THE FUN OF HUNTING 153 



faithful friend it had followed me on my plunge, and 

 I now saw it rapidly disappearing in the hole, butt- 

 end first, and, for all I knew, on its way to the 

 antipodes. The guide saw it too, and reaching over 

 caught it by the muzzle, in time to stop its mad, or 

 rather mud-career, and proudly restored it to the 

 hands of its owner. 



Its " owner's " hands, as well as every other part of 

 him, needed some restoring. My trousers were be- 

 daubed an inch thick with the sticky stuff, and my 

 drawers so thoroughly soaked that I wondered if ever 

 again they would be dry. But I consoled myself 

 with the old Dutchman's proverb: "Dime dries all 

 dings," and thought, in the course of events, it might 

 " dry " mine. 



But as my comfort was not disposed to wait for 

 time to do the work, I started the guide on a run to 

 camp for fresh clothing. Then I pulled off my boots 

 — no easy job — divested my legs of the drawers and 

 trousers, and then in bare limbs trudged through the 

 wet grass to a neighboring brook. I brought with 

 me my boots for the purpose of ridding them of the 

 mud that loaded them inside and out, and also 

 brought my watch, cartridges, matches and compass. 

 The latter articles I had taken from my trousers' 

 pocket and tied in a handkerchief for convenient 

 carrying. I reached the brook and commenced my 

 washtub business, but before I got through with one 



