210 THE IMAGE OF WAR 



islands in a grey sea. Gradually the rising sun dis- 

 perses the mist and the deep valleys come into view, 

 till at last I see the town and lake of Kandy, nearly 

 three thousand feet below. 



But hark ! a challenge interrupts my thoughts, and 

 soon it is taken up by various hounds, and the chorus 

 swells. At first it comes towards me, and then I hear 

 a crash below, followed by a loud "Tally-ho, away !" 



from F . The hounds fly to his voice, and I tear 



down the hill, catching sight only of a couple of forms 

 bounding on below me.. A slight turn lets me in. 



" A stag ? " I inquire. 



" Yes, a big one." But we want all our wind to 

 follow. Down, down we go. We cross the Kandy 

 road, and the jungle gets thicker and the cry of 

 hounds fainter. At last I get into an awful place. 

 The lantana is literally so thick that I am some feet 

 from the ground, and even my weight no longer 

 enables me to divide the thorny branches. I have 

 to get out my hunting - knife and cut my way 

 through. Even then it takes me some twenty 

 minutes, and when I emerge, all signs of the chase 

 have disappeared. There is nothing for it but to 

 return to the bungalow. On my way I overtake 

 one of the field, an elderly planter, who has been 

 choked off before myself. 



'' Heaven knows where they've gone," says he. 

 "This is a desperate side of the district for hunt- 

 mg. 



We return to the bungalow, and I find the coolie 

 with my box has started for Kandy, where I had 

 promised to breakfast. So I must ride down as 

 I am, although my clothes are rather ragged 

 from the morning's work. Before F 's horse is 



