80 Spinning for Mahseer. CHAP. v. 



But they can talk civil talk to each other also. I had a fine heavy dog, 

 half fox-hound, half Cuban blood-hound, which had an excellent nose. 

 He came on the scent of antelope, and followed it up till it was warm, 

 and he could make it out. Knowing from sad experience that he was 

 much too portly to catch an antelope himself, Jim abruptly left the 

 scent, and went in search of Juno, the fleetest of the kangaroo hounds, 

 then hunting for herself about a quarter-of-a-mile off. Back the two 

 scampere^i together in a great hurry, he picked up the old scent, and 

 followed it up, till he fairly laid her in view, and then away she went, 

 he keeping her in sight as best he could by cutting corners. To bring 

 her away from her own chances of sport, and that so promptly, and to 

 get her to accompany him back in such a hurry, he must have conveyed 

 to her mind a very clear idea of some definite sport immediately in 

 hand. No human being interfered. They did it all themselves. But 

 dogs can also make themselves intelligible to men, for we have lived 

 so much with them that we have in some measure learned their 

 language. Though we do not know all they say about it, man can 

 well understand from the manner of a dog's giving tongue, when it 

 thinks it has hit upon a scent, and when it is sure it has a warm one, 

 and when it is in view. A dog's whimper, its giving tongue, baying, 

 barking, growling, moaning, howling, yelping, are all distinct sounds, 

 with a distinct significance, which man has learnt to understand. He 

 has learnt a little also of the many different intonations in those sounds, 

 of the differing force of expression in them, and of the looks of face, 

 and motions of tail, and sometimes of paw and tongue and raised 

 bristle with which they are accompanied. If he knew more he would 

 understand also how dogs speak to each other in apparent silence by 

 signs, or expressions of countenance, or in audible words, that man 

 cannot follow, or cannot hear. 



How does a bison tell its calf that it must run in front of the herd 

 and lead the pace, and having told it this, how does it make it under- 

 stand the line of country to be taken ? All this it does in apparent 

 silence, and you may observe the little one looking back when in doubt 

 for instructions. 



How does an antelope, on the approach of danger, tell its little one, 

 not yet old enough to run, to lie down instantly, and not to stir for its 

 life till called? 



How does a sheep call its particular lamb out of a hundred or more, 



