284 SHOOTING IN CHINA 



Freed from his antioyer my clog began work- 

 ing out the scent of the bird which by this 

 time had gained the shelter of a small strip 

 of reeds, but no sooner had he entered the 

 cover than the wonk attacked him in the 

 rear, biting through his foot and rendering 

 my favourite useless for three whole days. 

 And he then began to savage him in that 

 way for which native dogs have an un- 

 enviable notoriety. By this time half a 

 dozen reed cutters came upon the scene. I 

 begged of them to get their dog away, but 

 either they did not or would not under- 

 stand me, but seemed to enjoy the situation 

 immensely. And there was I with the 

 prospect of a ruined trip before me, a 

 maimed dog and no possibility of redress. So 

 after giving them a fair warning, in order 

 to save my own dog I had no recourse but 

 to sacrifice theirs. Now the music began 

 in earnest. I had killed the best dog in 

 China, and they swore by all their nine 

 gods that they would do both for me and 

 my belongings. My situation was — well, 

 to say the least — awkward, for their busi- 

 ness like sickles were horribly ugly looking, 

 and I found to my horror that I was upon 

 an island. There was no time for delay .so 



