1 66 The Rifle and Hound in Ceylon. 



was bristled up, his nostrils were distended, and his 

 antlers were lowered to receive the dog who should 

 first attack him. I happened to have a spear on that 

 occasion, so that I felt he could not escape, and I gave 

 the baying dogs a loud cheer on. Poor Cato ! it was 

 his first elk, and he little knew the danger of a buck at 

 bay in such a strong position. Answering with youth- 

 ful ardor to my halloa, the young dog sprang boldly at 

 the elk's face, but, caught upon the ready antlers, he 

 was instantly dashed senseless upon the rocks. Now 

 for old Smut, the hero of countless battles, who, though 

 pluck to the back-bone, always tempers his valor with 

 discretion ! 



Yoick to him, Smut! and I jumped into the water. 

 The buck made a rush forward, but at that moment a 

 mass of yellow hair dangled before his eyes as the true 

 old dog hung upon his cheek. Now came the tug of 

 war only one seizer ! The spring had been so great, 

 and the position of the buck was so secure, that the dog 

 had missed the ear, and only held by the cheek. The 

 elk, in an instant, saw his advantage, and quickly 

 thrusting his sharp brow antlers into the dog's chest, 

 he reared to his full height and attempted to pin the 

 apparently fated Smut against a rock. That had been 

 the last of Smut's days of prowess had I not fortunately 

 had a spear. I could just reach the elk's shoulder in 

 time to save the dog. After a short but violent strug- 

 gle, the buck yielded up his spirit. He was a noble 

 fellow, and pluck to the last. 



Having secured his horns to a bush, lest he should be 

 washed away by the torrent, I examined the dogs. 

 Smut was wounded in two places, but not severely, and 

 Cato had just recovered his senses, but was so bruised 



