214. THE HUNTING GROUNDS 



cover, and presently a low yelp told us that one of 

 the pack had taken up the scent. ' Hark to old 

 Ponto!" cried the major, who was ensconced behind 

 a rhododendron-bush a few paces distant from me ; 

 and a smile of contentment gleamed over the time- 

 worn and weather-beaten physiognomy of the old 

 sportsman as he recognised the voice of his favourite 

 hound. " Hush ! hark ! there he goes again. The 

 game 's afoot, take my word for it. He never gives 

 tongue without a cause, so pass the word along the 

 line to keep a bright look-out. There goes Rupert 

 and Gelert chiming in." Shortly after this prelude, 

 hound after hound opened on scent and took up the 

 cry, until at last the harmonious chorus burst forth 

 from the ravine, and awoke the echoes of the sur- 

 rounding woods. I need not describe to sportsmen 

 the intense excitement and pleasurable sensations 

 this melody raised in our hearts ; for we knew that 

 the deer were afoot, and each internally wished that 

 they might break sufficiently near to give him a 

 shot. From time to time the crashing of branches 

 informed us that the herd were close at hand, and 

 each prepared to raise his deadly weapon, but again 

 and again they broke back. At last an enormous 

 buck-elk, with widely-spreading antlers, summoned 

 resolution to leave the cover, and came tearing 

 through the bushes with mighty elastic bounds 

 some distance to my right, and within easy range 



of W and K , who let drive double shots 



with apparently little effect, for he continued his 



