculiar to

elephants, he travels in the day-time DOWN the wind; thus nothing can

follow upon his track without his knowledge. He winds his enemy as the

cautious hunter advances noiselessly upon his track, and he stands with

ears thrown forward, tail erect, trunk thrown high in the air, with its

distended tip pointed to the spot from which he winds the silent but

approaching danger. Perfectly motionless does he stand, like a statue in

ebony, the very essence of attention, every nerve of scent and hearing

stretched to its cracking point; not a muscle moves, not a sound of a

rustling branch against his rough sides; he is a mute figure of wild and

fierce eagerness. Meanwhile, the wary tracker stoops to the ground,

and with a practised eye pierces the tangled brushwood in search of his

colossal feet. Still farther and farther he silently creeps forward,

when suddenly a crash bursts through the jungle; the moment has arrived

for the ambushed charge, and the elephant is upon him.

What increases the danger is the uncertainty prevailing in all the

movements of a 'rogue'. You may perhaps see him upon a plain or in a

forest. As you advance, he retreats, or he may at once charge. Should he

retreat, you follow him; but you may shortly discover that he is leading

you to some favourite haunt of thick jungle or high grass, from which,

when you least expect it, he will suddenly burst out in full charge upon

you.

Next to a 'rogue' in ferocity, and even more persevering in the pursuit

of her victim, is a female elephant when her young one has been killed.

In such a case she will generally follow up her man until either he

or she is killed. If any young elephants are in the herd, the mothers

frequently prove awkward customers.

Elephant-shooting is doubtless the most dangerous of all sports if the

game is invariably followed up; but there is a great difference between

elephant-killing and elephant-hunting; the latter is sport, the former

is slaughter.

Many persons who have killed elephants know literally nothing about the

sport, and they may ever leave Ceylon with the idea that an elephant is

not a dangerous animal. Their elephants are killed in this way, viz.:

The party of sportsmen, say two or three, arrive at a certain district.

The headman is sent for from the village; he arrives. The enquiry

respecting the vicinity of elephants is made; a herd is reported to be

in the neighbourhood, and trackers and watchers are sent out to find

them.

In the meantime the tent is pitched, our friends are employed in

unpacking the guns, and, after some hours have elapsed, the trackers

return: they have found the herd, and the watchers are left to observe

them.

The guns are loaded and the party starts. The trackers run quickly on

the track until they meet one of the watchers who has been sent back

upon the track by the other watchers to give the requisite information

of the movements of the herd since the trackers left. One tracker

now leads the way, and they cautiously proceed. The boughs are heard

slightly rustling as the unconscious elephants are fanning the flies

from their bodies within a hundred yards of the guns.

The jungle is open and good, interspersed with plots of rank grass; and

quietly following the head tracker, into whose hands our friends have

committed themselves, they follow like hounds under the control of a

huntsman. The tracker is a famous fellow, and he brings up his

employers in a masterly manner within ten paces of the still unconscious

elephants. He now retreats quietly behind the guns, and the sport

begins. A cloud of smoke from a regular volley, a crash through the

splintering branches as the panic-stricken herd rush from the scene of

conflict, and it is all over. X. has killed two, Y. has killed one,

and Z. knocked down one, but he got up again and got away; total, three

bagged. Our friends now return to the tent, and, after perhaps a month

of this kind of shooting, they arrive at their original headquarters,

having bagged perhaps twenty elephants. They give their opinion upon

elephant-shooting, and declare it to be capital sport, but there is no

danger in it, as the elephants INVARIABLY RUN AWAY.

Let us imagine ourselves in the position of the half-asleep and

unsuspecting herd. We are lying down in a doze during the heat of

the day, and our senses are half benumbed by a sense of sleep. We are

beneath the shade of a large tree, and we do not dream that danger is

near us.

A frightful scream suddenly scatters our wandering senses. It is a rogue

elephant upon us! It was the scream of his trumpet that we heard! and

he is right among us. How we should bolt! How we should run at the first

start until we could get a gun! But let him continue this pursuit, and

how long would he be without a ball in his head?

It is precisely the same in attacking a herd of elephants or any other

animals unawares; they are taken by surprise, and are for the moment

panic-stricken. But let our friends X., Y., Z., who have just bagged

three elephants so easily, continue the pursuit, hunt the remaining

portion of the herd down till one by one they have nearly all fallen to

the bullet--X., Y., Z. will have had enough of it; they will be blinded

by perspiration, torn by countless thorns, as they have rushed through

the jungles determined not to lose sight of their game, soaked to the

skin as they have waded through intervening streams, and will entirely

have altered their opinion as to elephants invariably running away,

as they will very probably have seen one turn sharp round from the

retreating herd, and charge straight into them when they least expected

it. At any rate, after a hunt of this kind they can form some opinion of

the excitement of the true sport.

The first attack upon a herd by a couple of first-rate elephant-shots

frequently ends the contest in a few seconds by the death of every

elephant. I have frequently seen a small herd of five or six elephants

annihilated almost in as many seconds after a well-planned approach in

thick jungle, when they have been discovered standing in a crowd and

presenting favourable shots. In such an instance the sport is so soon

concluded that the only excitement consists in the cautious advance to

the attack through bad jungle.

As a rule, the pursuit of elephants through bad, thorny jungles should

if possible be avoided: the danger is in many cases extreme, although

the greater portion of the herd may at other times be perhaps easily

killed. There is no certainty in a shot. An elephant may be discerned by

the eye looming in an apparent mist formed by the countless intervening

twigs and branches which veil him like a screen of network. To reach the

fatal spot the ball must pass through perhaps fifty little twigs, one of

which, if struck obliquely, turns the bullet, and there is no answering

for the consequence. There are no rules, however, without exceptions,

and in some instances the following of the game through the thickest

jungle can hardly be avoided.

The character of the country in Ceylon is generally very unfavourable

to sport of all kinds. The length of the island is about two hundred and

eighty miles, by one hundred and fifty in width; the greater portion

of this surface is covered with impenetrable jungles, which form secure

coverts for countless animals.

The centre of the island is mountainous, torrents from which, form the

sources of the numerous rivers by which Ceylon is so well watered. The

low country is flat. The soil throughout the island is generally poor

and sandy.

This being the character of the country, and vast forests rendered

impenetrable by tangled underwood forming the principal features of the

landscape, a person arriving at Ceylon for the purpose of enjoying its

wild sports would feel an inexpressible disappointment.

Instead of mounting a good horse, as he might have fondly anticipated,

and at once speeding over trackless plains till so far from human

habitations that the territories of beasts commence, he finds himself

walled in by jungle on either side of the highway. In vain he asks for

information. He finds the neighbourhood of Galle, his first landing

place, densely populated; he gets into the coach for Colombo. Seventy

miles of close population and groves of cocoa-nut trees are passed, and

he reaches the capital. This is worse and worse--he has seen no signs

of wild country during his long journey, and Colombo appears to be the

height of civilisation. He books his place for Kandy; he knows that

is in the very centre of Ceylon--there surely must be sport there, he

thinks.

The morning gun fires from the Colombo fort at 5 A.M. and the

coach starts. Miles are passed, and still the country is thickly

populated--paddy cultivation in all the flats and hollows, and even the

sides of the hills are carefully terraced out in a laborious system of

agriculture. There can be no shooting here!

Sixty miles are passed; the top of the Kaduganava Pass is reached,

eighteen hundred feet above the sea level, the road walled with jungle

on either side. From the summit of this pass our newly arrived sportsman

gazes with despair. Far as the eye can reach over a vast extent of

country, mountain and valley, hill and dale, without one open spot, are

clothed alike in one dark screen of impervious forest.

He reaches Kandy, a civilised town surrounded by hills of jungle--that

interminable jungle!--and at Kandy he may remain, or, better still,

return again to England, unless he can get some well-known Ceylon

sportsman to pilot him through the apparently pathless forests, and

in fact to 'show him sport.' This is not easily effected. Men who

understand the sport are not over fond of acting 'chaperon' to a young

hand, as a novice must always detract from the sport in some degree.

In addition to this, many persons do not exactly know themselves; and,

although the idea of shooting elephants appears very attractive at a

distance, the pleasure somewhat abates when the sportsman is forced to

seek for safety in a swift pair of heels.

I shall now proceed to give a description of the various sports in

Ceylon--a task for which the constant practice of many years has

afforded ample incident.

The game of Ceylon consists of elephants, buffaloes, elk, spotted deer,

red or the paddy-field deer*(*A small species of deer found in the

island), mouse deer, hogs, bears, leopards, hares, black partridge,

red-legged partridge, pea-fowl, jungle-fowl, quail, snipe, ducks,

widgeon, teal, golden and several kinds of plover, a great variety of

pigeons, and among the class of reptiles are innumerable snakes, etc.,

and the crocodile.

The acknowledged sports of Ceylon are elephant-shooting,

buffalo-shooting, deer-shooting, elk-hunting, and deer-coursing: the two

latter can only be enjoyed by a resident in the island, as of course the

sport is dependent upon a pack of fine hounds. Although the wild boar is

constantly killed, I do not reckon him among the sports of the country,

as he is never sought for; death and destruction to the hounds generally

being attendant upon his capture. The bear and leopard also do not form

separate sports; they are merely killed when met with.

In giving an account of each kind of sport I shall explain the habits

of the animal and the features of the country wherein every incident

occurs, Ceylon scenery being so diversified that no general description

could give a correct idea of Ceylon sports.

The guns are the first consideration. After the first year of my

experience I had four rifles made to order, which have proved themselves

perfect weapons in all respects, and exactly adapted for heavy game.

They are double-barrelled, No. 10 bores, and of such power in metal that

they weigh fifteen pounds each. I consider them perfection; but should

others consider them too heavy, a pound taken from the weight of the

barrels would make a perceptible difference. I would in all cases

strongly deprecate the two grooved rifle for wild sports, on account of

the difficulty in loading quickly. A No. 10 twelve-grooved rifle will

carry a conical ball of two ounces and a half, and can be loaded as

quickly as a smooth-bore. Some persons prefer the latter to rifles

for elephant-shooting, but I cannot myself understand why a decidedly

imperfect weapon should be used when the rifle offers such superior

advantages. At twenty and even thirty paces a good smooth-bore will

carry a ball with nearly the same precision as a rifle; but in a country

full of various large game there is no certainty, when the ball is

rammed down, at what object it is to be aimed. A buffalo or deer may

cross the path at a hundred yards, and the smooth-bore is useless; on

the other hand, the rifle is always ready for whatever may appear.

