Curious Phenomenon--Panorama of Ouva--South-west Monsoon--Hunting
Followers--Fort M'Donald--River--Jungle Paths--Dangerous
Locality--Great Waterfall--Start for Hunting--The Find--A Gallant
Stag--"Bran" and "Lucifer"--"Phrenzy's" Death--Buck at Bay--The Cave
Hunting-box--"Madcap's" Dive--Elk Soup--Former Inundation--"Bluebeard"
leads off--"Hecate's" Course--The Elk's Leap--Variety of Deer--The
Axis--Ceylon Bears--Variety of Vermin--Trials for Hounds--Hounds and
their Masters--A Sportsman "shut up"--A Corporal and Centipede.
From June to November the south-west monsoon brings wind and mist
across the Newera Ellia mountains.
Clouds of white fog boil up from the Dimboola valley like the steam
from a huge cauldron, and invade the Newera Ellia plain through the
gaps in the mountains to the westward.
The wind howls over the high ridges, cutting the jungle with its keen
edge, so that it remains as stunted brushwood, and the opaque screen of
driving fog and drizzling rain is so dense that one feels convinced
there is no sun visible within at least a hundred miles.
There is a curious phenomenon, however, in this locality. When the
weather described prevails at Newera Ellia, there is actually not one
drop of rain within four miles of my house in the direction of Badulla.
Dusty roads, a cloudless sky and dazzling sunshine astonish the
thoroughly-soaked traveler, who rides out of the rain and mist into a
genial climate, as though he passed through a curtain. The wet weather
terminates at a mountain called Hackgalla (or more properly
Yakkadagalla, or iron rock). This bold rock, whose summit is about six
thousand five hundred feet above the sea, breasts the driving wind and
seems to command the storm. The rushing clouds halt in their mad
course upon its crest and curl in sudden impotence around the craggy
summits. The deep ravine formed by an opposite mountain is filled with
the vanquished mist, which sinks powerless in its dark gorge; and the
bright sun, shining from the east, spreads a perpetual rainbow upon the
gauze-like cloud of fog which settles in the deep hollow.
This is exceedingly beautiful. The perfect circle of the rainbow
stands like a fairy spell in the giddy depth of the hollow, and seems
to forbid the advance of the monsoon. All before is bright and
cloudless; the lovely panorama of the Ouva country spreads before the
eye for many miles beneath the feet. All behind is dark and stormy;
the wind is howling, the forests are groaning, the rain is pelting upon
the hills.
The change appears impossible; but there it is, ever the same; season
after season, year after year, the rugged top of Hackgalla struggles
with the storms, and ever victorious the cliffs smile in the sunshine
on the eastern side; the rainbow reappears with the monsoon, and its
vivid circle remains like the guardian spirit of the valley.
It is impossible to do justice to the extraordinary appearance of this
scene by description. The panoramic view in itself is celebrated; but
as the point in the road is reached where the termination of the
monsoon dissolves the cloud and rain into a thin veil of mist, the
panorama seen through the gauze-like atmosphere has the exact
appearance of a dissolving view; the depth, the height and distance of
every object, all great in reality, are magnified by the dim and
unnatural appearance; and by a few steps onward the veil gradually
fades away, and the distant prospect lies before the eye with a glassy
clearness made doubly striking by the sudden contrast.
The road winds along about midway up the mountain, bounded on the right
by the towering cliffs and sloping forest of Hackgalla, and on the left
by the almost precipitous descent of nearly one thousand feet, the
sides of which are clothed by alternate forest and waving grass. At
the bottom flows a torrent, whose roar, ascending from the hidden
depth, increases the gloomy mystery of the scene.
On the north, east and south-east of Newera Ellia the sunshine is
perpetual during the reign of the misty atmosphere, which the
south-west monsoon drives upon the western side of the mountains. Thus,
there is always an escape open from the wet season at Newera Ellia by a
short walk of three or four miles.
A long line of dark cloud is then seen, terminated by a bright blue
sky. So abrupt is the line and the cessation of the rain that it is
difficult to imagine how the moisture is absorbed.
This sudden termination of the cloud-capped mountain gives rise to a
violent wind in the sunny valleys and bare hills beneath. The chilled
air of Newera Ellia pours down into the sun-warmed atmosphere below,
and creates a gale that sweeps across the grassy hilltops with great
force, giving the sturdy rhododendrons an inclination to the north-east
which clearly marks the steadiness of the monsoon.
It is not to be supposed, however, that Newera Ellia lies in unbroken
gloom for months together. One month generally brings a share of
uninterrupted bad weather; this is from the middle of June to the
middle of July. This is the commencement of the south-west monsoon,
which usually sets in with great violence. The remaining portion of
what is called the wet season, till the end of November, is about as
uncertain as the climate of England--some days fine, others wet, and
every now and then a week of rain at one bout.
A thoroughly saturated soil, with a cold wind, and driving rain and
forests as full of water as sponges, are certain destroyers of scent;
hence, hunting at Newera Ellia is out of the question during such
weather. The hounds would get sadly out of condition, were it not for
the fine weather in the vicinity which then invites a trip.
I have frequently walked ten miles to my hunting grounds, starting
before daybreak, and then after a good day's sport up and down the
steep mountains, I have returned home in the evening. But this is
twelve hours' work, and it is game thrown away, as there is no
possibility of getting the dead elk home. An animal that weighs between
four hundred and four hundred and fifty pounds without his insides, is
not a very easy creature to move; at any time, especially in such a
steep mountainous country as the neighborhood of Newera Ellia. As
previously described, at the base of the mountains are cultivated
rice-lands, generally known as paddy-fields, where numerous villages
have sprung up from the facility with which a supply of water is
obtained from the wild mountains above them. I have so frequently
given the people elk and hogs which I have killed on the heights above
their paddy-fields that they are always on the alert at the sound of
the bugle, and a few blasts from the mountain-top immediately creates a
race up from the villages, some two or three thousand feet below. Like
vultures scenting carrion, they know that an elk is killed, and they
start off to the well-known sound like a pack of trained hounds. Being
thorough mountaineers, they are extraordinary fellows for climbing the
steep grassy sides. With a light stick about six feet long in one
hand, they will start from the base of the mountains and clamber up the
hillsides in a surprisingly short space of time, such as would soon
take the conceit out of a "would-be pedestrian." This is owing to the
natural advantages of naked feet and no inexpressibles.
Whenever an elk has given a long run in the direction of this country,
and after a persevering and arduous chase of many hours, I have at
length killed him on the grassy heights above the villages, I always
take a delight in watching the tiny specks issuing from the green
strips of paddy as the natives start off at the sound of the horn.
At this altitude, it requires a sharp eye to discern a man, but at
length they are seen scrambling up the ravines and gullies and
breasting the sharp pitches, until at last the first man arrives
thoroughly used up and a string of fellows of lesser wind come in, in
sections, all thoroughly blown.
However, the first man in never gets the lion's share, as the poor old
men, with willing spirits and weak flesh, always bring up the rear, and
I insist upon a fair division between the old and young, always giving
an extra piece to a man who happens to know a little English. This is
a sort of reward for acquirements, equivalent to a university degree,
and he is considered a literary character by his fellows.
