16 THE HUNTING GROUNDS 



Walter pulled up at once, and I noticed Ponto, 

 his canine friend, had also caught up the sound, 

 for he had his head knowingly cocked on one side, 

 as if he was listening carefully, and his nose ele- 

 vated, as if he was trying to sniff the air, whilst a 

 small stump — an apology for a tail — made sundry 

 eccentric movements, indicating that something was 

 in the wind. 



After a moment's pause, Walter touched my 

 shoulder, and whispered below his breath, " That 

 was the bark of a buck elk, so cock your rifle and 

 step in front, as I want you to kill him ; he cannot 

 be far off, therefore keep a bright look-out, and 

 be very careful not to make the slightest noise." 



I stole noiselessly along the run, following the 

 slots, which were distinctly visible, until I came to a 

 more open spot, where the jungle had been burnt 

 the preceding year, and, crouching behind a thick 

 bush, I had the extreme satisfaction of seeing the 

 herd, consisting of three harts and fourteen or 

 fifteen hinds, some of which had fawns at heel, 

 quietly cropping the herbage about two hundred 

 yards distant. 



It was a glorious sight, and I felt my heart 

 thump against my ribs as I gazed for some seconds, 

 too full of admiration to think of firing, when 

 Walter, touching my shoulder, whispered, "They 

 are too far off to make certain, so try and crawl 

 under cover of the bushes to that thick clump, and 

 you will get an easy shot. If you go carefully you 