My battery consists of one four-ounce rifle (a single barrel) weighing

twenty-one pounds, one long two-ounce rifle (single barrel) weighing

sixteen pounds, and four double-barrelled rifles, No. 10 weighing

each fifteen pounds. Smooth-bores I count for nothing, although I have

frequently used them.

So much for guns. It may therefore be summed up that the proper battery

for Ceylon shooting would be four large-bored double-barrelled rifles,

say from No. 10 to No. 12 in size, but all to be the same bore, so as to

prevent confusion in loading. Persons may suit their own fancy as to

the weight of their guns, bearing in mind that single barrels are very

useless things.

Next to the 'Rifle' in the order of description comes the 'Hound.'

The 'elk' is his acknowledged game, and an account of this animal's size

and strength will prove the necessity of a superior breed of hound.

The 'elk' is a Ceylon blunder and a misnomer. The animal thus called is

a 'samber deer,' well known in India as the largest of all Asiatic deer.

A buck in his prime will stand fourteen hands high at the shoulder, and

will weigh 600 pounds, live weight. He is in colour dark brown, with a

fine mane of coarse bristly hair of six inches in length; the rest of

his body is covered with the same coarse hair of about two inches in

length. I have a pair of antlers in my possession that are thirteen

inches round the burr, and the same size beneath the first branch, and

three feet four inches in length; this, however, is a very unusual size.

The elk has seldom more than six points to his antlers. The low-country

elk are much larger than those on the highlands; the latter are seldom

more than from twelve to thirteen hands high; and of course their weight

is proportionate, that of a buck in condition being about 400 pounds

when gralloched. I have killed them much heavier than this on the

mountains, but I have given about the average weight.

The habits of this animal are purely nocturnal. He commences his

wanderings at sunset, and retires to the forest at break of day. He

is seldom found in greater numbers than two or three together, and is

generally alone. When brought to bay he fights to the last, and charges

man and hound indiscriminately, a choice hound killed being often the

price of victory.

The country in which he is hunted is in the mountainous districts of

Ceylon. Situated at an elevation of 6,200 feet above the sea is Newera

Ellia, the sanatorium of the island. Here I have kept a pack and hunted

elk for some years, the delightful coolness of the temperature (seldom

above 66 degrees Fahr.) rendering the sport doubly enjoyable. The

principal features of this country being a series of wild marsh,

plains, forests, torrents, mountains and precipices, a peculiar hound is

required for the sport.

A pack of thoroughbred fox-hounds would never answer. They would pick

up a cold scent and open upon it before they were within a mile of their

game. Roused from his morning nap, the buck would snuff the breeze, and

to the distant music give an attentive ear, then shake the dew from his

rough hide, and away over rocks and torrents, down the steep

mountain sides, through pathless forests; and woe then to the pack of

thoroughbreds, whose persevering notes would soon be echoed by the rocky

steeps, far, far away from any chance of return, lost in the trackless

jungles and ravines many miles from kennel, a prey to leopards and

starvation! I have proved this by experience, having brought a pack of

splendid hounds from England, only one of which survived a few months'

hunting.

The hound required for elk-hunting is a cross between the fox-hound

and blood-hound, of great size and courage, with as powerful a voice

as possible. He should be trained to this sport from a puppy, and his

natural sagacity soon teaches him not to open unless upon a hot scent,

or about two hundred yards from his game; thus the elk is not disturbed

until the hound is at full speed upon his scent, and he seldom gets a

long start. Fifteen couple of such hounds in full cry put him at his

best pace, which is always tried to the uttermost by a couple or two of

fast and pitiless lurchers who run ahead of the pack, the object

being to press him at first starting, so as to blow him at the very

commencement: this is easily effected, as he is full of food, and it is

his nature always to take off straight UP the hill when first disturbed.

When blown he strikes down hill, and makes at great speed for the

largest and deepest stream; in this he turns to bay, and tries the

mettle of the finest hounds.

The great enemy to a pack is the leopard. He pounces from the branch of

a tree upon a stray hound, and soon finishes him, unless of great size

and courage, in which case the cowardly brute is soon beaten off. This

forms another reason for the choice of large hounds.

The next sport is 'deer-coursing.' This is one of the most delightful

kinds of sport in Ceylon. The game is the axis or spotted deer, and the

open plains in many parts of the low country afford splendid ground for

both greyhound and horse.

The buck is about 250 pounds live weight, of wonderful speed and great

courage, armed with long and graceful antlers as sharp as needles. He

will suddenly turn to bay upon the hard ground, and charge his pursuers,

and is more dangerous to the greyhounds than the elk, from his wonderful

activity, and from the fact that he is coursed by only a pair of

greyhounds, instead of being hunted by a pack.

Pure greyhounds of great size and courage are best adapted for this

sport. They cannot afford to lose speed by a cross with slower hounds.

CHAPTER II.

Newera Ellia--The Turn-out for Elk-Hunting--Elk-Hunting--Elk turned to

Bay--The Boar.

Where shall I begin? This is a momentous question, when, upon glancing

back upon past years, a thousand incidents jostle each other for

precedence. How shall I describe them? This, again, is easier asked than

answered. A journal is a dry description, mingling the uninteresting

with the brightest moments of sport. No, I will not write a journal; it

would be endless and boring. I shall begin with the present as it is,

and call up the past as I think proper.

Here, then, I am in my private sanctum, my rifles all arranged in their

respective stands above the chimney-piece, the stags' horns round walls

hung with horn-cases, powder-flasks and the various weapons of the

chase. Even as I write the hounds are yelling in the kennel.

The thermometer is at 62 degrees Fahr., and it is mid-day. It never

exceeds 72 degrees in the hottest weather, and sometimes falls below

freezing point at night. The sky is spotless and the air calm. The

fragrance of mignonettes, and a hundred flowers that recall England,

fills the air. Green fields of grass and clover, neatly fenced, surround

a comfortable house and grounds. Well-fed cattle of the choicest breeds,

and English sheep, are grazing in the paddocks. Well-made roads and

gravel walks run through the estate. But a few years past, and this was

all wilderness.

Dense forest reigned where now not even the stump of a tree is standing;

the wind howled over hill and valley, the dank moss hung from the

scathed branches, the deep morass filled the hollows; but all is changed

by the hand of civilisation and industry. The dense forests and rough

plains, which still form the boundaries of the cultivated land, only add

to the beauty. The monkeys and parrots are even now chattering among

the branches, and occasionally the elephant in his nightly wanderings

trespasses upon the fields, unconscious of the oasis within his

territory of savage nature.

The still, starlight night is awakened by the harsh bark of the elk; the

lofty mountains, grey with the silvery moonlight, echo back the sound;

and the wakeful hounds answer the well-known cry by a prolonged and

savage yell.

This is 'Newera Ellia,' the sanatorium of Ceylon, the most perfect

climate of the world. It now boasts of a handsome church, a public

reading-room, a large hotel, the barracks, and about twenty private

residences.

The adjacent country, of comparatively table land, occupies an extent

of some thirty miles in length, varying in altitude from 6,200 to 7,000

feet, forming a base for the highest peaks in Ceylon, which rise to

nearly 9,000 feet.

Alternate large plains, separated by belts of forest, rapid rivers,

waterfalls, precipices, and panoramic views of boundless extent, form

the features of this country, which, combined with the sports of the

place, render a residence at Newera Ellia a life of health, luxury, and

independence.

The high road from Colombo passes over the mountains through Newera

Ellia to Badulla, from which latter place there is a bridle road,

through the best shooting districts in Ceylon, to the seaport town of

Batticaloa, and from thence to Trincomalee. The relative distances of

Newera Ellia are, from Galle, 185 miles; from Colombo, 115 miles; from

Kandy, 47 miles; from Badulla, 36 miles; from Batticaloa, 148 miles.

Were it not for the poverty of the soil, Newera Ellia would long ago

have become a place of great importance, as the climate is favourable

to the cultivation of all English produce; but an absence of lime in the

soil, and the cost of applying it artificially, prohibit the cultivation

of all grain, and restrict the produce of the land to potatoes and other

vegetables. Nevertheless, many small settlers earn a good subsistence,

although this has latterly been rendered precarious by the appearance of

the well-known potato disease.

Newera Ellia has always been a favourite place of resort during the

fashionable months, from the commencement of January to the middle

of May. At that time the rainy season commences, and visitors rapidly

disappear.

All strangers remark the scanty accommodation afforded to the numerous

visitors. To see the number of people riding and walking round the

Newera Ellia plain, it appears a marvel how they can be housed in the

few dwellings that exist. There is an endless supply of fine timber in

the forests, and powerful sawmills are already erected; but the island

is, like its soil, 'poor.' Its main staple, 'coffee,' does not pay

sufficiently to enable the proprietors of estates to indulge in the

luxury of a house at Newera Ellia. Like many watering-places in England,

it is overcrowded at one season and deserted at another, the only

permanent residents being comprised in the commandant, the officer in

command of the detachment of troops, the government agent, the doctor,

the clergyman, and our own family.

Dull enough! some persons may exclaim; and so it would be to any but a

sportsman; but the jungles teem with large game, and Newera Ellia is

in a central position, as the best sporting country is only three days'

journey, or one hundred miles, distant. Thus, at any time, the guns may

be packed up, and, with tents and baggage sent on some days in advance,

a fortnight's or a month's war may be carried on against the elephants

without much trouble.

The turn-out for elk-hunting during the fashionable season at Newera

Ellia is sometimes peculiarly exciting. The air is keen and frosty, the

plains snow-white with the crisp hoar frost, and even at the early hour

of 6 A.M. parties of ladies may be seen urging their horses round the

plain on their way to the appointed meet. Here we are waiting with the

anxious pack, perhaps blessing some of our more sleepy friends for not

turning out a little earlier. Party after party arrives, including

many of the fair sex, and the rosy tips to all countenances attest the

quality of the cold even in Ceylon.

There is something peculiarly inspiriting in the early hour of sunrise

upon these mountains--an indescribable lightness in the atmosphere,

owing to the great elevation, which takes a wonderful effect upon

the spirits. The horses and the hounds feel its influence in an equal

degree; the former, who are perhaps of sober character in the hot

climate, now champ the bit and paw the ground: their owners hardly know

them by the change.