There is nothing that these people appreciate so much as elk and hog's
flesh. Living generally upon boiled rice and curry composed of
pumpkins and sweet potatoes, they have no opportunities of tasting meat
unless upon these occasions.
During the very wet weather at Newera Ellia I sometimes take the pack
and bivouac for a fortnight in the fine-weather country. About a week
previous I send down word to the village people of my intention, but
upon these occasions I never give them the elk. I always insist upon
their bringing rice, etc., for the dogs and myself in exchange for
venison, otherwise I should have some hundreds of noisy, idle vagabonds
flocking up to me like carrion-crows.
Of course I give them splendid bargains, as I barter simply on the
principle that no man shall come for nothing. Thus, if a man assist in
building the kennel, or carrying a load, or cutting bed-grass, or
searching for lost hounds, he gets a share of meat. The others bring
rice, coffee, fowls, eggs, plantains, vegetables, etc., which I take at
ridiculous rates-a bushel of rice for a full-grown elk, etc., the
latter being worth a couple of pounds and the rice about seven
shillings. Thus the hounds keep themselves in rice and supply me with
everything that I require during the trip, at the same time gratifying
the natives.
The direct route to this country was unknown to Europeans at Newera
Ellia until I discovered it one day, accidentally, in following the
hounds.
A large tract of jungle-covered hill stretches away from the Moon
Plains at Newera Ellia toward the east, forming a hog's back of about
three and a half miles in length. Upon the north side this shelves
into a deep gorge, at the bottom of which flows, or rather tumbles,
Fort M'Donald river on its way to the low country, through
forest-covered hills and perpendicular cliffs, until it reaches the
precipitous patina mountains, when, in a succession of large cataracts,
it reaches the paddy-fields in the first village of Peréwellé (guava
paddy-field). Thus the river in the gorge below runs parallel to the
long hog's back of mountain. This is bordered on the other side by
another ravine and smaller torrent, to which the Badulla road runs
parallel until it reaches the mountain of Hackgalla, at which place the
ravine deepens into the misty gorge already described.
At one time, if an elk crossed the Badulla road and gained the Hog's
Back jungle, both he and the hounds were lost, as no one could follow
through such impenetrable jungle without knowing either the distance or
direction.
"They are gone to Fort M'Donald river!" This was the despairing
exclamation at all times when the pack crossed the road, and we seldom
saw the hounds again until late that night or on the following day.
Many never returned, and Fort M'Donald river became a by-word as a
locality to be always dreaded.
After a long run one day, the pack having gone off in this fatal
direction, I was determined, at any price, to hunt them up, and
accordingly I went some miles down the Badulla road to the limestone
quarries, which are five miles from the Newera Ellia plain. From this
point I left the road and struck down into the deep, grassy valley,
crossing the river (the same which runs by the road higher up) and
continuing along the side of the valley until I ascended the opposite
range of hills. Descending the precipitous side, I at length reached
the paddy-fields in the low country, which were watered by Fort
M'Donald river, and I looked up to the lofty range formed by the Hog's
Back hill, now about three thousand feet above me. Thus I had gained
the opposite side of the Hog's Back, and, after a stiff pull lip the
mountain, I returned home by a good path which I had formerly
discovered along the course of the river through the forest to Newera
Ellia, via Rest-and-be-Thankful Valley and the Barrack Plains, having
made a circuit of about twenty-five miles and become thoroughly
conversant with all the localities. I immediately determined to have a
path cut from the Badulla Road across the Hog's Back jungle to the
patinas which looked down upon Fort M'Donald on the other side and, up
which I had ascended on my return. I judged the distance would not
exceed two miles across, and I chose the point of junction with the
Badulla road two miles and a half from my house. My reason for this
was, that the elk invariably took to the jungle at this place, which
proved it to be the easiest route.
This road, on completion, answered every expectation, connecting the
two sides of the Hog's Back by an excellent path of about two miles,
and débouching on the opposite side on a high patina peak which
commanded the whole country. Thus was the whole country opened up by
this single path, and should an elk play his old trick and be off
across the Hog's Back to Fort M'Donald river, I could be there nearly
as soon as he could, and also keep within hearing of the bounds
throughout the run.
I was determined to take the tent and regularly hunt up the whole
country on the other side of the Hog's Back, as the weather was very
bad at Newera Ellia, while in this spot it was beautifully fine,
although very windy.
I therefore sent on the tent, kennel-troughs and pots, and all the
paraphernalia indispensable for the jungle, and on the 31st May, 1852,
I started, having two companions--Capt. Pelly, Thirty-seventh Regiment,
who was then commandant of Newera Ellia, and his brother on a visit.
It was not more than an hour and a half's good walking from my house to
the high patina peak upon which I pitched the tent, but the country and
climate are so totally distinct from anything at Newera Ellia that it
gives every one the idea of being fifty miles away.
We hewed out a spacious arbor at the edge of the jungle, and in this I
had the tent pitched to protect it from the wind, which it did
effectually, as well as the kennel, which was near the same spot. The
servants made a good kitchen, and the encampment was soon complete.
There never could have been a more romantic or beautiful spot for a
bivouac. To the right lay the distant view of the low country,
stretching into an undefined distance, until the land and sky appeared
to melt together. Below, at a depth of about three thousand feet, the
river boiled through the rocky gorge until it reached the village of
Peréwellé at the base of the line of mountains, whose cultivated
paddy-fields looked no larger than the squares upon a chess-board. On
the opposite side of the river rose a precipitous and impassable
mountain, even to a greater altitude than the facing ridge upon which I
stood, forming as grand a foreground as the eye could desire. Above,
below, around, there was the bellowing sound of heavy cataracts echoed
upon all sides.
Certainly this country is very magnificent, but it is an awful locality
for hunting, as the elk has too great an advantage over both hounds and
hunters. Mountainous patinas of the steepest inclination, broken here
and there by abrupt precipices, and with occasional level platforms of
waving grass, descend to the river's bed. These patina mountains are
crowned by extensive forests, and narrow belts of jungle descend from
the summit to the base, clothing the numerous ravines which furrow the
mountain's side. Thus the entire surface of the mountains forms a
series of rugged grasslands, so steep as to be ascended with the
greatest difficulty, and the elk lie in the forests on the summits and
also in the narrow belts which cover the ravines.
The whole country forms a gorge, like a gigantic letter V. At the
bottom roars the dreaded torrent, Fort M'Donald river, in a succession
of foaming cataracts, all of which, however grand individually, are
completely eclipsed by its last great plunge of three hundred feet
perpendicular depth into a dark and narrow chasm of wall-bound cliffs.
The bed of the river is the most frightful place that can be conceived,
being choked by enormous fragments of rock, amidst which the
irresistible torrent howls with a fury that it is impossible to
describe.
The river is confined on either side by rugged cliffs of gneiss rock,
from which these fragments have from time to time become detached, and
have accordingly fallen into the torrent, choking the bed and throwing
the obstructed waters into frightful commotion. Here they lie piled
one upon the other, like so many inverted cottages; here and there
forming dripping caverns; now forming walls of slippery rock, over
which the water falls in thundering volumes into pools black from their
mysterious depth, and from which there is no visible means of exit.
