HUNTING IN INDIA. 235. 



forgotten. The hounds dash into cover, F follows 



them, and I am left looking at the glorious scene. 

 The mist fills the hollows, and the peaks rise like 

 islands in a gray sea. Gradually the rising sun 

 disperses the mist and the deep valleys come into view, 

 till at last I see the town and lake of Kandy, nearly 

 three thousand feet below. 



But hark ! a challenge interrupts my thoughts, and 

 soon it is taken up by various hounds, and the chorus 

 swells. At first it comes towards me, and then I hear 

 a crash below, followed by a loud " Tally ho, away ! " 



from F . The hounds fly to his voice, and I tear 



down the hill, catching sight only of a couple of forms 

 bounding on below me. A slight turn lets me in. 



" A stag?" I inquire. 



" Yes, a big one." But we want all our wind to 

 follow. Down, down we go. We cross the Kandy 

 road, and the jungle gets thicker and the cry of hounds 

 fainter. At last I get into an awful place. The jungle 

 is literally so thick that I am some feet from the 

 ground, and even my weight no longer enables me to 

 divide the thorny branches. I have to get out my 

 hunting-knife, and cut my way through. Even then 

 it takes me some twenty minutes, and when I emerge, 

 all signs of the chase have disappeared. There is 

 nothing for it but to return to the bungalow. On my 

 way I overtake one of. the field, an elderly planter, who 

 has been choked off before myself. 



" Heaven knows where they've gone," says he. 

 " This is a desperate side of the district for hunting." 



We return to the bungalow, and I find the coolie with 



