JACKAL HUNTING ON THE NEILGHERRIES, 1876. 135 



numbers into a fast pack and a slow one. This, of course, has 

 to be done in total disregard of appearance, size, and sex ; but 

 a nearer approach to uniformity in work is reached, and, by 

 dint of leaving at home the fleetest member of the fast pack, 

 and the two or three slowest of the slow, a very respectable 

 result is attained. Both packs are now in the best of wind and 

 condition ; they can carry an " elegant " head, and each hound 

 can feel that he is taking his part in the work. Nor are they a 

 very wild or intractable lot, though this constant drawing in the 

 open for their game might make the steadiest old southerners 

 ■somewhat flighty and skittish at starting. They are eager and 

 excited already, no doubt ; for do they not know as well as we 

 do that a skulking jackal may jump up at any moment under 

 their noses ? 



So, keeping them well closed up together, we search the hill- 

 sides, scouts being sent on to each eminence, as if in an enemy's 

 country. We give all coverts a wide berth, for in them we 

 always fight at a disadvantage with our wily foe. The only 

 divergence from a straight line is to the neighbourhood of a 

 dead horse — that should be a sure find in the early morning ; 

 But no, though his jack-enticing aroma scents the breeze to a 

 horrible extent, and his ghastly sides show the recent ravages of 

 the noble scavenger, we must move on still, and the sooner we 

 do so the better. 



But what is that brown spot meandering along the green 

 brow half a mile away % By all that's holy in sport, it's a jack ! 

 Close up, gentlemen, but don't hurry the hounds now ! He's 

 just over the hill and out of sight. But he's sure to wait for 

 us. " Steady, hounds, steady ! " they know " the little game " 

 thoroughly. Everyone of them is roused almost as quickly as 

 we are ; but they haven't caught a view, so can only look to us 

 for the signal. Cantering slowly up the ascent, we get their 

 noses down near the line. Yo-o-i ! yo-oi ! They fling them- 

 selves round, catch a sweet sudden whiff, to which they swing 

 as if magnetised, then, with every tongue at its loudest, bluster 

 noisily over the hilltop. True enough, Mr. Jack has waited for 