These dark and dangerous pools are walled in by hoary-looking rocks,
beneath which the pent-up water dives and boils in subterranean
caverns, until it at length escapes through secret channels, and
reappears on the opposite side of its prison-walls; lashing itself into
foam in its mad frenzy, it forms rapids of giddy velocity through the
rocky bounds; now flying through a narrowed gorge, and leaping,
striving and wrestling with unnumbered obstructions, it at length meets
with the mighty fall, like death in a madman's course. One plunge!
without a single shelf to break the fall, and down, down it sheets; at
first like glass, then like the broken avalanche of snow, and
lastly!--we cannot see more--the mist boils from the ruin of shattered
waters and conceals the bottom of the fall. The roar vibrates like
thunder in the rocky mountain, and forces the grandeur of the scene
through every nerve.
No animal or man, once in those mysterious pools, could ever escape
without assistance. Thus in years post, when elk were not followed up
in this locality, the poor beast, being hard pressed by the hounds,
might have come to bay in one of these fatal basins, in which case,
both he and every bound who entered the trap found sure destruction.
The hard work and the danger to both man and bound in this country may
be easily imagined when it is explained that the nature of the elk
prompts him to seek for water as his place of refuge when hunted; thus
he makes off down the mountain for the river, in which he stands at
bay. Now the mountain itself is steep enough, but within a short
distance of the bottom the river is in many places guarded by
precipices of several hundred feet in depth. A few difficult passes
alone give access to the torrent, but the descent requires great
caution.
Altogether, this forms the wildest and most arduous country that can be
imagined for hunting, but it abounds with elk.
The morning was barely gray when I woke up the servants and ordered
coffee, and made the usual preparations for a start. At last, thank
goodness! the boots are laced! This is the troublesome part of dressing
before broad daylight, and nevertheless laced ankle-boots must be worn
as a protection against sprains and bruises in such a country. Never
mind the trouble of lacing them; they, are on now, and there is a good
day's work in store for them.
It was the 30th May, 1853, a lovely hunting morning and a fine dew on
the patinas; rather too windy, but that could not be helped.
Quiet now!--down, Bluebeard!--back, will you, Lucifer! Here's a smash!
there goes the jungle kennel! the pack squeezing out of it in every
direction as they hear the preparations for departure.
Now we are all right; ten couple out, and all good ones. Come along,
yo-o-i, along here! and a note on the horn brings the pack close
together as we enter the forest on the very summit of the ridge. Thus
the start was completed just as the first tinge of gold spread along
the eastern horizon, about ten minutes before sunrise.
The jungles were tolerably good, but there were not as many elk tracks
as I had expected; probably the high wind on the ridge had driven them
lower down for shelter; accordingly I struck an oblique direction
downward, and I was not long before I discovered a fresh track; fresh
enough, certainly, as the thick moss which covered the ground showed a
distinct path where the animal had been recently feeding.
Every hound had stolen away; even the greyhounds buried their noses in
the broad track of the buck, so fresh was the scent; and I waited
quietly for "the find." The greyhounds stood round me with their cars
cocked and glistening eyes, intently listening for the expected sound.
There they are! all together, such a burst! They must have stolen away
mute and have found on the other side the ridge, for they were now
coming down at full speed from the very summit of the mountain.
From the amount of music I knew they had a good start, but I had no
idea that the buck would stand to such a pack at the very commencement
of the hunt. Nevertheless there was a sudden bay within a few hundred
yards of me, and the elk had already turned to fight. I knew that he
was an immense fellow from his track, and I at once saw that he would
show fine sport.
Just as I was running through the jungle toward the spot, the bay broke
and the buck had evidently gone off straight away, as I heard the pack
in full cry rapidly increasing their distance and going off down the
mountain.
Sharp following was now the order of the day, and away we went. The
mountain was so steep that it was necessary every now and then to check
the momentum of a rapid descent by clinging to the tough saplings.
Sometimes one would give way and a considerable spill would be the
consequence. However, I soon got out on the patina about one-third of
the way down the mountain, and here I met one of the natives, who was
well posted. Not a sound of the pack was now to be heard; but this man
declared most positively that the elk had suddenly changed his course,
and, instead of keeping down the hill, had struck off to his left along
the side of the mountain. Accordingly, off I started as hard as I
could go with several natives, who all agreed as to the direction.
After running for about a mile along the patinas in the line which I
judged the pack had taken, I heard one hound at bay in a narrow jungle
high up on my left. It was only the halt of an instant, for the next
moment I heard the same hound's voice evidently running on the other
side of the strip of jungle, and taking off down the mountain straight
for the dreaded river. Here was a day's work cut out as neatly as could
be.
Running toward the spot, I found the buck's track leading in that
direction, and I gave two or three view halloos at the top of my voice
to bring the rest of the pack down upon it. They were close at hand,
but the high wind had prevented me from hearing them, and away they
came from the jungle, rushing down upon the scent like a flock of
birds. I stepped of the track to let them pass as they swept by, and
"For-r-r-a-r-d to him! For-r--r-ard!" was the word the moment they had
passed, as I gave them a halloo down the hill. It was a bad look-out
for the elk now; every hound knew that his master was close up, and
they went like demons.
The "Tamby"[1] was the only man up, and he and I immediately followed in
chase down the precipitous patinas; running when we could, scrambling,
and sliding on our hams when it was too steep to stand, and keeping
good hold of the long tufts of grass, lest we should gain too great an
impetus and slide to the bottom.
After about half a mile passed in this manner, I heard the bay, and I
saw the buck far beneath, standing upon a level, grassy platform,
within three hundred yards of the river. The whole pack was around him
except the greyhounds, who were with me; but not a hound had a chance
with him, and he repeatedly charged in among them, and regularly drove
them before him, sending any single hound spinning whenever he came
within his range. But the pack quickly reunited, and always returned
with fresh vigor to the attack. There was a narrow, wooded ravine
between me and them, and, with caution and speed combined, I made
toward the spot down the precipitous mountain, followed by the
greyhounds "Bran" and "Lucifer."
I soon arrived on a level with the bay, and, plunging into the ravine,
I swung myself down from tree to tree, and then climbed up the opposite
side. I broke cover within a few yards of him. What a splendid fellow
he looked! He was about thirteen hands high, and carried the most
beautiful head of horns that I had ever seen upon an elk. His mane was
bristled up, his nostril was distended, and, turning from the pack, he
surveyed me, as though taking the measure of his new antagonist. Not
seeming satisfied, he deliberately turned, and, descending from the
level space, he carefully, picked his way. Down narrow elk-runs along
the steep precipices, and, at a slow walk, with the whole pack in
single file at his heels, he clambered down toward the river. I
followed on his track over places which I would not pass in cold blood;
and I shortly halted above a cataract of some eighty feet in depth,
about a hundred paces from the great waterfall of three hundred feet.
It was extremely grand; the roar of the falls so entirely hushed all
other sounds that the voices of the hounds were perfectly inaudible,
although within a few yards of me, as I looked down upon them from a
rock that overhung the river.
The elk stood upon the brink of the swollen torrent; he could not
retreat, as the wall of rock was behind him, with the small step-like
path by which he had descended; this was now occupied by the yelling
pack.
The hounds knew the danger of the place; but the buck, accustomed to
these haunts from his birth, suddenly leapt across the boiling rapids,
and springing from rock to rock along the verge of the cataract, he
gained the opposite side. Here he had mistaken his landing-place, as a
shelving rock, upon which he had alighted, was so steep that he could
not retain his footing, and he gradually slid down toward the river.
