260 WITH BOAT AND GUN IN THE YANGTZE VALLEY. 



warn them of the consequences, to save my own dog I had no alternative but to sacrifice theirs. 

 Now the music began. I had killed the best dog in China, and they were evidently 

 swearing by all their nine gods that they would do for me and my belongings. 



My situation to put it mildly was awkward, for their business-like sickles were horribly 

 suggestive, and I found to my stupefaction that I was upon an island. There was no time 

 for anything but action, and quick action at that, so edging my way to the punt back- 

 wards I kept the howling dervishes in front of and off me. But imagine the quandary in 

 which I now was. The punt, evidently a family concern, was rapidly being pushed out into 

 a wide lagoon, and I found myself enjoying a "splendid isolation." But it did not take me 

 two minutes to make up my mind, so shouldering my gun, butt upwards, I walked into the 

 water and swam the 40 feet of creek that separated me from my coolie with the game. 

 Chagrined for the moment the reed-cutters shouted for the punt to come to them and when 

 near enough they made a rush simultaneously to get into her. The result greatly favoured me 

 for the craft turned turtle, and it took some minutes to bail her out and ferry my pursuers over. 

 To my joy, prudence had enjoined them to cross over two at a time. This gave me ample 

 time to gety and I got, but a keen north west wind right my face, my clothes gradually 

 freezing on me, and no chance of betterment until I reached my boat which was a good 

 2 miles away, were not what one might with any truth term a pleasant experience. Well, 

 the long and short of it was that I got safely out of a mess which at one time promised to be 

 serious enough, and as I got between the blankets on my return to get thawed I wondered 

 what others could have or would have done under the circumstances. It seemed a cruel 

 thing to shoot the native dog, and that a handsome one I should like to have owned, but I 

 had no alternative but to lay him out him if I would save my own animal. I shall not soon 



forget that long, cold trudge on that high, cheerless embankment. 



* * * * 



Few shooting trips ever gave brighter promise of grand results than one undertaken 

 by Mr. R. H. Percival, Mr. H. McMinnies and myself. It was in November 1874. We 

 were in the Pintahu Creek, birds were much in evidence and we were doing well. On the 

 two days 15th and l6th November 97 pheasants besides extras were hung up in the boats. 

 Here let me give the very words in my diary. 



Tuesday, 17th November. — Sharp frost overnight, bright sunny morning, pleasant 

 north-westerly breeze. This was an eventful day and night have been attended by very 

 serious consequences. Percival had branched off to the westward and "M" and I worked 

 towards the east; working occasionally together, separately at other times. At about II. 30 I 

 was attracted by "M's" shouts who had shot a deer, which three countrymen were attempting 

 to take from him by force. I gradually induced the men to stand off, but an old stager with 

 a black moustache joined the crowd that was now growing, and it is a most wonderful thing 

 in China how_ crowds so suddenly appear, even in comparatively isolated places. They 

 seem to spring up like mushrooms and give a lot of trouble. He kept on shouting 'Ta Ta,' 

 'hit,' 'strike,' at the top of his voice, and fresh numbers coming on the scene, we soon found 

 ourselves powerless to evade their long heavy hoes. However, we were wise enough to 

 laugh at their attack which gradually subsided, and a couple of dollars to the leader to take 

 the deer back to the boat closed the incident. It is scarcely necessary to say that that 

 deer never reached its promised destination. 



