i86 THE RIFLE AND HOUND IN CEYLON, chap. vui. 



upon the ready antlers, he was instantly dashed sense- 

 less upon the rocks. Now for old Smut, the hero of 

 countless battles, who, though pluck to the back-bone, 

 always tempers his valour 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 brown 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 struggle, 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 as to move with great difficulty. In addition 

 to this, he had a deep wound from the buck's horn 

 under the shoulder. 



The great number of elk at the Horton Plains, 