At this moment, to my horror, both "Bran" and "Lucifer" dashed across
the torrent, and bounding from rock to rock, they sprung at the already
tottering elk, and in another moment both he and they rolled over in a
confused mass into the boiling torrent. One more instant and they
reappeared, the buck gallantly stemming the current, which his great
length of limb and weight enabled him to do; the dogs, overwhelmed in
the foam of the rapids, were swept down toward the fall, in spite of
their frantic exertions to gain the bank.
They were not fifteen feet from the edge of the fall, and I saw them
spun round and round in the whirlpools being hurried toward certain
destruction. The poor dogs seemed aware of the danger, and made the
most extraordinary efforts to avoid their fate. They were my two
favorites of the pack, and I screamed out words of encouragement to
them, although the voice of a cannon could not have been heard among
the roar of waters. They had nearly gained the bank oil the very ver-e
of the fall, when a few tufts of lemon grass concealed them from my
view. I thought they were over, and I could not restrain a cry of
despair at their horrible fate. I felt sick with the idea. But the
next moment I was shouting hurrah! they are all right, thank goodness,
they were saved. I saw them struggling up the steep bank, through the
same lemon grass, which had for a moment obscured their fate. They
were thoroughly exhausted and half drowned.
In the mean time, the elk had manfully breasted the rapids, carefully
choosing the shallow places; and the whole pack, being mad with
excitement, had plunged into the waters regardless of the danger. I
thought every hound would have been lost. For an instant they looked
like a flock of ducks, but a few moments afterward they were scattered
in the boiling eddies, hurrying with fatal speed toward the dreadful
cataract. Poor "Phrenzy!" round she spun in the giddy vortex; nearer
and nearer she approached the verge--her struggles were
unavailing--over she went, and was of course never heard of afterward.
This was a terrible style of hunting; rather too much so to be
pleasant. I clambered down to the edge of the river just in time to see
the elk climbing, as nimbly as a cat up the precipitous bank on the
opposite side, threading his way at a slow walk under the overhanging
rocks, and scrambling up the steep mountain with a long string of
hounds at his heels in single file. "Valiant," "Tiptoe" and "Ploughboy"
were close to him, and I counted the other hounds in the line, fully
expecting to miss half of them. To my surprise and delight, only one
was absent; this was poor "Phrenzy." The others had all managed to save
themselves. I now crossed the river by leaping from rock to rock with
some difficulty, and with hands and knees I climbed the opposite bank.
This was about sixty feet high, from the top of which the mountain
commenced its ascent, which, though very precipitous was so covered
with long lemon grass that it was easy enough to climb. I looked
behind me, and there was the Tamby, all right, within a few paces.
The elk was no longer in sight, and the roar of the water was so great
that it was impossible to hear the hounds. However, I determined to
crawl along his track, which was plainly discernible, the high grass
being broken into a regular lane which skirted the precipice of the
great waterfall in the direction of the villages.
We were now about a hundred feet above, and on one side of the great
fall, looking into the deep chasm into which the river leapt, forming a
cloud of mist below. The lemon grass was so high in tufts along the
rocks that we could not see a foot before us, and we knew not whether
the next step would land us on firm footing, or deposit us some hundred
feet below. Clutching fast to the long grass, therefore, we crept
carefully on for about a quarter of a mile, now climbing the face of
the rocks, now descending by means of their irregular surfaces, but
still stirring the dark gorge down which the river fell.
At length, having left the fall some considerable distance behind us,
the ear was somewhat relieved from the bewildering noise of water, and
I distinctly heard the pack at bay not very far in advance. In another
moment I saw the elk standing on a platform of rock about a hundred
yards ahead, on a lower shelf of the mountain, and the whole pack at
bay. This platform was the top of a cliff which overhung the deep
gorge; the river flowing in the bottom after its great fall, and both
the elk and hounds appeared to be in "a fix." The descent had been made
to this point by leaping down places which he could not possibly
reascend, and there was only one narrow outlet, which was covered by
the hounds. Should he charge through the hounds to force this passage,
half a dozen of them must be knocked over the precipice.
However, I carefully descended, and soon reached the platform. This was
not more than twenty feet square, and it looked down in the gorge of
about three hundred feet. The first seventy of this depth were
perpendicular, as the top of the rock overhung, after which the side of
the cliff was marked by great fissures and natural steps formed by the
detachment from time to time of masses of rock which had fallen into
the river below. Bushes and rank grass filled the interstices of the
rocks, and an old deserted water-course lay exactly beneath the
platform, being cut and built out of the side of the cliff.
It was a magnificent sight in such grand scenery to see the buck at bay
when we arrived upon the platform. He was a dare-devil fellow, and
feared neither hounds nor man, every now and then charging through the
pack, and coming almost within reach of the Tamby's spear. It was a
difficult thing to know how to kill him. I was afraid to go in at him,
lest in his struggles he should drag the hounds over the precipice, and
I would not cheer the seizers on for the same reason. Indeed, they
seemed well aware of the danger, and every now and then retreated to
me, as though to entice the elk to make a move to some better ground.
However, the buck very soon decided the question. I made up my mind to
halloo the hounds on, and to hamstring the elk, to prevent him from
nearing the precipice: and, giving a shout, the pack rushed at him.
Not a dog could touch him; he was too quick with his horns and fore
feet. He made a dash into the pack, and then regained his position
close to the verge of the precipice. He then turned his back to the
hounds, looked down over the edge, and, to the astonishment of all,
plunged into the abyss below! A dull crash sounded from beneath, and
then nothing was heard but the roaring of the waters as before. The
hounds looked over the edge and yelled with a mixture of fear and
despair. Their game was gone!
By making a circuit of about half a mile among these frightful
precipices and gorges, we at length arrived at the foot of the cliff
down which the buck had leapt. Here we of course found him lying dead,
as he had broken most of his bones. He was in very fine condition; but
it was impossible to move him from such a spot. I therefore cut off
his head, as his antlers were the finest that I have ever killed before
or since.
To regain the tent, I had a pull for it, having to descend into the
village of Peréwellé, and then to reascend the opposite mountain of
three thousand feet; but even this I thought preferable to returning in
cold blood by the dangerous route I had come.
Tugging up such a mountain was no fun after a hard morning's work, and
I resolved to move the encampment to a large cave, some eight hundred
feet lower down the mountain. Accordingly, I struck the tent, and
after breakfast we took up our quarters in a cavern worthy of Robin
Hood. This had been formed by a couple of large rocks the size of a
moderate house, which had been detached from the overhanging cliff
above, and had fallen together. There was a smaller cavern within,
which made a capital kennel; rather more substantial than the rickety
building of yesterday.
Some of the village people, hearing that the buck was killed and lying
in the old water-course, went in a gang to cut him up. What was their
surprise on reaching the spot to find the carcase removed! It had
evidently been dragged along the water-course, as the trail was
distinct in the high grass, and upon following it up, away went two
fine leopards, bounding along the rocks to their adjacent cave. They
had consumed a large portion of the flesh, but the villagers did not
leave them much for another meal. Skin, hoofs, and in fact every
vestige of an elk, is consumed by these people.