We have frequently mustered as many as thirty horses at a meet; but on

these occasions a picked spot is chosen where the sport may be easily

witnessed by those who are unaccustomed to it. The horses may, in these

instances, be available, but as a rule they are perfectly useless in

elk-hunting, as the plains are so boggy that they would be hock-deep

every quarter of a mile. Thus no person can thoroughly enjoy elk-hunting

who is not well accustomed to it, as it is a sport conducted entirely on

foot, and the thinness of the air in this elevated region is very trying

to the lungs in hard exercise. Thoroughly sound in wind and limb, with

no superfluous flesh, must be the man who would follow the hounds in

this wild country--through jungles, rivers, plains and deep ravines,

sometimes from sunrise to sunset without tasting food since the previous

evening, with the exception of a cup of coffee and a piece of toast

before starting. It is trying work, but it is a noble sport: no weapon

but the hunting-knife; no certainty as to the character of the game that

may be found; it may be either an elk, or a boar, or a leopard, and yet

the knife and the good hounds are all that can be trusted in.

It is a glorious sport certainly to a man who thoroughly understands

it; the voice of every hound familiar to his ear; the particular kind of

game that is found is at once known to him, long before he is in view,

by the style of the hunting. If an elk is found, the hounds follow with

a burst straight as a line, and at a killing pace, directly up the

hill, till he at length turns and bends his headlong course for some

stronghold in a deep river to bay. Listening to the hounds till certain

of their course, a thorough knowledge of the country at once tells the

huntsman of their destination, and away he goes.

He tightens his belt by a hole, and steadily he starts at a long,

swinging trot, having made up his mind for a day of it. Over hills and

valleys, through tangled and pathless forests, but all well known to

him, steady he goes at the same pace on the level, easy through the bogs

and up the hills, extra steam down hill, and stopping for a moment to

listen for the hounds on every elevated spot. At length he hears them!

No, it was a bird. Again he fancies that he hears a distant sound--was

it the wind? No; there it is--it is old Smut's voice--he is at bay!

Yoick to him! he shouts till his lungs are well-nigh cracked, and

through thorns and jungles, bogs and ravines, he rushes towards the

welcome sound. Thick-tangled bushes armed with a thousand hooked thorns

suddenly arrest his course; it is the dense fringe of underwood that

borders every forest; the open plain is within a few yards of him. The

hounds in a mad chorus are at bay, and the woods ring again with the

cheering sound. Nothing can stop him now--thorns, or clothes, or flesh

must go--something must give way as he bursts through them and stands

upon the plain.

There they are in that deep pool formed by the river as it sweeps round

the rock. A buck! a noble fellow! Now he charges at the hounds, and

strikes the foremost beneath the water with his fore-feet; up they come

again to the surface--they hear their master's well-known shout--they

look round and see his welcome figure on the steep bank. Another moment,

a tremendous splash, and he is among his hounds, and all are swimming

towards their noble game. At them he comes with a fierce rush. Avoid him

as you best can, ye hunters, man and hounds!

Down the river the buck now swims, sometimes galloping over the

shallows, sometimes wading shoulder-deep, sometimes swimming through the

deep pools. Now he dashes down the fierce rapids and leaps the opposing

rocks, between which, the torrent rushes at a frightful pace. The hounds

are after him; the roaring of the water joins in their wild chorus; the

loud holloa of the huntsman is heard above every sound as he cheers the

pack on. He runs along the bank of the river, and again the enraged buck

turns to bay. He has this time taken a strong position: he stands in a

swift rapid about two feet deep; his thin legs cleave the stream as it

rushes past, and every hound is swept away as he attempts to stem the

current. He is a perfect picture: his nostrils are distended, his mane

is bristled up, his eyes flash, and he adds his loud bark of defiance to

the din around him. The hounds cannot touch him. Now for the huntsman's

part; he calls the stanchest seizers to his side, gives them a cheer on,

and steps into the torrent, knife in hand. Quick as lightning the buck

springs to the attack; but he has exposed himself, and at that moment

the tall lurchers are upon his ears; the huntsman leaps upon one side

and plunges the knife behind his shoulder. A tremendous struggle takes

place--the whole pack is upon him; still his dying efforts almost free

him from their hold: a mass of spray envelopes the whole scene. Suddenly

he falls--he dies--it is all over. The hounds are called off, and are

carefully examined for wounds.

The huntsman is now perhaps some miles from home, he, therefore, cuts

a long pole, and tying a large bunch of grass to one end, he sticks the

other end into the ground close to the river's edge where the elk is

lying. This marks the spot. He calls his hounds together and returns

homeward, and afterwards sends men to cut the buck up and bring the

flesh. Elk venison is very good, but is at all times more like beef than

English venison.

The foregoing may be considered a general description of elk-hunting,

although the incidents of the sport necessarily vary considerably.

The boar is our dangerous adversary, and he is easily known by the

character of the run. The hounds seldom open with such a burst upon the

scent as they do with an elk. The run is much slower; he runs down this

ravine and up that, never going straight away, and he generally comes to

bay after a run of ten minutes' duration.

A boar always chooses the very thickest part of the jungle as his

position for a bay, and from this he makes continual rushes at the

hounds.

The huntsman approaches the scene of the combat, breaking his way with

difficulty through the tangled jungle, until within about twenty yards

of the bay. He now cheers the hounds on to the attack, and if they are

worthy of their name, they instantly rush in to the boar regardless of

wounds. The huntsman is aware of the seizure by the grunting of the boar

and the tremendous confusion in the thick jungle; he immediately rushes

to the assistance of the pack, knife in hand.

A scene of real warfare meets his view--gaping wounds upon his best

hounds, the boar rushing through the jungle covered with dogs, and he

himself becomes the immediate object of his fury when observed.

No time is to be lost. Keeping behind the boar if possible, he rushes to

the bloody conflict, and drives the hunting-knife between the shoulders

in the endeavour to divide the spine. Should he happily effect this, the

boar falls stone dead; but if not, he repeats the thrust, keeping a good

look-out for the animal's tusks.

If the dogs were of not sufficient courage to rush in and seize the boar

when halloaed on, no man could approach him in a thick jungle with only

a hunting-knife, as he would in all probability have his inside ripped

out at the first charge. The animal is wonderfully active and ferocious,

and of immense power, constantly weighing 4 cwt.

The end of nearly every good seizer is being killed by a boar. The

better the dog the more likely he is to be killed, as he will be the

first to lead the attack, and in thick jungle he has no chance of

escaping from a wound.

CHAPTER III.

Minneria Lake--Brush with a Bull--An Awkward Vis-a-vis--A Bright

Thought--Bull Buffalo Receives his Small Change--What is Man?--Long Shot

with the Four-ounce--Charged by a Herd of Buffaloes--the Four-ounce

does Service--The 'Lola'--A Woman Killed by a Crocodile--Crocodile at

Bolgodde Lake--A Monster Crocodile--Death of a Crocodile.

THE foregoing description may serve as an introduction to the hill

sports of Ceylon. One animal, however, yet remains to be described, who

surpasses all others in dogged ferocity when once aroused. This is the

'buffalo.'

The haunts of this animal are in the hottest parts of Ceylon. In the

neighbourhood of lakes, swamps, and extensive plains, the buffalo exists

in large herds; wallowing in the soft mire, and passing two-thirds of

his time in the water itself, he may be almost termed amphibious.

He is about the size of a large ox, of immense bone and strength, very

active, and his hide is almost free from hair, giving a disgusting

appearance to his India-rubber-like skin. He carries his head in a

peculiar manner, the horns thrown back, and his nose projecting on a

level with his forehead, thus securing himself from a front shot in a

fatal part. This renders him a dangerous enemy, as he will receive

any number of balls from a small gun in the throat and chest without

evincing the least symptom of distress. The shoulder is the acknowledged

point to aim at, but from his disposition to face the guns this is a

difficult shot to obtain. Should he succeed in catching his antagonist,

his fury knows no bounds, and he gores his victim to death, trampling

and kneeling upon him till he is satisfied that life is extinct.

This sport would not be very dangerous in the forests, where the buffalo

could be easily stalked, and where escape would also be rendered less

difficult in case of accident; but as he is generally met with upon

the open plains, free from a single tree, he must be killed when once

brought to bay, or he will soon exhibit his qualifications for mischief.

There is a degree of uncertainty in their character which much increases

the danger of the pursuit. A buffalo may retreat at first sight with

every symptom of cowardice, and thus induce a too eager pursuit, when

he will suddenly become the assailant. I cannot explain their character

better than by describing the first wild buffaloes that I ever saw.

I had not been long in Ceylon, but having arrived in the island for the

sake of its wild sports, I had not been idle, and I had already made a

considerable bag of large game. Like most novices, however, I was guilty

of one great fault. I despised the game, and gave no heed to the many

tales of danger and hair-breadth escapes which attended the pursuit of

wild animals. This carelessness on my part arose from my first debut

having been extremely lucky; most shots had told well, and the animal

had been killed with such apparent ease that I had learnt to place an

implicit reliance in the rifle. The real fact was that I was like many

others; I had slaughtered a number of animals without understanding

their habits, and I was perfectly ignorant of the sport. This is now

many years ago, and it was then my first visit to the island. Some

places that were good spots for shooting in those days have since that

time been much disturbed, and are now no longer attractive to my eyes.

One of these places is Minneria Lake.

I was on a shooting trip accompanied by my brother, whom I will

designate as B. We had passed a toilsome day in pushing and dragging our

ponies for twenty miles along a narrow path through thick jungle, which

half-a-dozen natives in advance were opening before us with bill-hooks.

This had at one time been a good path, but was then overgrown. It is now

an acknowledged bridle road.

At 4 P.M., and eighty miles from Kandy, we emerged from the jungle, and

the view of Minneria Lake burst upon us, fully repaying us for our

day's march. It was a lovely afternoon. The waters of the lake; which

is twenty miles in circumference, were burnished by the setting sun.

The surrounding plains were as green as an English meadow, and beautiful

forest trees bordered the extreme boundaries of the plains like giant

warders of the adjoining jungle. Long promontories densely wooded

stretched far into the waters of the lake, forming sheltered nooks

and bays teeming with wild fowl. The deer browsed in herds on the wide

extent of plain, or lay beneath the shade of the spreading branches.

Every feature of lovely scenery was here presented. In some spots groves

of trees grew to the very water's edge; in others the wide plains, free

from a single stem or bush, stretched for miles along the edge of the

lake; thickly wooded hills bordered the extreme end of its waters, and

distant blue mountains mingled their dim summits with the clouds.

It was a lovely scene which we enjoyed in silence, while our ponies

feasted upon the rich grass.

The village of Minneria was three miles farther on, and our coolies,

servants, and baggage were all far behind us. We had, therefore, no

rifles or guns at hand, except a couple of shot-guns, which were carried

by our horsekeepers: for these we had a few balls.

For about half an hour we waited in the impatient expectation of the

arrival of our servants with the rifles. The afternoon was wearing away,

and they did not appear. We could wait no longer, but determined to

take a stroll and examine the country. We therefore left our horses and

proceeded.

