258 THE RIFLE AND HOUND TN CEYLON, chap. xi. 



At last the plains were reached. We pulled up 

 our panting steeds, and strained every nerve to hear 

 the cry of the hounds. The snorting of the horses pre- 

 vented our hearing any distant sound, and I gave a 

 holloa and listened for some answering voice from a 

 dog. Instead of a sound, Bran and Lucifer suddenly 

 appeared. This was conclusive evidence that the pack 

 was somewhere in this direction, and we rode out into 

 the plain and again listened. Hark to old Smut ! 

 there was his deep voice echoing from the opposite 

 hills. Yoick to him, Bran ! forward to him, Lucifer ! 

 and away the greyhounds dashed towards the spot 

 from which the sound proceeded. The plain forms a 

 wide valley, with a river winding through the centre, 

 and we galloped over the patinas after the greyhounds 

 in full speed. There was no mistaking the bay. I 

 could now distinguish Merriman's fine voice in addi- 

 tion to that of old Smut, and a general chorus of other 

 tongues joined in, till the woods rang again. The 

 horses knew the sport, and away they went, but 

 suddenly over went old Jack, belly-deep in a bog, and 

 sent me flying over his head. There is nothing like 

 companionship in an accident, and Momus accordingly 

 pitched upon his nose in the same bog, my brother 

 describing a fine spread-eagle as he sprawled in the 

 soft ground. We were close to the bay ; the horses 

 extricated themselves directly, and again mounting we 

 rode hard to the spot 