For my own part, I do not think much of elk venison, unless it be very
fit, which is rarely the case. It is at all times more like beef than
any other meat, for which it is a very good substitute. The
marrow-bones are the "bonne bouche," being peculiarly rich and
delicate. Few animals can have a larger proportion of marrow than the
elk, as the bones are more hollow than those of most quadrupeds. This
cylindrical formation enables them to sustain the severe shocks in
descending rough mountains at full speed. It is perfectly wonderful to
see an animal of near six hundred pounds' weight bounding down a
hillside, over rocks and ruts and every conceivable difficulty of
ground, at a pace which will completely distance the best hound; and
even at this desperate speed, the elk will never make a false step;
sure-footed as a goat, he will still fly on through bogs, ravines,
tangled jungles and rocky rivers, ever certain of his footing.
The foregoing description of an elk-hunt will give the reader a good
idea of the power of this animal in stemming rapids and climbing
dangerous precipices; but even an elk is not proof against the dangers
of Fort M'Donald river, an example of which we had on the following
morning.
The hounds found a doe who broke cover close to me in a small patina
and made straight running for the river. She had no sooner reached it
than I beard her cry out, and as she was closely followed I thought she
was seized. However, the whole pack shortly returned, evidently thrown
out, and I began to abuse them pretty roundly, thinking that they had
lost their game in the river. So they had, but in an excusable manner;
the poor doe had been washed down a rapid, and had broken her thigh. We
found her dead under a hollow rock in the middle of the river.
Here we had a fine exemplification of the danger of the mysterious
pools.
While I was opening the elk, with the pack all round me licking their
lips in expectation, old "Madcap" was jostled by one of the greyhounds,
and slipped into a basin among the rocks, which formed an edge of about
two feet above the surface.
The opposite side of the pool was hemmed in by rocks about six feet
high, and the direction of the under-current was at once shown by poor
old "Madcap" being swept up against this high wall of rock, where she
remained paddling with all her might in an upright position.
I saw the poor beast would be sucked under, and yet I could not save
her. However, I did my best at the risk of falling in myself.
I took off my handkerchief and made a slip-knot, and begging Pelly to
lie down on the top of the rock, I took his hand while I clung to the
face of the wall as I best could by a little ledge of about two inches'
width.
With great difficulty I succeeded in hooking the bitch's head in the
slip-knot, but in my awkward position I could not use sufficient
strength to draw her out. I could only support her head above the
water, which I could distinctly feel was drawing her from me.
Presently she gave a convulsive struggle, which freed her head from the
loop, and in an instant she disappeared.
I could not help going round the rock to see if her body should be
washed out when the torrent reappeared, when, to my astonishment, up
she popped all right, not being more than half drowned by her
subterranean excursion, and we soon helped her safe ashore.
Fortunately for her, the passage had been sufficiently large to pass
her, although I have no doubt a man would have been held fast and
drowned.
There was so much water in the river that I determined to move from
this locality as too dangerous for hunting. I therefore ordered the
village people to assemble on the following morning to carry the loads
and tent. In the mean time I sent for the dead elk.
There could riot be a better place for a hunting-box than that cave.
We soon had a glorious fire roaring round the kennel-pot, which, having
been well scoured with sand and water, was to make the soup. Such
soup!--shades of gourmands, if ye only smelt that cookery! The pot held
six gallons, and the whole elk, except a few steaks, was cut up and
alternately boiled down in sections. The flesh was then cut up small
for the pack, the marrowbones reserved for "master," and the soup was
then boiled until it had evaporated to the quantity required. A few
green chilies, onions in slices fried, and a little lime-juice, salt,
black pepper and mushroom ketchup, and--in fact, there is no rise
thinking of it, as the soup is not to be had again. The fire crackled
and blazed as the logs were heaped upon it as night grew near, and lit
up all the nooks and corners of the old cave. Three beds in a row
contained three sleepy mortals. The hounds snored and growled, and
then snored again. The servants jabbered, chewed betel, spit, then
jabbered a little more, and at last everything and everybody was fast
asleep within the cave.
The next morning we had an early breakfast and started, the village
people marching off in good spirits with the loads. I was now en route
for Bertram's patinas, which lay exactly over the mountain on the
opposite side of the river. This being perpendicular, I was obliged to
make a great circuit by keeping the old Newera Ellia path along the
river for two or three miles, and then, turning off at right angles, I
knew an old native trace over the ridge. Altogether, it was a round of
about six miles, although the patinas were not a mile from the cave in
a straight line.
The path in fact terminates upon the high peak, exactly opposite the
cave, looking down upon my hunting-ground of the day before, and on the
other side the ridge lie Bertram's patinas.
The extreme point of the ridge which I had now gained forms one end of
a horse-shoe or amphitheatre; the other extremity is formed by a high
mountain exactly opposite at about two miles' distance. The bend of
the horse-shoe forms a circuit of about six miles, the rim of which is
a wall of precipices and steep patina mountains, which are about six or
seven hundred feet above the basin or the bottom of the amphitheatre.
The tops of the mountains are covered with good open forest, and
ribbon-like strips descend to the base. Now the base forms an uneven
shelf of great extent, about two thousand feet above the villages. This
shelf or valley appears to have suffered at some remote period from a
terrible inundation. Landslips of great size and innumerable deep
gorges and ravines furrow the bottom of the basin, until at length a
principal fissure carries away the united streams to the paddy-fields
below.
The cause of this inundation is plain enough. The basin has been the
receptacle for the drainage of an extensive surface of mountain. This
drainage has been effected by innumerable small torrents, which have
united in one general channel through the valley. The exit of this
stream is through a narrow gorge, by which it descends to the low
country. During the period of heavy rains a landslip has evidently
choked up this passage, and the exit of the water being thus
obstructed, the whole area of the valley has become a lake. The
accumulated water has suddenly burst through the obstruction and swept
everything before it. The elk are very fond of lying under the
precipices in the strips of jungle already mentioned. When found, they
are accordingly forced to take to the open country and come down to the
basin below, as they cannot possibly ascend the mountain except by one
or two remote deer-runs. Thus the whole hunt from the find to the
death is generally in view.
From every point of this beautiful locality there is a boundless and
unbroken panorama of the low country.
Unfortunately, although the weather was perfectly fine, it was the
windy season, and a gale swept across the mountains that rendered ears
of little use, as a hound's voice was annihilated in such a hurricane
This was sadly against sport, as the main body of the pack would have
no chance of joining the finding hound.
However, the hounds were unkenneled at break of day, and, the tent
being pitched at the bottom of the basin, we commenced a pull up the
steep patinas, hoping to find somewhere on the edge of the jungles.
"There's scent to a certainty!--look at old Bluebeard's nose upon the
ground and the excited wagging of his stern. Ploughboy notices it--now
Gaylass they'll hit it off presently to a certainty, though it's as
cold as charity. That elk was feeding here early in the night; the
scent is four hours old if a minute. There they go into the jungle, and
we shall lose the elk, ten to one, as not another hound in the pack
will work it up. It can't be helped; if any three hounds will rouse
him out, those are the three."
For a couple of hours we had sat behind a rock, sheltered from the
wind, watching the immense prospect before us. The whole pack were
lying around us except the three missing hounds, of whom we had seen
nothing since they stole away upon the cold scent.
That elk must have gone up to the top of the mountains after feeding,
and a pretty run he must be having, very likely off to Matturatta
plains; if so, good-bye to all sport for to-day, and the best hounds
will be dead tired for to-morrow.
