I was once shooting at Illepecadewe, which is a lonely, miserable spot, when I met with a very sagacious and original sportsman in a most unexpected manner.I was shooting with a friend, and we had separated for a few hundred paces.I presently got a shot at a peafowl, and killed her with my rifle.The shot was no sooner fired than I heard another shot in the jungle, in the direction taken by my friend.My rifle was still unloaded when a spotted doe bounded out of the jungle, followed by a white pariah dog in full chase.Who would have dreamt of meeting with a dog at this distance from a village (about four miles)? I whistled to the dog, and to my surprise he came to me, the deer having left him out of sight in a few seconds.He was a knowing-looking brute, and was evidently out hunting on his own account.Just at this moment my friend called to me that he had wounded a buck, and that he had found the blood-track.I picked a blade of grass from the spot which was tinged with blood; and holding it to the dog's nose, he eagerly followed me to the track; upon which I dropped it.He went off in a moment; but, running mute, I was obliged to follow; and after a chase of a quarter of a mile I lost sight of him.In following up the foot-track of the wounded deer I heard the distant barking of the dog, by which I knew that he had brought the buck to bay, and I was soon at the spot.The buck had taken up a position in a small glade, and was charging the dog furiously; but the pariah was too knowing to court the danger, and kept well out of the way.I shot the buck, and, tying a piece of jungle-rope to the dog's neck, gave him to a gun-bearer to lead, as I hoped he might be again useful in hunting up a wounded deer.
I had not proceeded more than half a mile, when we arrived at the edge of a small sluggish stream, covered in most places with rushes and water-lilies.We forded this about hip-deep, but the gun-bearer who had the dog could not prevail upon our mute companion to follow; he pulled violently back and shrinked, and evinced every symptom of terror at the approach of water.
I was now at the opposite bank, and nothing would induce him to come near the river, so I told the gun-bearer to drag him across by force.
This he accordingly did, and the dog swam with frantic exertions across the river, and managed to disengage his head from the rope.The moment that he arrived on terra firma he rushed up a steep bank and looked attentively down into the water beneath.
We now gave him credit for his sagacity in refusing to cross the dangerous passage.The reeds bowed down to the right and left as a huge crocodile of about eighteen feet in length moved slowly from his shallow bed into a deep hole.The dog turned to the right-about, and went off as fast as his legs would carry him.No calling or whistling would induce him to return, and I never saw him again.How he knew that a crocodile was in the stream I cannot imagine.He must have had a narrow escape at some former time, which was a lesson that he seemed determined to profit by.
Shortly after the disappearance of the dog, I separated from my companion and took a different line of country.Large plains, with thorny jungles and bushes of the long cockspur thorn interspersed, formed the character of the ground.This place literally swarmed with peafowl, partridges, and deer.I killed another peacock, and the shot disturbed a herd of about sixty deer, who bounded over the plain till out of sight.I tracked up this herd for nearly a mile, when I observed them behind a large bush; some were lying down and others were standing.
A buck and doe presently quitted the herd, and advancing a few paces from the bush they halted, and evidently winded me.I was screening myself behind a small tree, and the open ground between me and the game precluded the possibility of a nearer approach.It was a random distance for a deer, but I took a rest against the stem of the tree and fired at the buck as he stood with his broadside exposed, being shoulder to shoulder with the doe.Away went the herd, flying over the plain; but, to my delight, there were two white bellies struggling upon the ground.
I ran up to cut their throats; (1 This is necessary to allow the blood to escape, otherwise they would be unfit for food) the two-ounce ball had passed through the shoulders of both; and I stepped the distance to the tree from which I had fired, 'two hundred and thirteen paces.'
Shortly after this 1 got another shot which, by a chance, killed two deer.I was strolling through a narrow glade with open jungles upon either side, when I suddenly heard a quick double shot, followed by the rush of a large herd of deer coming through the jungle.I immediately lay flat upon the ground, and presently an immense herd of full a hundred deer passed across the glade at full gallop, within seventy yards of me.Jumping up, I fired at a doe, and, to my surprise, two deer fell to the shot, one of which was a fawn; the ball had passed through the shoulder of the mother, and had broken the fawn's neck upon the opposite side.I am astonished that this chance of killing two at one shot does not more often happen when the dense body of a herd of deer is exposed to a rifle-ball.
Deer-stalking is one of the most exciting sports in the world.I have often crept upon hands and knees for upwards of a quarter of a mile through mud and grass to get a shot at a fine antlered buck.It frequently happens that after a long stalk in this manner, when some sheltering object is reached which you have determined upon for the shot, just as you raise your head above the grass in expectation of seeing the game, you find a blank.He has watched your progress by the nose, although the danger was hidden from his view, and your trouble is unrewarded.
In all wild shooting, in every country and climate, the `wind' is the first consideration.If you hunt down wind you will never get a deer.
