3 2 ° 
WILD BEASTS AND THEIR WA YS 
CHAP. 
The stag knows nothing of these new enemies, 
and he is not going at his maximum speed ; they 
are. The greyhounds are closing on him as he* 
nears the stream that runs through the centre of the 
plain—that same stream in which he took his last 
drink this morning. 
Suddenly he sees the dogs within ioo paces 
of him, and the true race begins. They are too 
quick ; they are upon either flank. Presently one 
turns a somersault, as a vigorous kick sends the 
dog flying backwards, but the next has him by one 
ear. The discomfited hound recovers, and rushes 
to the front; the other ear is pinned. 
Now the strength of a sambur stag is seen. He 
gallops forward with the two dogs gallantly hanging 
to his ears. The ground is rough, and covered with 
large stumps of a coarse grass; against these 
obstacles the bodies of the dogs are swung with 
terrific force as the stag ploughs onwards, through 
the soft earth and swamp ; but the good dogs never 
relax their hold. At length the stag trots—now 
slowly—then he walks. The dogs now regain their 
feet, and hold like a blacksmith’s vice. 
In the meantime the view halloo had been given 
the instant that the greyhounds had been slipped. 
The well-known sound, repeated twice or thrice, had 
been answered by the pack, and every hound came 
thundering down straight for the cry, disdaining all 
the attractive charms of scent. The long-legged 
dogs that had been running mute would oe within 
view, and tearing to the assistance of the nearly 
