32 BIG GAME SHOOTING 



in the Caucasus where the boar could be hunted on horseback, 

 and even there the hunting would be but a very short scurry 

 at early dawn from the maize fields to the foot-hills, the shelter 

 of which once gained, the quarry would be absolutely safe from 

 any mounted enemy. 



Enormous as their numbers are, wild boars would be even 

 more numerous between the Black Sea and the Caspian, were 

 it not for their nocturnal raids on the maize fields of the 

 natives, most of whom, being Mahommedans, only hunt the 

 marauders in self-defence, not deigning to so much as touch 

 them when dead. The Cossacks, of course, have no such 

 scruples about pork, and the principal object left in life to the 

 old scouts (' plastouns '), who were wont to keep the Kuban 

 red with Tcherkess blood, is the pursuit of the boar. 



In the great reed beds in which they used to lurk waiting 

 until the men of some native ' aoul ' went out to harvest, that 

 they might give the village to sword and flame, these same 

 scouts wander to-day, grey as the boars they hunt, rough, 

 savage, and uncouth as their quarry, wounded probably in a 

 score of places, but silent-footed, enduring, and as well acquainted 

 with every game path in the reeds as the very beasts which 

 made them. These are the men to obtain for guides if you can 

 get them, but beware of paying them a single kopeck as long as 

 there is a cabak (whisky shop) within a day's march of you. 

 As a rule the plastoun shoots his game at night, waiting 

 by some wallow or by the side of some swine path leading to 

 water or fruit trees, until he hears a rustling among the reeds, 

 sounding strangely loud in the moonlit August night, and 

 growing nearer and nearer until between the watcher and the 

 skyline comes a great dark bulk. Round the muzzle of his old 

 musket the plastoun ties a w^hite string with a large knot in it, 

 where the foresight should be, and aiming low into the middle 

 of the dark mass, pulls his trigger when the boar is almost on 

 the muzzle of his rifle. My first experience of boar shooting 

 was connected with such a shot as this ; but on that occasion 

 the victory rested with the boar. Through a long summer 