The grass was most verdant, about the height of a field fit for the

scythe in England, but not so thick. From this the snipe arose at every

twenty or thirty paces, although, the ground was perfectly dry. Crossing

a large meadow, and skirting the banks of the lake, from which the ducks

and teal rose in large flocks, we entered a long neck of jungle which

stretched far into the lake. This was not above two hundred paces in

width, and we soon emerged upon an extensive plain bordered by fine

forest, the waters of the lake stretching far away upon our left, like a

sheet of gold. A few large rocks rose above the surface near the shore;

these were covered with various kinds of wild fowl. The principal

tenants of the plain were wild buffaloes.

A herd of about a hundred were lying in a swampy hollow about a quarter

of a mile from us: Several single bulls were dotted about the green

surface of the level plain, and on the opposite shores of the lake

were many dark patches undistinguishable in the distance; these were in

reality herds of buffaloes. There was not a sound in the wide expanse

before us, except the harsh cry of the water-fowl that our presence had

already disturbed--not a breath of air moved the leaves of the trees

which shaded us--and the whole scene was that of undisturbed nature.

The sun had now sunk low upon the horizon, and the air was comparatively

cool. The multitude of buffaloes enchanted us, and with our two light

double-barrels, we advanced to the attack of the herd before us.

We had not left the obscurity of the forest many seconds before we were

observed. The herd started up from their muddy bed and gazed at us with

astonishment. It was a fair open plain of some thousand acres, bounded

by the forest which we had just quitted on the one side, and by the lake

on the other; thus there was no cover for our advance, and all we could

do was to push on.

As we approached the herd they ranged up in a compact body, presenting

a very regular line in front. From this line seven large bulls stepped

forth, and from their vicious appearance seemed disposed to show fight.

In the meantime we were running up, and were soon within thirty paces of

them. At this distance the main body of the herd suddenly wheeled round

and thundered across the plain in full retreat. One of the bulls at the

same moment charged straight at us, but when within twenty paces of

the guns he turned to one side, and instantly received two balls in the

shoulder, B. and I having fired at the same moment. As luck would have

it, his blade-bone was thus broken, and he fell upon his knees, but

recovering himself in an instant, he retreated on three legs to the

water.

We now received assistance from an unexpected quarter. One of the large

bulls, his companions, charged after him with great fury, and soon

overtaking the wounded beast, he struck him full in the side, throwing

him over with a great shock on the muddy border of the lake. Here the

wounded animal lay unable to rise, and his conqueror commenced a slow

retreat across the plain.

Leaving B. to extinguish the wounded buffalo, I gave chase to the

retreating bull. At an easy canter he would gain a hundred paces and

then, turning, he would face me; throwing his nose up, and turning his

head to one side with a short grunt, he would advance quickly for a few

paces, and then again retreat as I continued to approach.

In this manner he led me a chase of about a mile along the banks of the

lake, but he appeared determined not to bring the fight to an issue at

close quarters. Cursing his cowardice, I fired a long shot at him, and

reloading my last spare ball I continued the chase, led on by ignorance

and excitement.

The lake in one part stretched in a narrow creek into the plain, and

the bull now directed his course into the angle formed by this turn.

I thought that I lead him in a corner, and, redoubling my exertions, I

gained upon him considerably. He retreated slowly to the very edge of

the creek, and I had gained so fast upon him that I was not thirty paces

distant, when he plunged into the water and commenced swimming across

the creek. This was not more than sixty yards in breadth, and I knew

that I could now bring him to action.

Running round the borders of the creek as fast as I could, I arrived at

the opposite side on his intended landing-place just as his black form

reared from the deep water and gained the shallows, into which I had

waded knee-deep to meet him. I now experienced that pleasure as he stood

sullenly eyeing me within fifteen paces. Poor stupid fellow! I would

willingly, in my ignorance, have betted ten to one upon the shot, so

certain was I of his death in another instant.

I took a quick but steady aim at his chest, at the point of connection

with the throat. The smoke of the barrel passed to one side;--there he

stood--he had not flinched; he literally had not moved a muscle.

The only change that had taken place was in his eye; this, which had

hitherto been merely sullen, was now beaming with fury; but his form was

as motionless as a statue. A stream of blood poured from a wound within

an inch of the spot at which I had aimed; had it not been for this fact,

I should not have believed him struck.

Annoyed at the failure of the shot, I tried him with the left-hand

barrel at the same hole. The report of the gun echoed over the lake, but

there he stood as though he bore a charmed life;--an increased flow

of blood from the wound and additional lustre in his eye were the only

signs of his being struck.

I was unloaded, and had not a single ball remaining. It was now his

turn. I dared not turn to retreat, as I knew he would immediately

charge, and we stared each other out of countenance.

With a short grunt he suddenly sprang forward, but fortunately, as I did

not move, he halted; he had, however, decreased his distance, and we now

gazed at each other within ten paces. I began to think buffalo-shooting

somewhat dangerous, and I would have given something to have been a mile

away, but ten times as much to have had my four-ounce rifle in my hand.

Oh, how I longed for that rifle in this moment of suspense! Unloaded,

without the power of defence, with the absolute certainty of a charge

from an overpowering brute, my hand instinctively found the handle of my

hunting-knife, a useless weapon against such a foe.

Knowing that B. was not aware of my situation at the distance which

separated us (about a mile), without taking my eyes from the figure

before me, I raised my hand to my mouth and gave a long and loud

whistle; this was a signal that I knew would be soon answered if heard.

With a stealthy step and another short grunt, the bull again advanced a

couple of paces towards me. He seemed aware of my helplessness, and

he was the picture of rage and fury, pawing the water and stamping

violently with his forefeet.

This was very pleasant! I gave myself up for lost, but putting as fierce

an expression into my features as I could possibly assume, I stared

hopelessly at my maddened antagonist.

Suddenly a bright thought flashed through my mind. Without taking my

eyes off the animal before me, I put a double charge of powder down the

right-hand barrel, and tearing off a piece of my shirt, I took all the

money from my pouch, three shillings in sixpenny pieces, and two anna

pieces, which I luckily had with me in this small coin for paying

coolies. Quickly making them into a rouleau with the piece of rag, I

rammed them down the barrel, and they were hardly well home before the

bull again sprang forward. So quick was it that I had no time to replace

the ramrod, and I threw it in the water, bringing my gun on full cock in

the same instant. However, he again halted, being now within about

seven paces from me, and we again gazed fixedly at each other, but with

altered feelings on my part. I had faced him hopelessly with an empty

gun for more than a quarter of an hour, which seemed a century. I now

had a charge in my gun, which I knew if reserved till he was within a

foot of the muzzle would certainly floor him, and I awaited his onset

with comparative carelessness, still keeping my eyes opposed to his

gaze.

At this time I heard a splashing in the water behind me, accompanied by

the hard breathing of something evidently distressed. The next moment I

heard B.'s voice. He could hardly speak for want of breath, having run

the whole way to my rescue, but I could understand that he had only one

barrel loaded, and no bullets left. I dared not turn my face from the

buffalo, but I cautioned B. to reserve his fire till the bull should be

close into me, and then to aim at the head.

The words were hardly uttered, when, with the concentrated rage of the

last twenty minutes, he rushed straight at me! It was the work of an

instant. B. fired without effect. The horns were lowered, their points

were on either side of me, and the muzzle of the gun barely touched his

forehead when I pulled the trigger, and three shillings' worth of small

change rattled into his hard head. Down he went, and rolled over with

the suddenly checked momentum of his charge. Away went B. and I as

fast as our heels would carry us, through the water and over the plain,

knowing that he was not dead but only stunned. There was a large fallen

tree about half a mile from us, whose whitened branches, rising high

above the ground, offered a tempting asylum. To this we directed our

flying steps, and, after a run of a hundred yards, we turned and looked

behind us. He had regained his feet and was following us slowly. We now

experienced the difference of feeling between hunting and being hunted,

and fine sport we must have afforded him.

On he came, but fortunately so stunned by the collision with her

Majesty's features upon the coin which he had dared to oppose that he

could only reel forward at a slow canter. By degrees even this pace

slackened, and he fell. We were only too glad to be able to reduce our

speed likewise, but we had no sooner stopped to breathe, than he was

again up and after us. At length, however, we gained the tree, and we

beheld him with satisfaction stretched powerless upon the ground, but

not dead, within two hundred yards of us.

We retreated under cover of the forest to the spot at which we had left

the horses, fortunately meeting no opposition from wild animals, and we

shortly arrived at the village at which we took up our quarters, vowing

vengeance on the following morning for the defeat that we had sustained.

A man is a poor defenceless wretch if left to defend himself against

wild animals with the simple natural weapons of arms, legs, and teeth. A

tom-cat would almost be a match for him. He has legs which will neither

serve him for pursuit or escape if he is forced to trust only in his

speed. He has strength of limb which is useless without some artificial

weapon. He is an animal who, without the power of reason, could not even

exist in a wild state; his brain alone gives him the strength to support

his title of lord of the creation.

Nevertheless, a lord of the creation does not appear in much majesty

when running for his life from an infuriated buffalo;--the assumed title

sits uneasily upon him when, with scarcely a breath left in his body, he

struggles along till he is ready to drop with fatigue, expecting to be

overtaken at every step. We must certainly have exhibited poor specimens

of the boasted sway of man over the brute creation could a stranger have

witnessed our flight on this occasion.

The next morning we were up at daybreak, and we returned to the

battlefield of the previous evening in the full expectation of seeing

our wounded antagonist lying dead where we had left him. In this we were

disappointed--he was gone, and we never saw him again.

I now had my long two-ounce and my four-ounce rifles with me, and I was

fully prepared for a deep revenge for the disgrace of yesterday.

The morning was clear but cloudy; a heavy thunderstorm during the night

had cooled the air, and the whole plain was glistening with bright

drops; the peacocks were shrieking from the tree-tops and spreading

their gaudy plumage to the cool breeze; and the whole face of nature

seemed refreshed. We felt the same invigorating spirit, and we took

a long survey of the many herds of buffaloes upon the plain before we

could determine which we should first attack.

A large single bull, who had been lying in a swampy hollow unobserved

by us, suddenly sprang up at about three hundred yards' distance, and

slowly cantered off. I tried the long two-ounce rifle at him, but,

taking too great an elevation, I fired over him. The report, however,

had the effect of turning him, and, instead of retreating, he wheeled

round and attempted to pass between the guns and the banks of the lake.

We were about three hundred yards from the water's edge, and he was soon

passing us at full gallop at right angles, about midway or a hundred and

fifty yards distant.