I was just beginning to despair when I observed a fine large buck at
about half a mile distance, cantering easily toward us across an
extensive flat of table-land. This surface was a fine sward, on the
same level with the point upon which we sat, but separated from us by
two small wooded ravines, with a strip of patina between them. I at
once surmised that this was the hunted elk, although, as yet, no hounds
were visible.
On arrival at the first ravine we immediately descended, and shortly
after he reappeared on the small patina between the two ravines, within
three hundred yards of us. Here the strong gale gave him our scent. It
was a beautiful sight to see him halt in an instant, snuff the warning
breeze and, drawing up to his full height, and wind the enemy before
him.
Just at this moment I heard old "Bluebeard's" deep note swelling in the
distance, and I saw him leading across the table-land as true as gold
upon the track; "Ploughboy" and "Gaylass" were both with him but they
were running mute.
The buck heard the hounds as well as we did, and I was afraid that the
whole pack would also catch the sound, and by hurrying toward it, would
head the elk him from his course. Up to the present time and turn they
had not observed him.
Still the buck stood in an attitude of acute suspense. He winded an
enemy before him and he heard another behind, which was rapidly closing
up, and, as though doubting his own power of scent, he gave preference
to that of hearing, and gallantly continued his course and entered the
second ravine just beneath our feet.
I immediately jumped up, and, exciting the hounds in a subdued voice, I
waved my cap at the spot, and directed a native to run at full speed to
the jungle to endeavor to meet the elk, as I knew the hounds would then
follow him. This they did; and they all entered the jungle with the
man except the three greyhounds, "Lucifer," "Bran" and "Hecate," who
remained with me.
A short time passed in breathless suspense, during which the voices of
the three following hounds rapidly approached as they steadily
persevered in the long chase; when suddenly, as I had expected, the
main body of the pack met the elk in the strip of jungle.
Joyful must have been the burst of music to the ears of old "Bluebeard"
after his long run. Out crashed the buck upon the patinas near the
spot where the pack had entered, and away he went over the grassy hills
at a pace which soon left the hounds behind. The greyhounds will
stretch his legs for him. Yo-i-ck to him, Lucifer! For-r-r-ard to him,
Hecate!
Off dashed the three greyhounds from my side at a railway pace, but, as
the buck was above them and had a start of about two hundred yards, in
such an uphill race both Bran and Lucifer managed to lose sight of him
in the undulations.
Now was the time for Hecate's enormous power of loin and thigh to tell,
and, never losing a moment's view of her game, she sped up the steep
mountain side and was soon after seen within fifty yards of the brick
all alone, but going like a rocket.
Now she has turned him! that pace could not last up hill, and round the
elk doubled and came flying down the mountain side.
From the point of the hill upon which we stood we had a splendid view
of the course; the bitch gained upon him at every bound, and there was
a pitiless dash in her style of going that boded little mercy to her
game. What alarmed me, however, was the direction that the buck was
taking. An abrupt precipice of about two hundred and fifty feet was
lying exactly in his path; this sunk sheer down to a lower series of
grass-lands.
At the tremendous pace at which they were going I feared lest their own
impetus should carry both elk and dog to destruction before they could
see the danger.
Down they flew with unabated speed; they neared the precipice, and a
few more seconds would bring them to the verge.
The stride of the buck was no match for the bound of the greyhound: the
bitch was at his flanks, and he pressed along at flying speed.
He was close to the danger and it was still unseen: a moment more and
"Hecate" sprang at his ear. Fortunately she lost her hold as the ear
split. This check saved her. I shouted, "He'll be over!" and the next
instant he was flying through the air to headlong destruction.
Bounding from a projecting rock upon which he struck, he flew outward,
and with frightfully increasing momentum he spun round and round in his
descent, until the centrifugal motion drew out his legs and neck as
straight as a line. A few seconds of this multiplying velocity
and--crash!
It was all over. The bitch had pulled up on the very brink of the
precipice, but it was a narrow escape.
Sportsmen are contradictory creatures. If that buck had come to bay, I
should have known no better sport than going in at him with the knife
to the assistance of the pack; but I now felt a great amount of
compassion for the poor brute who had met so terrible a fate. It did
not seem fair; and yet I would not have missed such a sight for
anything. Nothing can be conceived more terribly grand than the rush
of so large an animal through the air; and it was a curious
circumstance that within a few days no less than two bucks had gone
over precipices, although I had never witnessed one such an accident
more than once before.
Upon reaching the fatal spot, I, of course, found him lying stone dead.
He had fallen at least two hundred and fifty feet to the base of the
precipice; and the ground being covered with detached fragments of
rock, he had broken most of his bones, beside bursting his paunch and
smashing in the face. However, we cut him up and cleaned him, and,
with the native followers heavily laden, we reached the tent.
The following morning I killed another fine buck after a good run on
the patinas, where he was coursed and pulled down by the greyhounds;
but the wind was so very high that it destroyed the pleasure of
hunting. I therefore determined on another move--to the Matturatta
Plains, within three miles of my present hunting ground.
After hunting four days at the Matturatta Plains, I moved on to the
Elephant Plains, and from thence returned home after twelve days'
absence, having killed twelve elk and two red deer.
The animal known as the "red deer" in Ceylon is a very different
creature to his splendid namesake in Scotland; he is particularly
unlike a deer in the disproportionate size of his carcase to his length
of leg. He stands about twenty-six inches high at the shoulder and
weighs (live weight) from forty-five to fifty pounds. He has two sharp
tusks in the upper jaw, projecting about an inch and a half from the
gum. These are exactly like the lower-jaw tusks of a boar, but they
incline in the contrary direction, viz., downward, and they are used as
weapons of defence.
The horns of the red deer seldom exceed eight inches in length, and
have no more than two points upon each antler, formed by a fork-like
termination. This kind of deer has no brow antler. They are very fast,
and excel especially in going up hill, in which ground they frequently
escape from the best grey-hounds.
There is no doubt that the red-deer venison is the best in Ceylon, but
the animal itself is not generally sought after for sport. He gives a
most uninteresting run; never going straight away like a deer, but
doubling about over fifty acres of ground like a hare, until he is at
last run into and killed. They exist in extraordinary numbers
throughout every portion of Ceylon, but are never seen in herds.
Next to the red deer is the still more tiny species, the "mouse deer."
This animal seldom exceeds twelve inches in height, and has the same
characteristic as the red deer in the heavy proportion of body to its
small length of limb. The skin is a mottled ash-gray, covered with
dark spots. The upper jaw is furnished with sharp tusks similar to the
red deer, but the head is free from horns.
The skull is perfectly unlike the head of a deer, and is closely allied
to the rat, which it would exactly resemble, were it not for the
difference in the teeth. The mouse deer lives principally upon berries
and fruits; but I have seldom found much herbage upon examination of
the paunch. Some people consider the flesh very good, but my ideas
perhaps give it a "ratty" flavor that makes it unpalatable.
These little deer make for some well-known retreat the moment that they
are disturbed by dogs, and they are usually found after a short run
safely ensconced in a hollow tree.
It is a very singular thing that none of the deer tribe in Ceylon have
more than six points on their horns, viz., three upon each. These are,
the brow-antler point, and the two points which form the extremity of
each horn. I have seen them occasionally with more, but these were
deformities in the antlers.
