254 WITH BOAT AND GUN IN THE YANGTZE VALLEY. 



It appears that they had been working the big reed bed on the North side of the main 

 creek close to the town of Nadoo. At lunch time they pulled up just outside a village, 

 deposited their guns and game, and were enjoying their snack when suddenly one of the 

 weapons went off and a frightful scene ensued. A little child was in its last throes. The 

 visitors then apparently lost their heads for they ran towards their boat which was 

 anchored mid-stream two or three // off. The crowd followed them, and in their fright the 

 fugitives took to the water, where, of course, they were at the mercy of their pursuers. 

 How they were ever induced to square the trouble by giving an order on the bank for 

 $700 was never properly explained ; but give the order they did, and paid it was to my 

 knowledge. 



As Consul-General Jamieson says elsewhere "It is cowardly to run away. Always face 

 the miscJdef whatever it may be." 



In the winter of 1869 our shooting party consisted of Messrs. C. Woodward, Charlie 

 Cromie (half brother, by the way, of the well-known statesman Viscount Milner, but as jovial 

 as the other was serious) and " Waithy " Long. The direction of affairs was placed in the 

 hands of Woodward, on the lucus a non lucendo principle, perhaps, because he know less 

 about field work than any of us. As I happened to be the only doggy member of the party 

 each gun took his turn to go out shooting with me. But I had a spare animal, a red curly 

 haired brute of a retriever with a mouth and jaws that well might have been forged by 

 Vulcan and a will that was all his own. Verily he was a hard case, but Woodward could 

 manage him, so he said. It was Long's turn to shoot with me, so Woodward and Cromie and 

 the dog went their own way The day was fine and the sport promised to be good, for we 

 were in the far-famed Pintahu Creek. Long and I had not gone far when we saw the 

 boat flag being waved in an adjoining field by one of the boat coolies. On coming up with 

 the standard bearer we asked him " what thing : how fashion ? " The only answer we got 

 was " have killem." " Here's a pretty how do you do," said Long, so we hurried up to the 

 boat. On our way we came across the lowdah whose only information was, "Have largee 

 spoilem." And then we came upon the boats. From one issued forth Woodward with a 

 face as long and as pale as Gaspard's in les cloches de Corneville, who merely ejaculated 

 "I've potted Cromie." Woodward always was laconic. We interviewed the sufferer 

 and found him one great smear of blood, but happily more frightened than seriously hurt. 

 So we disrobed him, and washed him, and plugged in any number of bits of cotton to staunch 

 the sanguinary flow, and gave him what he was well known to like, a "una pinta," which 

 seemingly worked wonders. And now came Woodward's graphic explanation of the 

 accident. In order to bring the dog into closer working range Woodward kept pelting the 

 animal with clods and stones. In order to avoid being struck the dog naturally kept further 

 away. Suddenly a pheasant got up between the guns, and Woodward with characteristic 

 energy banged at it, happily missing the intervening coolie who was walking between them 

 or there would have been a funeral, but successfully landing a portion of the charge, No. 2 

 shot, if you please "because it always kills outright, you know," on Cromie's honoured 

 person. This incident put an abrupt end to the trip as far as wounder and wounded were 

 concerned, and they at once returned to Shanghai. 