I had twelve drachms of powder in the four-ounce rifle, and I took a

flying shot at his shoulder. No visible effect was produced, and the

ball ricochetted completely across the broad surface of the lake (which

was no more than a mile wide at this part) in continuous splashes. The

gun-bearers said I had fired behind him, but I had distinctly heard the

peculiar 'fut' which a ball makes upon striking an animal, and

although the passage of the ball across the lake appeared remarkable,

nevertheless I felt positive that it had first passed through some

portion of the animal.

Away the bull sped over the plain at unabated speed for about two

hundred paces, when he suddenly turned and charged toward the guns. On

he came for about a hundred yards, but evidently slackening his speed at

every stride. At length he stopped altogether. His mouth was wide open,

and I could now distinguish a mass of bloody foam upon his lips and

nostrils--the ball had in reality passed through his lungs, and, making

its exit from the opposite shoulder, it had even then flown across the

lake. This was the proof of the effect of the twelve drachms of powder.

Having reloaded, I now advanced towards him, and soon arrived within

fifty paces. He was the facsimile of the bull that had chased us on the

previous day--the same picture of fury and determination; and, crouching

low, he advanced a few paces, keeping his eyes fixed upon us as though

we were already his own.

A short cough, accompanied by a rush of blood from his mouth, seemed to

cause him great uneasiness, and he halted.

Again we advanced till within twenty paces of him. I would not fire, as

I saw that he already had enough, and I wished to see how long he could

support a wound through the lungs, as my safety in buffalo-shooting

might in future depend upon this knowledge.

The fury of his spirit seemed to war with death, and, although reeling

with weakness and suffocation, he again attempted to come on. It was

his last effort; his eyes rolled convulsively, he gave a short grunt of

impotent rage, and the next moment he fell upon his back with his heels

in the air; he was stone dead, and game to the last moment.

I had thus commenced a revenge for the insult of yesterday; I had proved

the wonderful power of the four-ounce rifle--a weapon destined to make

great havoc amongst the heavy game of Ceylon.

Upon turning from the carcass before us, we observed to our surprise

that a large herd of buffaloes, that were at a great distance when we

had commenced the attack upon the bull, had now approached to within

a few hundred yards, and were standing in a dense mass, attentively

watching us. Without any delay we advanced towards them, and, upon

arriving within about a hundred paces, we observed that the herd was

headed by two large bulls, one of which was the largest that I had

ever seen. The whole herd was bellowing and pawing the ground. They had

winded the blood of the dead bull and appeared perfectly maddened.

We continued to advance, and we were within about ninety paces of them

when suddenly the whole herd of about two hundred buffaloes, headed by

the two bulls before noticed, dashed straight towards us at full gallop.

So simultaneous was the onset that it resembled a sudden charge of

cavalry, and the ground vibrated beneath their heavy hoofs. Their tails

were thrown high above their backs, and the mad and overpowering phalanx

of heads and horns came rushing forward as though to sweep us at once

from the face of the earth.

There was not an instant to be lost; already but a short space

intervened between us and apparently certain destruction. Our

gun-bearers were almost in the act of flight; but catching hold of the

man who carried the long two-ounce rifle, and keeping him by my side, I

awaited the irresistible onset with the four-ounce.

The largest of the bulls was some yards in advance, closely followed by

his companion, and the herd in a compact mass came thundering down at

their heels. Only fifty yards separated us; we literally felt among

them, and already experienced a sense of being over-run. I did not look

at the herd, but I kept my eye upon the big bull leader. On they flew,

and were within thirty paces of us, when I took a steady shot with the

four-ounce, and the leading bull plunged head-foremost in the turf,

turning a complete summersault. Snatching the two-ounce from the

petrified gun-bearer, I had just time for a shot as the second bull was

within fifteen paces, and at the flash of the rifle his horns ploughed

up the turf, and he lay almost at our feet. That lucky shot turned

the whole herd. When certain destruction threatened us, they suddenly

wheeled to their left when within twenty paces of the guns, and left us

astonished victors of the field. We poured an ineffectual volley into

the retreating herd from the light guns as they galloped off in full

retreat, and reloaded as quickly as possible, as the two bulls, although

floored, were still alive. They were, however, completely powerless, and

a double-barrelled gun gave each the "coup-de-grace" by a ball in the

forehead. Both rifle shots had struck at the point of junction of

the throat and chest, and the four-ounce ball had passed out of the

hind-quarter. Our friend of yesterday, although hit in precisely the

same spot, had laughed at the light guns.

Although I have since killed about two hundred wild buffaloes I have

never witnessed another charge by a herd. This was an extraordinary

occurrence, and fortunately stands alone in buffalo-shooting. Were it

not for the two heavy rifles our career might have terminated in an

unpleasant manner. As I before mentioned, this part of the country

was seldom or never disturbed at the time of which I write, and the

buffaloes were immensely numerous and particularly savage, nearly always

turning to bay and showing good sport when attacked.

Having cut out the tongues from the two bulls, we turned homeward to

breakfast. Skirting along the edge of the lake, which abounded with

small creeks, occasioning us many circuits, we came suddenly upon a

single bull, who, springing from his lair of mud and high grass, plunged

into a creek, and, swimming across, exposed himself to a dead shot as

he landed on the opposite bank about a hundred paces from us. The

four-ounce struck him in the hind-quarters and broke the hip joint, and,

continuing its course along his body, it pierced his lungs and lodged

in the skin of the throat. The bull immediately fell, but regaining

his feet he took to the water, and swam to a small island of high grass

about thirty yards from the shore. Upon gaining this he turned and faced

us, but in a few seconds he fell unable to rise, and received a merciful

shot in the head, which despatched him.

We were just leaving the border of the lake on our way to the village,

when two cow buffaloes sprang up from one of the numerous inlets and

retreated at full gallop towards the jungle, offering a splendid side

shot at about a hundred paces. The leading cow plunged head-foremost

into the grass as the four-ounce struck her through both shoulders. She

was a fine young cow, and we cut some steaks from her in case we should

find a scarcity of provisions at Minneria and, quitting the shores of

the lake, we started for breakfast.

It was only 8 A.M. when we arrived. I had bagged five buffaloes, four of

which were fine bulls. Our revenge was complete, and I had proved that

the four-ounce was perfectly irresistible if held straight with the

heavy charge of twelve drachms of powder. Since that time I have

frequently used sixteen drachms (one ounce) of powder to the charge, but

the recoil is then very severe, although the effect upon an animal with

a four-ounce steel-tipped conical ball is tremendous.

On our return to the village of Minneria we found a famous breakfast,

for which a bath in the neighbouring brook increased an appetite already

sharpened by the morning exercise. The buffalo steaks were coarse and

bad, as tough as leather, and certainly should never be eaten if better

food can be obtained. The tongues are very rich, but require salting.

In those days Minneria was not spoiled by visitors, and supplies were

accordingly at a cheap rate--large fowls at one penny each, milk at any

price that you chose to give for it. This is now much changed, and the

only thing that is still ridiculously cheap is fish.

Give a man sixpence to catch you as many as he can in the morning, and

he forthwith starts on his piscatorial errand with a large basket, cone

shaped, of two feet diameter at the bottom and about eight inches at the

top. This basket is open at both ends, and is about two feet in length.

The fish that is most sought after is the 'lola.' He is a ravenous

fellow, in appearance between a trout and a carp, having the habits of

the former, but the clumsy shoulders of the latter. He averages about

three pounds, although he is often caught of nine or ten pounds weight.

Delighting in the shallows, he lies among the weeds at the bottom,

to which he always retreats when disturbed. Aware of his habits, the

fisherman walks knee-deep in the water, and at every step he plunges the

broad end of the basket quickly to the bottom. He immediately feels the

fish strike against the sides, and putting his hand down through the

aperture in the top of the basket he captures him, and deposits him in a

basket slung on his back.

These 'lola' are delicious eating, being very like an eel in flavour,

and I have known one man catch forty in a morning with no other

apparatus than this basket.

Minneria Lake, like all others in Ceylon, swarms with crocodiles of a

very large size. Early in the morning and late in the evening they

may be seen lying upon the banks like logs of trees. I have frequently

remarked that a buffalo, shot within a few yards of the lake, has

invariably disappeared during the night, leaving an undoubted track

where he has been dragged to the water by the crocodiles. These brutes

frequently attack the natives when fishing or bathing, but I have never

heard of their pursuing any person upon dry land.

I remember an accident having occurred at Madampi, on the west coast

of Ceylon, about seven years ago, the day before I passed through

the village. A number of women were employed in cutting rushes for

mat-making, and were about mid-deep in the water. The horny tail of a

large crocodile was suddenly seen above the water among the group of

women, and in another instant one of them was seized by the thigh and

dragged towards the deeper part of the stream. In vain the terrified

creature shrieked for assistance; the horror-stricken group had rushed

to the shore, and a crowd of spectators on the bank offered no aid

beyond their cries. It was some distance before the water deepened, and

the unfortunate woman was dragged for many yards, sometimes beneath the

water, sometimes above the surface, rending the air with her screams,

until at length the deep water hid her from their view. She was never

again seen.

Some of these reptiles grow to a very large size, attaining the length

of twenty feet, and eight feet in girth, but the common size is fourteen

feet. They move slowly upon land, but are wonderfully fast and active

in the water. They usually lie in wait for their prey under some hollow

bank in a deep pool, and when the unsuspecting deer or even buffalo

stoops his head to drink, he is suddenly seized by the nose and dragged

beneath the water. Here he is speedily drowned and consumed at leisure.

The two lower and front teeth of a crocodile project through the upper

jaw, and their white points attract immediate notice as they protrude

through the brown scales on the upper lip. When the mouth is closed, the

jaws are thus absolutely locked together.

It is a common opinion that the scales on the back of a crocodile will

turn a ball; this is a vulgar error. The scales are very tough and hard,

but a ball from a common fowling-piece will pass right through the

body. I have even seen a hunting-knife driven at one blow deep into

the hardest part of the back; and this was a crocodile of a large

size, about fourteen feet long, that I shot at a place called Bolgodde,

twenty-two miles from Colombo.

A man had been setting nets for fish, and was in the act of swimming

to the shore, when he was seized and drowned by a crocodile. The next

morning two buffaloes were dragged into the water close to the spot, and

it was supposed that these murders were committed by the same crocodile.

I was at Colombo at the time, and, hearing of the accident, I rode off

to Bolgodde to try my hand at catching him.

Bolgodde is a very large lake of many miles in circumference, abounding

with crocodiles, widgeon, teal, and ducks.