A stranger is always disappointed in a Ceylon elk's antlers; and very
naturally, for they are quite out of proportion to the great size of
the animal. A very large Scotch red deer in not more than two-thirds
the size of a moderately fine elk, and yet he carries a head of horns
that are infinitely larger.
In fact, so rare are fine antlers in Ceylon that I could not pick out
more than a dozen of really handsome elk horns out of the great numbers
that I have killed.
A handsome pair of antlers is a grand addition to the beauty of a fine
buck, and gives a majesty to his bearing which is greatly missed when a
fine animal breaks cover with only a puny pair of horns. There is as
great a difference in his appearance as there would be in a
life-guardsman in full uniform or in his shirt.
The antlers of the axis, or spotted deer, are generally longer than
those of the elk; they are also more slender and graceful. Altogether,
the spotted deer is about the handsomest of that beautiful tribe. A
fine spotted stag is the perfection of elegance, color, strength,
courage and speed. He has a proud and thorough-bred way of carrying
his head, which is set upon his neck with a peculiar grace. Nothing
can surpass the beauty of his full black eye. His hide is as sleek as
satin--a rich brown, slightly tinged with red, and spotted as though
mottled with flakes of snow. His weight is about two hundred and fifty
pounds (alive).
It is a difficult thing to judge of a deer's weight with any great
accuracy; but I do not think I am far out in my estimation of the
average, as I once tried the experiment by weighing a dead elk. I had
always considered that a mountain elk, which is smaller than those of
the low country, weighed about four hundred pounds when cleaned, or
five hundred and fifty pounds live weight. I happened one day to kill
an average-sized buck, though with very small horns, close to the road;
so, having cleaned him, I sent a cart for his carcase on my return
home. This elk I weighed whole, minus his inside, and he was four
hundred and eleven pounds. Many hours had elapsed since his death, so
that the carcase must have lost much weight by drying; this, with the
loss of blood and offal, must have been at least one hundred and fifty
pounds, which would have made his live weight five hundred and
sixty-one pounds.
Of the five different species of deer in Ceylon, the spotted deer is
alone seen upon the plains. No climate can be too hot for his exotic
constitution, and he is never found at a higher elevation than three
thousand feet. In the low country, when the midday sun has driven
every other beast to the shelter of the densest jungles, the sultan of
the herd and his lovely mates are sometimes contented with the shade of
an isolated tree or the simple border of the jungle, where they
drowsily pass the day, flipping their long ears in listless idleness
until the hotter hours have passed away. At about four in the
afternoon they stroll upon the open plains, bucks, does and fawns, in
beautiful herds; when undisturbed, as many as a hundred together. This
is the only species of deer in Ceylon that is gregarious.
Neither the spotted deer, nor the bear or buffalo, is to be found at
Newera Ellia. The axis and the buffalo being the usual denizens of the
hottest countries, are not to be expected to exist in their natural
state in so low a temperature; but it is extraordinary that the bear,
who in most countries inhibits the mountains, should in Ceylon adhere
exclusively to the low country.
The Ceylon bear is of that species which is to be seen in the
Zoological Gardens as the "sloth bear;" an ill-bred-looking fellow with
a long-haired black coat and a gray face.
A Ceylon bear's skin is not worth preserving; there is no fur upon it,
but it simply consists of rather a stingy allowance of black hairs.
This is the natural effect of his perpetual residence in a hot country,
where his coat adapts itself to the climate. He is desperately savage,
and is more feared by the natives than any other animal, as he is in
the constant habit of attacking people without the slightest
provocation. His mode of attack increases the danger, as there is a
great want of fair play in his method of fighting. Lying in wait,
either behind a rock or in a thick bush, he makes a sudden spring upon
the unwary wanderer, and in a moment he attacks his face with teeth and
claws. The latter are about two inches long, and the former are much
larger than a leopard's; hence it may easily be imagined how even a few
seconds of biting and clawing might alter the most handsome expression
of countenance.
Bears have frequently been known to tear off a man's face like a mask,
leaving nothing but the face of a skull.
Thus the quadrupeds of Newera Ellia and the adjacent highlands are
confined to the following classes: the elephant, the hog, the leopard,
the chetah, the elk, the red deer, the mouse deer, the hare, the otter,
the jackal, the civet cat, the mongoose and two others (varieties of
the species), the black squirrel, the gray squirrel, the wanderoo
monkey (the largest species in Ceylon), the porcupine, and a great
variety of the rat.
Imagine the difficulty of breaking in a young hound for elk-hunting
when the jungles are swarming with such a list of vermin! The better
the pup the more he will persevere in hunting everything that he can
possibly find; and with such a variety of animals, some of which have
the most enticing scent, it is a source of endless trouble in teaching
a young hound what to limit and what to avoid.
It is curious to witness the sagacity of the old hounds in joining or
despising the opening note of a newcomer.
The jungles are fearfully thick, and it requires great exertion on the
part of the dog to force his way through at a pace that will enable him
to join the finding hound; thus he fears considerable disappointment if
upon his arrival he finds the scent of a monkey or a cat instead of his
legitimate game. An old hound soon marks the inexperienced voice of
the babbler, and after the cry of "wolf" has been again repeated,
nothing will induce him to join the false finder.
Again, it is exceedingly interesting to observe the quickness of all
hounds in acknowledging their leader. Only let them catch the sound of
old "Bluebeard's" voice, and see the dash with which they rush through
the jungle to join him. They know the old fellows note is true to an
elk or hog, and, with implicit confidence in his "find," they never
hesitate to join.
There are numerous obstacles to the breaking and training of dogs of
all kinds in such a country. A hound when once in the jungle is his
own master. He obeys the sound of the halloo or the born, or not, as
he thinks proper. It is impossible to correct him, as he is out of
sight.
Now, the very fact of having one or two first-rate finders in a pack,
will very likely be the cause of spoiling the other hounds. After
repeated experience their instinct soon shows them that, no matter how
the whole pack may individually hunt, the "find" will be achieved by
one of the first-rate hounds, and gradually they give up hunting and
take to listening for the opening note of the favorite. Of course in
an open country they would be kept to their work by the whip, but at
Newera Ellia this is impossible. This accounts for the extreme paucity
of first-rate "finders."
Hunting in a wild country is a far more difficult task for hounds than
the ordinary chase at home. Wherever a country is cultivated it must be
enclosed. Thus, should a flock of sheep have thrown the hounds out by
crossing the scent, a cast round the fences must soon hit it off again
if the fox has left the field. But in elk-hunting it is scarcely
possible to assist the hounds; a dozen different animals, or even a
disturbed elk, may cross the scent in parts of the jungle where the cry
of the hounds is even out of hearing. Again, an elk has a constant
habit of running or swimming down a river, his instinct prompting him
to drown his own scent, and thus throw off his pursuers. Here is a
trial for the hounds!--the elk has waded or swum down the stream, and
the baffled pack arrive upon the bank; their cheering music has ceased;
the elk has kept the water for perhaps a quarter of a mile, or he may
have landed several times during that distance and again have taken to
water.
Now the young hounds dash thoughtlessly across the river, thinking of
nothing but a straight course, and they are thrown out on the barren
bank on the other side. Back they come again, wind about the last
track for a few minutes, and then they are forced to give it up--they
are thrown out altogether.
