98 THE RIFLE AND HOUND IN CEYLON, chap. v. 



exactly facing me. His deep tracks in the mud were 

 about five feet apart, so great was his stride and 

 length of limb, and, although the soft bog was at least 

 three and a half feet deep, his belly was full two feet 

 above the surface. He was a fine fellow, and, with 

 intense caution, I advanced towards him over the 

 trembling surface of baked slime. His tracks had 

 nearly filled with water, and looked like little wells. 

 The bog waved as I walked carefully over it, and I 

 stopped once or twice, hesitating whether I should 

 continue ; I feared the crusty surface would not 

 support me, as the nearer I approached the water's 

 edge the weaker the coating of slime became, not 

 having been exposed for so long a time to the sun as 

 that at a greater distance. 



He was making so much noise in splashing the 

 mud over his body that I had a fine chance for getting 

 up to him. I could not withstand the temptation, 

 and I crept up as fast as I could. 



I got within eight paces of him unperceived ; the 

 mud that he threw over his back spattered round me 

 as it fell. I was carrying a light double-barrelled gun, 

 but I now reached back my hand to exchange it for 

 my four-ounce rifle. Little did I expect the sudden 

 effect produced by the additional weight of the heavy 

 weapon. The treacherous surface suddenly gave way, 

 and in an instant I Was waist deep in mud. The noise 

 that I had made in falling had at once aroused the 



