A Dog in Exile. 65 



of Hamingoes in a lagoon ; they were standing in the 

 water, about seventy-five or eighty yards from the 

 shore, quietly dozing. Fortunately the lagoon was 

 bordered by a dense bed of tall rushes, about fifteen 

 yards in breadth, so that I was able to approach 

 the birds unseen by them. I crept up to the rushes 

 in a fever of delighted excitement ; not that flamin- 

 goes are not common in that district, but because I 

 had noticed that one of the birds before me was the 

 largest and loveliest flamingo I had ever set eyes 

 on, and I had long been anxious to secure one very 

 perfect specimen. I think my hand trembled a 

 great deal ; nevertheless, the bird dropped when I 

 fired ; and then how quickly the joy I experienced 

 was changed to despair when I looked on the wide 

 expanse of mud, reeds and water that separated 

 him from me ! How was I ever to get him ? for it 

 is as much as a man's life is worth to venture into 

 one of these long river-like lagoons in the valley, 

 as under the quiet water there is a bed of mire, soft 

 as clotted cream, and deep enough for a giant's 

 grave. I thought of Major, but not for a moment 

 did I believe that he, poor dog ! was equal to the 

 task. When I fired he dashed hurriedly forward, 

 and came against the wall of close rushes, where he 

 struggled hopelessly for a little while, and then 

 floundered back to me. There was, however, nothing 

 else to be done. " Major, come here," I called, 

 and, taking a lump of clay I threw it as far as I 

 could towards the floating bird. He raised his ears, 

 and listened to get the right direction, and when the 



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