On arrival that evening, the moodeliar (headman) pointed out the spot

where the man had been destroyed, and where the buffaloes had been

dragged in by the crocodile. One buffalo had been entirely devoured, but

the other had merely lost his head, and his carcass was floating in a

horrible state of decomposition near the bank. It was nearly dark, so I

engaged a small canoe to be in readiness by break of day.

Just as the light streaked the horizon I stepped into the canoe.

This required some caution, as it was the smallest thing that can be

conceived to support two persons. It consisted of the hollow trunk of

a tree, six feet in length and about one foot in diameter. A small

outrigger prevented it from upsetting, but it was not an inch from the

surface of the water when I took my narrow seat, and the native in the

stern paddled carefully towards the carcass of the buffalo.

Upon approaching within a hundred yards of the floating carcass, I

counted five forms within a few yards of the flesh. These objects were

not above nine inches square, and appeared like detached pieces of

rough bark. I knew them to be the foreheads of different crocodiles, and

presently one moved towards the half-consumed buffalo. His long head and

shoulders projected from the water as he attempted to fix his fore-claws

into the putrid flesh; this, however, rolled over towards him, and

prevented him from getting a hold; but the gaping jaws nevertheless made

a wide breach in the buffalo's flank. I was now within thirty yards of

them, and, being observed, they all dived immediately to the bottom.

The carcass was lying within a few yards of the bank, where the water

was extremely deep and clear. Several large trees grew close to the edge

and formed a good hiding-place; I therefore landed, and, sending the

canoe to a distance, I watched the water.

I had not been five minutes in this position before I saw in the water

at my feet, in a deep hole close to the bank, the immense form of a

crocodile as he was slowly rising from his hiding-place to the surface.

He appeared to be about eighteen feet long, and he projected his horny

head from the surface, bubbled, and then floated with only his forehead

and large eyes above the water. He was a horrible-looking monster, and

from his size I hoped he was the villain that had committed the late

depredations. He was within three yards of me; and, although I stood

upon the bank, his great round eyes gazed at me without a symptom of

fear. The next moment I put a two-ounce ball exactly between them, and

killed him stone dead. He gave a convulsive slap with his tail, which

made the water foam, and, turning upon his back, he gradually sank,

till at length I could only distinguish the long line of his white belly

twenty feet below me.

Not having any apparatus for bringing him to the surface, I again took

to the canoe, as a light breeze that had sprung up was gradually moving

the carcass of the buffalo away. This I slowly followed, until it at

length rested in a wide belt of rushes which grew upon the shallows near

the shore. I pushed the canoe into the rushes within four yards of the

carcass, keeping to windward to avoid the sickening smell.

I had not been long in this position before the body suddenly rolled

over as though attacked by something underneath the water, and the next

moment the tall reeds brushed against the sides of the canoe, being

violently agitated in a long line, evidently by a crocodile at the

bottom.

The native in the stern grew as pale as a black can turn with fright,

and instantly began to paddle the canoe away. This, however, I soon

replaced in its former position, and then took his paddle away to

prevent further accidents. There sat the captain of the fragile vessel

in the most abject state of terror. We were close to the shore, and the

water was not more than three feet deep, and yet he dared not jump out

of the canoe, as the rushes were again brushing against its sides, being

moved by the hidden beast at the bottom. There was no help for him,

so, after vainly imploring me to shove the canoe into deep water, he at

length sat still.

In a few minutes the body of the buffalo again moved, and the head and

shoulders of a crocodile appeared above water and took a bite of some

pounds of flesh. I could not get a shot at the head from his peculiar

position, but I put a ball through his shoulders, and immediately shoved

the canoe astern. Had I not done this, we should most likely have been

upset, as the wounded brute began to lash out with his tail in all

directions, till he at length retired to the bottom among the rushes.

Here I could easily track him, as he slowly moved along, by the movement

of the reeds. Giving the native the paddle, I now by threats induced him

to keep the canoe over the very spot where the rushes were moving, and

we slowly followed on the track, while I kept watch in the bow of the

canoe with a rifle.

Suddenly the movement in the rushes ceased, and the canoe stopped

accordingly. I leaned slightly over the side to look into the water,

when up came a large air-bubble, and directly afterwards an apparition

in the shape of some fifteen pounds of putrid flesh. The stench was

frightful, but I knew my friend must be very bad down below to disgorge

so sweet a morsel. I therefore took the paddle and poked for him; the

water being shallow, I felt him immediately. Again the rushes moved; I

felt the paddle twist as his scaly back glided under it, and a pair of

gaping jaws appeared above the water, wide open and within two feet of

the canoe. The next moment his head appeared, and the two-ounce ball

shattered his brain. He sank to the bottom, the rushes moved slightly

and were then still.

I now put the canoe ashore, and cutting a strong stick, with a crook at

one end, I again put out to the spot and dragged for him. He was quite

dead; and catching him under the fore-leg, I soon brought him gently to

the surface of the water. I now made fast a line to his fore-leg, and we

towed him slowly to the village, the canoe being level with the water's

edge.

His weight in the water was a mere trifle, but on arrival at the village

on the banks of the lake, the villagers turned out with great glee,

and fastened ropes to different parts of his body to drag him out. This

operation employed about twenty men. The beast was about fourteen feet

long; and he was no sooner on shore than the natives cut him to pieces

with axes, and threw the sections into the lake to be devoured by his

own species. This was a savage kind of revenge, which appeared to afford

them great satisfaction.

Taking a large canoe, I paddled along the shores of the lake with

a shot-gun, and made a good bag of ducks and teal, and returned to

breakfast. The fatness and flavour of the wild ducks in Ceylon are quite

equal to the best in England.

CHAPTER IV.

Equipment for a Hunting Trip--In Chase of a Herd of Buffaloes--Hard

Work--Close Quarters--Six Feet from the Muzzle--A Black with a Devil.

There is one thing necessary to the enjoyment of sport in Ceylon, and

without which no amount of game can afford thorough pleasure; this is

personal comfort. Unlike a temperate climate, where mere attendance

becomes a luxury, the pursuit of game in a tropical country is attended

with immense fatigue and exhaustion. The intense heat of the sun, the

dense and suffocating exhalations from swampy districts, the constant

and irritating attacks from insects, all form drawbacks to sport that

can only be lessened by excellent servants and by the most perfect

arrangements for shelter and supplies. I have tried all methods of

travelling, and I generally manage to combine good sport with every

comfort and convenience.

A good tent, perfectly waterproof, and of so light a construction as to

travel with only two bearers, is absolutely indispensable. My tent is on

the principle of an umbrella, fifteen feet in diameter, and will house

three persons comfortably. A circular table fits in two halves round

the tent-pole; three folding chairs have ample space; three beds can be

arranged round the tent walls; the boxes of clothes, etc., stow under

the beds; and a dressing-table and gun-rack complete the furniture.

Next in importance to the tent is a good canteen. Mine is made of

japanned block tin, and contains in close-fitting compartments an entire

dinner and breakfast service for three persons, including everything

that can be required in an ordinary establishment. This is slung upon a

bamboo, carried by two coolies.

Clothes must always be packed in tin boxes, or the whole case will most

likely be devoured by white ants.

Cooking utensils must be carried in abundance, together with a lantern,

axe, bill-hook, tinder-box, matches, candles, oil, tea, coffee, sugar,

biscuits, wine, brandy, sauces, etc., a few hams, some tins of preserved

meats and soups, and a few bottles of curacea, a glass of which, in

the early dawn, after a cup of hot coffee and a biscuit, is a fine

preparation for a day's work.

I once tried the rough system of travelling, and started off with

nothing but my guns, clothes, a box of biscuits, and a few bottles

of brandy--no bed, no pillow, no tent nor chairs or table, but, as my

distressed servant said, 'no nothing.' This was many years ago, when

the excitement of wild sports was sufficient to laugh at discomfort.

I literally depended upon my gun for food, and my cooking utensils

consisted of one saucepan and a gridiron, a 'stew' and a 'fry' being all

that I looked forward to in the way of gourmandism. Sleeping on the bare

ground in native huts, dining cross-legged upon mother earth, with a

large leaf as a substitute for a plate, a cocoa-nut shell for a glass,

my hunting-knife comprising all my cutlery, I thus passed through a

large district of wild country, accompanied by B., and I never had more

exciting sport.

It was on this occasion that I had a memorable hunt in the neighbourhood

of Narlande, within thirty miles of Kandy. It was our first day's

stage, and, upon our arrival, at about 2 P.M., we left our guns at the

post-holder's hut, while we proceeded to the river to bathe.

We were hardly dressed before a native came running to tell us that

several elephants were devouring his crop of korrakan--a grain something

like clover-seed, upon which the people in this part almost entirely

subsist.

Without a moment's delay we sent for the guns. The post-holder was a

good tracker, and a few minutes of sharp walking through a path bordered

on either side by dense thorny bush brought us to a chena jungle ground,

or cultivated field. The different watch-houses erected in the large

trees were full of people, who were shrieking and yelling at the top of

their voices, having just succeeded in scaring the elephants into the

jungle.

The whole of the country in this neighbourhood has, in successive ages,

been cleared and cultivated: the forest has been felled. The poverty

of the soil yields only one crop, and the lately cleared field is again

restored to nature. Dense thorny jungle immediately springs up, which a

man cannot penetrate without being torn to pieces by the briars. This is

called chena jungle, and is always the favourite resort of elephants and

all wild animals, the impervious character of the bush forming a secure

retreat.

From these haunts the elephants commit nocturnal descents upon the crops

of the natives. The korrakan is a sweet grass, growing about two feet

high, and so partial are the elephants to this food that they will

invade the isolated field even during the daytime. Driven out by shouts

and by shots fired by the natives from their secure watch-houses, they

will retreat to their cover, but in a few minutes they reappear from

another part of the jungle and again commence their depredations.

The havoc committed by a large herd of elephants can well be imagined.

In this instance there were only three elephants--a large bull, with a

mother and her young one, or what we call a 'poonchy.' On entering the

korrakan field we distinctly heard them breaking the boughs at no great

distance. We waited for some time to see if they would return to the

field; but they apparently were aware of some impending danger, as they

did not move from their strong position. This was a cunning family of

elephants, as they had retreated 'down wind,' and the jungle being so

thick that we could with difficulty follow even upon their track, made

it very doubtful whether we should kill them.

