NOTES BY AN OLD SPORTSMAN 283 



an end comes to all things and a half hour's 

 trudge found me in the enjoyment of that 

 comfort which only a houseboat grants. It 

 goes without saying that I should hesitate 

 to repeat such foolhardiness to-day. 



Shooting not long ago to the north of the 

 Mowsan, a high range of hills a few miles 

 distant from the city of Kiulang, I happened 

 to strike a small strip of country unusually 

 favoured with water considering the 

 droughtiness of the season. Where water 

 was there were pheasants. I had made a 

 good bag, eight brace during the morning, 

 and things were going along nicely enough 

 until put a stop to by an untoward incident. 

 I had dropped a cock pheasant across a 

 creek into the open plough, and my dog 

 went after it. On his attempting to scram- 

 ble up the precipitous bank, a native dog, 

 showing an enviable set of ivories, put so 

 much fear into him that my animal was 

 compelled to give up the quest and return 

 to me. A couple of natives saw my pre- 

 dicament and offered to punt me across. 

 On landing the native dog, a mighty fine 

 specimen of his kind, again began to worry 

 my pointer, but a luckily directed " half- 

 brick " diverted his attention for a time. 