Mark the staunch old hounds!--one has crossed the river; there is no
scent, but he strikes down the bank with his nose close to the ground,
and away he goes along the edge of the river casting for a scent. Now
mark old "Bluebeard," swimming steadily down the stream; he knows the
habits of his game as well as I do, and two to one that he will find,
although "Ploughboy" has just started along the near bank so that both
sides of the river are being hunted.
Now this is what I call difficult hunting; bad enough if the huntsman
be up to assist his hounds, but nine times out of ten this happens in
the middle of a run, without a soul within a mile.
The only way to train hounds in this style of country is to accustom
them to complete obedience from puppyhood. This is easily effected by
taking them out for exercise upon a road coupled to old hounds. A good
walk every morning, accompanied by the horn and the whip, and they soon
fall into such a habit of obedience that they may be taken out without
the couples.
The great desideratum, then, is to gain their affection and confidence,
otherwise they will obey upon the road and laugh at you when in the
jungle. Now "affection" is a difficult feeling to instill into a
foxhound, and can only be partially attained by the exercise of
cupboard love; thus a few pieces of dry liver or bread, kept in the
pocket to be given to a young hound who has sharply answered to his
call, will do more good than a month of scolding and rating.
"Confidence," or the want of it, in a hound depends entirely upon the
character of his master. There is an old adage of "like master, like
man;" and this is strongly displayed in the hound. The very best seizer
would be spoiled if his master were a leetle slow in going in with the
knife; and, on the other hand, dogs naturally shy of danger turn into
good seizers where their master invariably leads them in.
Not only is their confidence required and gained at these times, but
they learn to place implicit reliance upon their master's knowledge of
hunting, in the same manner that they acknowledge the superiority of a
particular hound. This induces them to obey beyond any method of
training, as they feel a certain dependence upon the man, and they
answer his halloo or the horn without a moment's hesitation.
Nothing is so likely to destroy the character of a pack as a certain
amount of laziness or incapacity upon the master's part in following
them up. This is natural enough, as the best hounds, if repeatedly
left unassisted for hours when at bay with their game until they are
regularly beaten off, will lose their relish for the sport. On the
other hand, perseverance on the huntsman part will ensure a
corresponding amount in the hounds; they will become so accustomed to
the certain appearance of their master at the bay at some time or other
that they will stick to their game till night. I have frequently
killed elk at two or three o'clock in the afternoon that have been
found at six in the morning. Sometimes I have killed them even later
than this when, after wandering fruitlessly the whole day in every
direction but the right one, my ears have at length been gladdened by
the distant sound of the bay. The particular moment when hope and
certainty combined reward the day's toil is the very quintessence of
joy and delight. Nothing in the shape of enjoyment can come near it.
What a strange power has that helpless-looking mass--the brain! One
moment, and the limbs are fagged, the shins are tender with breaking
all day through the densest jungles, the feet are worn with unrequited
labor and--hark! The bay! no doubt of it--the bay! There is the magic
spell which, acting on the brain, flies through every nerve. New legs,
new feet, new everything, in a moment! fresh as though just out of bed;
here we go tearing through the jungle like a buffalo, and as happy as
though we had just come in for a fortune--happier, a great deal.
Nevertheless, elk-hunting is not a general taste, as people have not
opportunities of enjoying it constantly. Accordingly, they are out of
condition, and soon be, come distressed and of necessity "shut up" (a
vulgar but expressive term). This must be fine fun for a total
stranger rather inclined to corpulency, who has dauntlessly persevered
in keeping up with the huntsman, although at some personal
inconvenience. There is a limit to all endurance, and he is obliged to
stop, quite blown, completely done. He loses all sounds of hounds and
huntsman, and everything connected with the hunt. Where is he? How
horrible the idea that flashes across his mind! he has no idea where he
is, except that he is quite certain that he is in some jungle in Ceylon.
Distraction! Ceylon is nearly all jungle, two hundred and eighty miles
long and he is in this--somewhere He tries to recollect by what route
he has come; impossible! He has been up one mountain, and then he
turned to the right, and got into a ravine; he recollects the ravine,
for he fell on his head with the end of a dead stick in his stomach
just as he got to the bottom; he forgets every other part of his route,
simply having an idea that he went down a great many ravines and up a
number of hills, and turned to the right and left several times. He
gives it up; he finds himself "lost," and, if he is sensible, he will
sit down and wait till some one comes to look for him, when he will
start with joy at the glad sound of the horn. But should he attempt to
find his way alone through those pathless jungles, he will only
increase his distance from the right course.
One great peculiarity in Newera Ellia is the comparative freedom from
poisonous vermin. There are three varieties of snakes, only one of
which is hurtful, and all are very minute. The venomous species is the
"carrawellé," whose bite is generally fatal; but this snake is not
often met with. There are no ticks, nor bugs, nor leeches, nor
scorpions, nor white ants, nor wasps, nor mosquitoes; in fact, there is
nothing venomous except the snake alluded to, and a small species of
centipede. Fleas there are certainly--indeed, a fair sprinkling of
fleas; but they are not troublesome, except in houses which are
unoccupied during a portion of the year. This is a great peculiarity
of a Ceylon flea--he is a great colonist; and should a house be
untenanted for a few months, so sure will it swarm with these
"settlers." Even a grass hut built for a night's bivouac in the jungle,
without a flea in the neighborhood, will literally swarm with them if
deserted for a couple of months. Fleas have a great fancy for settling
upon anything white; thus a person with white trowsers will be
blackened with them, while a man in darker colors will be comparatively
free. I at first supposed that they appeared in larger numbers on the
white ground because they were more easily distinguished; but I tried
the experiment of putting a sheet of writing-paper and a piece of brown
talipot leaf in the midst of fleas; the paper was covered with them,
while only two or three were on the talipot.
The bite of the small species of centipede alluded to is not very
severe, being about equivalent to a wasp's sting. I have been bitten
myself, and I have seen another person suffering from the bite, which
was ludicrous enough.
The sufferer was Corporal Phinn, of H.M. Fifteenth Regiment. At that
time he was one of Lieutenant de Montenach's servants, and accompanied
his master on a hunting-trip to the Horton Plains.
Now Phinn was of course an Irishman; an excellent fellow, a dead hand
at tramping a bog and killing a snipe, but (without the slightest
intention of impugning his veracity) Phinn's ideality was largely
developed. He was never by himself for five minutes in the jungle
without having seen something wonderful before his return; this he was
sure to relate in a rich brogue with great facetiousness.
However, we had just finished dinner one night, and Phinn had then
taken his master's vacant place (there being only one room) to commence
his own meal, when up he jumped like a madman, spluttering the food out
of his mouth, and shouting and skipping about the room with both hands
clutched tightly to the hinder part of his inexpressibles. "Oh, by
Jasus! help, sir, help! I've a reptile or some divil up my breeches!
Oh! bad luck to him, he's biting me! Oh! oh! it's sure a sarpint that's
stinging me! quick, sir, or he'll be the death o' me!"
Phinn was frantic, and upon lowering his inexpressibles we found the
centipede about four inches long which had bitten him. A little brandy
rubbed on the part soon relieved the pain.
[1] An exceedingly active Moorman, who was my great ally in hunting.