We cautiously entered. It was one mass of thorns, and we were shortly

compelled to crawl upon our hands and knees. This was arduous work,

as we had great difficulty in carrying the guns so as to avoid the

slightest noise. I was leading the way, and could distinctly hear the

rustling of the leaves as the elephants moved their ears. We were now

within a few feet of them, but not an inch of their bodies could be

seen, so effectually were they hidden by the thick jungle. Suddenly we

heard the prolonged wh-r-r, wh-r-r-r-r-r, as one of the elephants winded

us: the shrill trumpet sounded in another direction, and the crash

through the jungle took place which nothing but an elephant can produce.

In such dense jungle, where the elephants are invisible, this crash is

most exciting if close at hand, as in the present instance.

It is at the first burst impossible to tell whether the elephant is

coming at you or rushing away. In either case it is extremely dangerous,

as these chena jungles are almost devoid of trees; thus there is no

cover of sufficient strength to protect a man should he attempt to jump

on one side, and he may even be run over by accident.

A few moments assured us of their retreat, and we instantly followed

upon their track, running at full speed along the lane which they had

crushed in their headlong flight. This was no easy matter; the jungle

itself was certainly broken down, but innumerable hooked thorns, hanging

from rope-like creepers, which had been torn down by the rush of the

elephants, caught us upon every side. In a few minutes our clothes were

in rags, and we were bleeding from countless scratches, but we continued

the chase as fast as we could run upon the track. The prickly cactus

which abounds in these jungles, and grows to the height of twenty feet,

in some places checked us for a few moments, being crushed into a heap

by the horny-footed beasts before us. These obstacles overcome, we again

pushed on at a rapid pace, occasionally listening for a sound of the

retreating game.

We now observed that the herd had separated; the bull had gone off in

one direction, and the female with her half-grown poonchy in another.

Following the latter, we again pushed on at a quick run, as the

elephants had evidently gone off at a great pace and were far in

advance. For about half an hour we had continued the pursuit at the same

speed, when we suddenly heard the warning wh-r-r-r-r as the elephants

winded us at a distance of 200 yards, and the crash instantly following

this sound told us too plainly that the game was fearfully on the alert,

and gave us little hopes of overtaking them, as they were travelling

directly down wind.

Speed was our only chance, and again we rushed forward in hot pursuit

through the tangled briars, which yielded to our weight, although we

were almost stripped of clothes. Another half hour passed, and we

had heard no further signs of the game. We stopped to breathe, and we

listened attentively for the slightest sound. A sudden crash in the

jungle at a great distance assured us that we were once more discovered.

The chase seemed hopeless; the heat was most oppressive; and we had been

running for the last hour at a killing pace through a most distressing

country. Once more, however, we started off, determined to keep up the

pursuit as long as daylight would permit. It was now 5 P.M., and we

had one hour left before darkness would set in. The wind had entirely

ceased, leaving a perfect calm; the air was thick and heavy, and the

heat was thus rendered doubly fatiguing. We noticed, however, that the

track of the elephants had doubled back instead of continuing in the

direct line that we had followed so long. This gave us hope, as the

elephants no longer had the advantage of the wind, and we pushed on as

fast as we could go.

It was about half an hour before dusk, and our patience and hopes were

alike exhausted, when we suddenly once more heard the wh-r-r-r of the

elephants winding us within a hundred yards. It was our last chance, and

with redoubled speed we rushed after them.

Suddenly we broke from the high jungle in which we had been for the last

two hours, and found ourselves in a chena jungle of two years' growth,

about five feet high, but so thick and thorny that it resembled one vast

blackthorn hedge, through which no man could move except in the track of

the retreating elephants.

To my delight, on entering this low jungle, I saw the female at about

forty yards' distance, making off at a great pace. I had a light

double-barrelled gun in my hand, and, in the hopes of checking her pace,

I fired a flying shot at her ear. She had been hunted so long that she

was well inclined to fight, and she immediately slackened her speed so

much that in a few instants I was at her tail, so close that I could

have slapped her. Still she ploughed her way through the thick thorns,

and not being able to pass her owing to the barrier of jungle, I could

only follow close at her heels and take my chance of a shot. At length,

losing all patience, I fired my remaining barrel under her tail, giving

it an upward direction in the hope of disabling her spine.

A cloud of smoke hung over me for a second, and, throwing my empty

gun on one side, I put my hand behind me for a spare rifle. I felt the

welcome barrel pushed into my hand at the same moment that I saw the

infuriated head of the elephant with ears cocked charging through

the smoke! It was the work of an instant. I had just time to cock the

two-ounce rifle and take a steady aim. The next moment we were in a

cloud of smoke, but as I fired, I felt certain of her. The smoke cleared

from the thick bushes, and she lay dead at SIX FEET from the spot where

I stood. The ball was in the centre of her forehead, and B., who had

fired over my shoulder so instantaneously with me that I was not aware

of it, had placed his ball within three inches of mine. Had she been

missed, I should have fired my last shot.

This had been a glorious hunt; many miles had been gone over, but by

great luck, when the wind dropped and the elephant altered her course,

she had been making a circuit for the very field of korrakan at which

we had first found her. We were thus not more than three miles from our

resting-place, and the trackers who know every inch of the country, soon

brought us to the main road.

The poonchy and the bull elephant, having both separated from the

female, escaped.

One great cause of danger in shooting in thick jungles is the obscurity

occasioned by the smoke of the first barrel; this cannot escape from the

surrounding bushes for some time, and effectually prevents a certain aim

with the remaining barrel. In wet weather this is much increased.

For my own part I dislike shooting in thick jungles, and I very seldom

do so. It is extremely dangerous, and is like shooting in the dark; you

never see the game until you can almost touch it, and the labour

and pain of following up elephants through thorny jungle is beyond

description.

On our return to the post-holder's hut we dined and prepared for sleep.

It was a calm night, and not a sound disturbed the stillness of the air.

The tired coolies and servants were fast asleep, the lamp burnt dimly,

being scantily fed with oil, and we were in the act of lying down to

rest when a frightful scream made us spring to our feet. There was

something so unearthly in the yell that we could hardly believe it

human. The next moment a figure bounded into the little room that we

occupied. It was a black, stark naked. His tongue, half bitten through,

protruded from his mouth; his bloodshot eyes, with a ghastly stare, were

straining from their sockets, and he stood gazing at us with his arms

extended wide apart. Another horrible scream burst from him, and he fell

flat upon his back.

The post-holder and a whole crowd of awakened coolies now assembled, and

they all at once declared that the man had a devil. The fact is, he had

a fit of epilepsy, and his convulsions were terrible. Without moving

a limb he flapped here and there like a salmon when just landed. I had

nothing with me that would relieve him, and I therefore left him to

the hands of the post-holder, who prided himself upon his skill in

exorcising devils. All his incantations produced no effect, and the

unfortunate patient suddenly sprang to his feet and rushed madly into

the thorny jungle. In this we heard him crashing through like a wild

beast, and I do not know to this day whether he was ever heard of

afterwards.

The Cingalese have a thorough belief in the presence of devils; one sect

are actually 'devil-WORSHIPPERS,' but the greater portion of the

natives are Bhuddists. Among this nation the missionaries make very slow

progress. There is no character to work upon in the Cingalese: they are

faithless, cunning, treacherous, and abject cowards; superstitious in

the extreme, and yet unbelieving in any one God. A converted Bhuddist

will address his prayers to our God if he thinks he can obtain any

temporal benefit by so doing, but, if not, he would be just as likely to

pray to Bhudda or to the devil.

I once saw a sample of heathen conversion in Ceylon that was enough to

dishearten a missionary.

A Roman Catholic chapel had been erected in a wild part of the country

by some zealous missionary, who prided himself upon the number of his

converts. He left his chapel during a few weeks' absence in some other

district, during which time his converts paid their devotion to the

Christian altar. They had made a few little additions to the ornaments

of the altar, which must have astonished the priest on his return.

There was an image of our Saviour and the **Virgin:** that was all

according to custom. But there were also 'three images of Bhudda,' a

coloured plaster-of-Paris image of the Queen and Prince Albert upon the

altar, and a very questionable penny print in vivid colours hanging over

the altar, entitled the 'Stolen Kiss.' So much for the conversion of the

heathen in Ceylon. The attempt should only be made in the schools, where

the children may be brought up as Christians, but the idea of converting

the grown-up heathen is a fallacy.

CHAPTER V.

The Four-ounce again--Tidings of a Rogue--Approaching a Tank Rogue--An

Exciting Moment--Ruins of Pollanarua--Ancient Ruins--Rogues at

Doolana--B. Charged by a Rogue--Planning an Attack--A Check--Narrow

Escape--Rogue-stalking--A Bad Rogue--Dangers of Elephant-shooting--The

Rhatamahatmeya's Tale.

A broken nipple in my long two-ounce rifle took me to Trincomalee, about

seventy miles out of my proposed route. Here I had it punched out and

replaced with a new one, which I fortunately had with me. No one who

has not experienced the loss can imagine the disgust occasioned by an

accident to a favourite rifle in a wild country. A spare nipple and

mainspring for each barrel and lock should always be taken on a shooting

trip.

In passing by Kandelly, on my return from Trincomalee, I paid a second

visit to the lake. This is very similar to that of Minneria; but the

shooting at that time was destroyed from the same cause which has since

ruined Minneria--'too many guns.' The buffaloes were not worthy of the

name; I could not make one show fight, nor could I even get within three

hundred yards of them. I returned from the plain with disgust; but just

as I was quitting the shores of the lake I noticed three buffaloes in

the shallows about knee-deep in the water, nearly half a mile from me.

They did not look bigger than dogs, the distance was so great.

There is nothing like a sheet of water for trying a rifle; the splash of

the ball shows with such distinctness the accuracy or the defect in the

shooting. It was necessary that I should fire my guns off in order to

clean them that evening: I therefore tried their power at this immense

distance.

The long two-ounce fell short, but in a good line. I took a rest upon

a man's shoulder with the four-ounce rifle, and, putting up the last

sight, I aimed at the leading buffalo, who was walking through the water

parallel with us. I aimed at the outline of the throat, to allow for his

pace at this great distance. The recoil of the rifle cut the man's ear

open, as there were sixteen drachms of powder in this charge.

We watched the smooth surface of the water as the invisible messenger

whistled over the lake. Certainly three seconds elapsed before we saw

the slightest effect. At the expiration of that time the buffalo fell

suddenly in a sitting position, and there he remained fixed, many

seconds after, a dull sound returned to our ears; it was the 'fut' of

the ball, which had positively struck him at this immense range. What

the distance was I cannot say; it may have been 600 yards, or 800,

or more. It was shallow water the whole way: we therefore mounted our

horses and rode up to him. Upon reaching him, I gave him a settling ball

in the head, and we examined him. The heavy ball had passed completely

through his hips, crushing both joints, and, of course, rendering him

powerless at once.

