DEER-SHOOTING AND OTHER MATTERS. 87 



season had ended, and the hinds were still calling all 

 over the higher ranges. A cup of coffee about two in 

 the morning, and then off with the dogs and one attend- 

 ant. The first mile is perfectly flat, then the moun- 

 tains rise like a wall to about 1000 feet, gaining height 

 as ridge after ridge follows each other, until they reach 

 2500 feet, about a mile back from where they spring 

 from the plain. The whole of this endless range of 

 mountains runs right away into the interior of the 

 country. Valleys, some large, but mostly quite small, 

 intersect the country, and on these rice is almost 

 invariably grown. Following a woodcutters' path back 

 from the first line of ridges, half a mile or so, we 

 reached a well-known and favourite deep cleft in the 

 hills, where the matted cover was sufficient to shelter 

 any number of deer. It was quite dark, and not a leaf 

 stirred, so still was the morning air. We remained per- 

 fectly quiet for a quarter of an hour, when a cold, grey 

 sort of light began to steal over the black hill-sides. 

 A cock pheasant crowed far away to the eastward, 

 another immediately answered him, then several all 

 round. Ten minutes elapsed, and the note of a warbler 

 came from the cover on the opposite hill-side. At this 

 moment I heard several raps on the stem of a fir-tree 

 not forty yards below where I stood. I knew at once 



