HUNTING IN INDIA. 237 



very serviceable-looking, and the depth of the water 

 is not great enough to impede his movements. I 

 wade cautiously in, rather behind than in front of him, 

 but looking out cautiously for a kick. The danger of 

 this particular " stick " consists in the fact that the 

 stag has long since recovered his wind, and is in full 

 possession of his senses and activity. Aroused by my 

 arrival, the hounds redouble their attacks, which are 

 mostly vocal. However, they distract him for a 

 minute. I run hastily in, and seizing the base of the 

 left antler, thrust my knife, edge uppermost, into the 

 broad chest. A swing of his head sends me flying 

 and staggering, almost on my back, half across the 

 pond. But the knife has gone home, as the low 

 bellow of pain and wrath attests. The smell of the 

 blood excites the hounds, who can hardly be restrained 

 from dashing on the spear-pointed horns. Slowly the 

 stag's strength leaves him, his knees bend and he is 

 down. We drag him to shore, and there and then, to 

 the accompaniment of St. Paul's Church bells, he is 

 gralloched, and the offal thrown to the eager pack. 

 My next proceeding is to have the stag taken to the 

 friend's house to which I am bound, where the pack 



are shut up till F can send for them. 



The danger of tackling an unwounded stag with a 

 knife is considerable, especially if the wielder of the 

 weapon does not understand what he is about. Not 

 long before the incidents I am relating a young 

 Englishman, new to Ceylon, met his death from this 

 cause. The deer it was a hind was " set up " in 

 somewhat shallow water. As he went in to knife it 