The shore appeared full half a mile from us on our return, and I could

hardly credit my own eyes, the distance was so immense, and yet the ball

had passed clean through the animal's body.

It was of course a chance shot, and, even with this acknowledgment,

it must appear rather like the 'marvellous' to a stranger;--this is my

misfortune, not my fault. I certainly never made such a shot before or

since; it was a sheer lucky hit, say at 600 yards; and the wonderful

power of the rifle was thus displayed in the ball perforating the large

body of the buffalo at this range. This shot was made with a round

ball, not a cone. The round belted ball for this heavy two-grooved rifle

weighs three ounces. The conical ball weighs a little more than four

ounces.

While describing the long shots performed by this particular rifle, I

cannot help recounting a curious chance with a large rogue elephant

in Topari tank. This tank or lake is, like most others in Ceylon, the

result of vast labour in past ages. Valleys were closed in by immense

dams of solid masonry, which, checking the course of the rivers, formed

lakes of many miles in extent. These were used as reservoirs for the

water required for the irrigation of rice lands. The population who

effected these extensive works have long since passed away; their fate

is involved in mystery. The records of their ancient cities still exist,

but we have no account of their destruction. The ruins of one of these

cities, Pollanarua, are within half a mile of the village of Topari, and

the waters of the adjacent lake are still confined by a dam of two miles

in length, composed of solid masonry. When the lake is full, it is about

eight miles in circumference.

I had only just arrived at the village, and my horse-keeper had taken

the horse to drink at the lake, when he suddenly came running back to

say that a rogue elephant was bathing himself on the opposite shore, at

about two miles' distance.

I immediately took my guns and went after him. My path lay along the

top of the great dam, which formed a causeway covered with jungle. This

causeway was about sixty feet in breadth and two miles in length; the

lake washed its base about twenty feet below the summit. The opposite

shore was a fine plain, bordered by open forest, and the lake spread

into the grassy surface in wide and irregular bays.

I continued my course along the causeway at a fast walk, and on arriving

at the extremity of the lake, I noticed that the ancient dam continued

for a much greater distance. This, together with the great height of the

masonry from the level of the water, proved that the dimensions of the

tank had formerly been of much greater extent.

Descending by the rugged stones which formed the dam wall I reached the

plain, and, keeping close to the water's edge, I rounded a large neck

of land covered with trees, which projected for some distance into the

lake. I knew, by the position of the elephant, when I first saw him,

that he was not far beyond this promontory, and I carefully advanced

through the open forest, hoping that I might meet him there on his

exit from his bath. In this I was mistaken, for on passing through this

little belt of trees I saw the elephant still in the lake, belly-deep,

about 300 paces from me. He was full 120 yards from the shore, and I was

puzzled how to act. He was an immense brute, being a fine specimen of

a tank 'rogue.' This class are generally the worst description of rogue

elephants, who seldom move far from the lakes, but infest the shores

for many years. Being quite alone, with the exception of two worthless

gun-bearers, the plan of attack required some consideration.

The belt of trees in which I stood was the nearest piece of cover to the

elephant, the main jungle being about a quarter of a mile from the shore

of the lake. In the event of a retreat being necessary, this cover would

therefore be my point. There was a large tamarind-tree growing alone

upon the plain about a hundred and fifty paces from the water's edge,

exactly in a line with the position of the elephant. The mud plastered

to a great height upon the stem showed this to be his favourite

rubbing-post after bathing.

Having determined upon my plan of attack, I took the guns from the

gun-bearers and sent the men up the tree, as I knew they would run away

in the event of danger, and would most probably take the guns with

them in their flight. Having thus secured the arms, I placed the long

two-ounce against a large and conspicuous tree that grew upon the

extreme edge of the forest, and I cautiously advanced over the open

plain with my two remaining guns, one of which I deposited against the

stem of the single tamarind-tree. I had thus two points for a defensive

retreat, should it be necessary.

I had experienced considerable difficulty in attaining my position at

the tamarind-tree without being observed by the elephant; fortunately,

I had both the wind and the sun favourable, the latter shining from my

back full into the lake.

The elephant was standing with his back to the shore exactly in a line

with me, and he was swinging his great head from side to side, and

flapping his ears in the enjoyment of his bath. I left the tree with my

four-ounce rile, and, keeping in a direct line for his hind-quarters,

I walked towards him. The grass was soft and short; I could therefore

approach without the slightest noise: the only danger of being

discovered was in the chance that I might be seen as he swung his head

continually on either side. This I avoided by altering my course as I

saw his head in the act of coming round, and I soon stood on the edge of

the lake exactly behind him, at about 120 yards. He was a noble-looking

fellow, every inch a rogue, his head almost white with numerous

flesh-coloured spots. These give a savage and disgusting appearance

to an elephant, and altogether he looked a formidable opponent. I had

intended to shout on arriving at my present position, and then to

wait for the front shot as he charged; but on looking back to the

tamarind-tree and my proposed course for retreat, the distance appeared

so great, rendered still more difficult by a gradual ascent, that I felt

it would be impossible to escape if my chance lay in running. I hardly

knew what to do; I had evidently caught a 'Tartar.'

His head was perpetually swinging to and fro, and I was of course

accordingly altering my position to avoid his eye. At one of these

half turns he flapped his right ear just as his head came round, and I

observed a perfectly white mark, the size of a saucer, behind the ear,

in the exact spot for a fatal shot. I at once determined to try it, even

at this distance; at all events, if it failed, and he should charge, I

had a fair start, and by getting the spare gun from the tamarind-tree I

could make a defence at the cover.

His attention was completely absorbed in a luxurious repast upon a bed

of the succulent lotus. He tore up bunches of the broad leaves and snaky

stalks, and, washing them carefully with his trunk, he crushed the juicy

stems, stuffing the tangled mass into his mouth as a savage would eat

maccaroni. Round swung his head once more, the ear flapped, the mark was

exposed, but the ear again concealed it just as I had raised the rifle.

This happened several times, but I waited patiently for a good chance,

being prepared for a run the moment after firing.

Once more his head swung towards me: the sun shone full upon him, and I

raised the rifle to be ready for him if he gave me the chance. His ear

flapped forward just as his head was at a proper angle for a shot. The

mark shone brightly along the sights of the rifle as I took a steady

aim; the answer to the report of the gun was--a dull splash!

He had sunk upon his knees stone dead. I could hardly believe my eyes.

The sight of so large an animal being killed at such a distance by one

shot had an extraordinary effect. I heard a heathenish scream of

joy behind me, and upon turning round I perceived the now courageous

gun-bearers running towards me at their best pace. They were two of

the Topari villagers, and had been perfectly aghast at the idea of one

person, with only a single-barrelled rifle, attacking a tank rogue in

the open plain. The sequel had turned their fear into astonishment. They

now had the laugh at me, however, as they swam fearlessly up to the

dead elephant to cut off his tail, which I would not have done for any

reward, for fear of crocodiles, which abound in the tank. The ball had

struck the white mark exactly in the centre, which pleased these natives

exceedingly, and they returned in safety with the tail.

I have frequently tried these long shots since, but I never succeeded

again except once, and that was not satisfactory, as the elephant did

not die upon the spot, but was found by the natives on the following

day.

On my return to the village I took a shot-gun and strolled along the

banks of the lake. The snipe were innumerable, and I killed them till my

head ached with the constant recoil of the gun in addition to the

heat. I also killed several couple of ducks and teal in addition to

twenty-eight couple of snipe. This was the Paradise for sport at the

time of which I write. It had never been disturbed: but it has since

shared the fate of many other places.

The open forest in the vicinity of the lake abounded with deer. Grassy

glades beneath the shady trees give a park-like appearance to the scene,

and afford a delightful resort for the deer.

In strolling through these shady glades you suddenly arrive among the

ruins of ancient Pollanarua. The palaces are crumbled into shapeless

mounds of bricks. Massive pillars, formed of a single stone, twelve feet

high, stand in upright rows throughout the jungle here and there over an

extent of some miles. The buildings which they once supported have long

since fallen, and the pillars now stand like tombstones over vanished

magnificence. Some buildings are still standing; among these are two

dagobas, huge monuments of bricks, formerly covered with white cement,

and elaborately decorated with different devices. These are shaped like

an egg that has been cut nearly in half, and then placed upon its base;

but the cement has perished, and they are mounds of jungle and rank

grass which has overgrown them, although the large dagoba is upwards of

a hundred feet high.

A curious temple, formed on the imperishable principle of excavating

in the solid rock, is in perfect preservation, and is still used by the

natives as a place of worship: this is presided over by a priest. Three

large images of Bhudda, carved out of solid rock, occupy the positions

in which he is always represented; that in the recumbent posture is

fifty-six feet long, cut from one stone.

I was strolling through these ruins when I suddenly saw a spotted doe

feeding among the upright pillars before mentioned. I was within twenty

yards of her before she was aware of my vicinity, and I bagged her by

a shot with a double-barrelled gun. At the report of the gun a herd of

about thirty deer, which were concealed amongst the ruins, rushed close

by me, and I bagged another doe with the remaining barrel.

The whole of this country must at one time have been densely populated;

perhaps this very density may have produced pestilence, which swept away

the inhabitants. The city has been in ruins for about 600 years, and

was founded about 300 years B.C. Some idea of the former extent of the

Ceylon antiquities may be formed from the present size of the ruins.

Those of Anarajapoora are sixteen miles square, comprising a surface

of 256 square miles. Those of Pollanarua are much smaller, but they are

nevertheless of great extent.

The inhabitants of the present village of Topari are a poor squalid

race; and if they are descended in a direct line from the ancient

occupants of the city, they are as much degenerated in character and

habits as the city itself is ruined in architecture. Few countries can

be more thinly populated than Ceylon, and yet we have these numerous

proofs of a powerful nation having once existed. Wherever these lakes or

tanks exist in the present day, a populous country once flourished. In

all countries which are subject to months of drought, a supply of water

is the first consideration, or cultivation must cease. This was the

object in forming the tanks, which are especially numerous throughout

the Tambancadua district. These tank countries afford a great diversity

of sport, as they all abound with wild fowl, and snipe in their season

(from November to May). During the time of drought they are always

the resort of every kind of wild animal, which are forced to the

neighbourhood for a supply of water.

The next tank to Topari is that of Doolana; this is eight miles from the

former, and is about the same extent. In this district there are no less

than eight of these large lakes. Their attractions to rogue elephants

having been explained, it may be readily understood that these gentry

abound throughout the district. I shall, therefore, select a few

incidents that have happened to me in these localities, which will

afford excellent illustrations of the habits of 'rogues.'