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Baker, Samuel White, Sir, 1821-1893

"Eight Years' Wanderings in Ceylon"

The poor dogs seemed aware of the danger,
and made the most extraordinary efforts to avoid their fate.
They were my two favorites of the pack, and I screamed out words
of encouragement to them, although the voice of a cannon could
not have been heard among the roar of waters. They had nearly
gained the bank oil the very ver-e of the fall, when a few tufts
of lemon grass concealed them from my view. I thought they were
over, and I could not restrain a cry of despair at their horrible
fate. I felt sick with the idea. But the next moment I was
shouting hurrah! they are all right, thank goodness, they were
saved. I saw them struggling up the steep bank, through the same
lemon grass, which had for a moment obscured their fate. They
were thoroughly exhausted and half drowned.
In the mean time, the elk had manfully breasted the rapids,
carefully choosing the shallow places; and the whole pack, being
mad with excitement, had plunged into the waters regardless of
the danger. I thought every hound would have been lost. For an
instant they looked like a flock of ducks, but a few moments
afterward they were scattered in the boiling eddies, hurrying
with fatal speed toward the dreadful cataract.


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