Not a sound of the
pack was now to be heard; but this man declared most positively
that the elk had suddenly changed his course, and, instead of
keeping down the hill, had struck off to his left along the side
of the mountain. Accordingly, off I started as hard as I could
go with several natives, who all agreed as to the direction.
After running for about a mile along the patinas in the line
which I judged the pack had taken, I heard one hound at bay in a
narrow jungle high up on my left. It was only the halt of an
instant, for the next moment I heard the same hound's voice
evidently running on the other side of the strip of jungle, and
taking off down the mountain straight for the dreaded river.
Here was a day's work cut out as neatly as could be.
Running toward the spot, I found the buck's track leading in that
direction, and I gave two or three view halloos at the top of my
voice to bring the rest of the pack down upon it. They were
close at hand, but the high wind had prevented me from hearing
them, and away they came from the jungle, rushing down upon the
scent like a flock of birds. I stepped of the track to let them
pass as they swept by, and "For-r-r-a-r-d to him! For-r--r-ard!"
was the word the moment they had passed, as I gave them a halloo
down the hill.
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