The Rifle And The Hound In Ceylon(Fiscle Part-3), Sir Samuel White Baker [most inspirational books .txt] 📗

Of Me. Jumping Up,  I Fired At A Doe,  And,  To My Surprise,  Two Deer

Fell To The Shot,  One Of Which Was A Fawn; The Ball Had Passed Through

The Shoulder Of The Mother,  And Had Broken The Fawn's Neck Upon The

Opposite Side. I Am Astonished That This Chance Of Killing Two At One

Shot Does Not More Often Happen When The Dense Body Of A Herd Of Deer Is

Exposed To A Rifle-Ball.

 

Deer-Stalking Is One Of The Most Exciting Sports In The World. I Have

Often Crept Upon Hands And Knees For Upwards Of A Quarter Of A Mile

Through Mud And Grass To Get A Shot At A Fine Antlered Buck. It

Frequently Happens That After A Long Stalk In This Manner,  When Some

Sheltering Object Is Reached Which You Have Determined Upon For The

Shot,  Just As You Raise Your Head Above The Grass In Expectation Of

Seeing The Game,  You Find A Blank. He Has Watched Your Progress By The

Nose,  Although The Danger Was Hidden From His View,  And Your Trouble Is

Unrewarded.

 

In All Wild Shooting,  In Every Country And Climate,  The `Wind' Is The

First Consideration. If You Hunt Down Wind You Will Never Get A Deer.

You Will Have Occasional Glimpses Of Your Game,  Who Will Be Gazing

Intently At You At Great Distances Long Before You Can See Them,  But You

Will Never Get A Decent Shot. The Great Excitement And Pleasure Of All

Sport Consists In A Thorough Knowledge Of The Pursuit. When The Dew Is

Heavy Upon The Ground At Break Of Day,  You Are Strolling Noiselessly

Along With The Rifle,  Scanning The Wide Plains And Searching The Banks

Of The Pools And Streams For Foot-Marks Of The Spotted Deer. Upon

Discovering The Tracks Their Date Is Immediately Known,  The Vicinity Of

The Game Is Surmised,  The Tracks Are Followed Up,  And The Herd Is At

Length Discovered. The Wind Is Observed; Dry Leaves Crumbled Into Powder

And Let Fall From The Hand Detect The Direction If The Slightest Air Is

Stirring,  And The Approach Is Made Accordingly. Every Stone,  Every Bush

Or Tree Or Tuft Of Grass,  Is Noted As A Cover For An Advance,  And The

Body Being Kept In A Direct Line With Each Of These Objects,  You

Approach Upon Hands And Knees From Each Successive Place Of Shelter Till

A Proper Distance Is Gained. The Stalking Is The Most Exciting Sport In

The World. I Have Frequently Heard My Own Heart Beat While Creeping Up

To A Deer. He Is An Animal Of Wonderful Acuteness,  And Possessing The

Keenest Scent; He Is Always On The Alert,  Watching For Danger From His

Stealthy Foe The Leopard,  Who Is A Perfect Deer-Stalker.

 

To Kill Spotted Deer Well,  If They Are Tolerably Wild,  A Person Must Be

A Really Good Rifle Shot,  Otherwise Wise He Will Wound Many,  But Seldom

Bag One. They Are Wonderfully Fast,  And Their Bounding Pace Makes Them

Extremely Difficult To Hit While Running. Even When Standing They Must

Be Struck Either Through The Head,  Neck,  Or Shoulder,  Or They Will

Rarely Be Killed On The Spot; In Any Other Part,  If Wounded,  They Will

Escape As Though Untouched,  And Die A Miserable Death In Solitude.

 

In Narrating Long Shots That I Have Made,  I Recount Them As Bright

Moments In The Hours Of Sport; They Are The Exceptions And Not The Rule.

I Consider A Man A First-Rate Shot Who Can Always Bag His Deer Standing

At Eighty Yards,  Or Running At Fifty. Hitting And Bagging Are Widely

Different. If A Man Can Always Bag At The Distance That I Have Named He

Will Constantly Hit,  And Frequently Bag,  At Extraordinary Ranges,  As

There Is No Doubt Of His Shooting,  And,  When He Misses,  The Ball Has

Whizzed Somewhere Very Close To The Object; The Chances Are,  Therefore,

In Favour Of The Rifle.

 

The Deer Differ In Character In Various Parts Of Ceylon. In Some Places

Where They Are Rarely Disturbed They Can Be Approached To Within Thirty

Or Forty Paces,  In Which Case A Very Moderate Shot Can Easily Kill Them;

But It Is Better Sport When They Are Moderately Wild. The Greatest

Number Of Deer That I Ever Saw Was In The South-Eastern Part Of Ceylon,

In The Neighbourhood Of Pontane And Yalle. The Whole Of This Country Is

Almost Uninhabited,  And Accordingly Undisturbed. Yalle Is The Nearest

Town Of Importance,  From Which A Good Road,  Lined On Either Side With

Cocoa-Nut And Bread-Fruit Trees,  Extends As Far As Tangalle,  Fifty

Part 3 Chapter 7 Pg 55

Miles. A Few Miles Beyond This Village The Wild Country Begins,  And

Hambantotte Is The Next Station,  Nearly Ninety Miles From Yalle. The

Country Around Hambantotte Is Absolutely Frightful-Wide Extending Plains

Of White Sand And Low Scrubby Bushes Scattered Here And There; Salt

Lakes Of Great Extent,  And Miserable Plains Of Scanty Herbage,

Surrounded By Dense Thorny Jungles. Notwithstanding This,  At Some

Seasons The Whole District Is Alive With Game. January And February Are

The Best Months For Elephants And Buffaloes,  And August And September

Are The Best Seasons For Deer,  At Which Time The Whole Country Is Burnt

Up With Drought,  And The Game Is Forced To The Vicinity Of Yalle River

And The Neighbouring Pools. In The Wet Season This District Is Nearly

Flooded,  And Forms A Succession Of Deep Marshes,  The Malaria From Which

Is Extremely Unhealthy. At This Time The Grass Is High,  And The

Elephants Are Very Numerous.

 

When I Was In This Part Of The Country The Drought Was Excessive; The

Jungle Was Parched,  And The Leaves Dropped From The Bushes Under The

Influence Of A Burning Sun. Not A Cloud Ever Appeared Upon The Sky,  But

A Dazzling Haze Of Intense Heat Spread Over The Scorched Plains. The

Smaller Streams Were Completely Dried Up,  And The Large Rivers Were

Reduced To Rivulets In The Midst Of A Bed Of Sand.

 

The Whole Of This Country Is A Succession Of Flat Sandy Plains And Low

Jungles Contiguous To The Sea-Coast. The Intense Heat And The Glare Of

The Sun Rendered The Journey Most Fatiguing. I At Length Descried A Long

Line Of Noble Forest In The Distance,  And This I Conjectured To Be Near

The River,  Which Turned Out To Be The Case; We Were Soon Relieved From

The Burning Sun By The Shade Of As Splendid A Forest As I Have Ever

Seen. A Few Hundred Yards From The Spot At Which We Had Entered,  Yalle

River Rolled Along In A Clear Stream. In The Wet Season This Is A Rapid

Torrent Of About 150 Yards In Width,  But At This Time The Bed Of The

River Was Dry,  With The Exception Of A Stream Of About Thirty Paces

Broad,  Which Ran Directly Beneath The Bank We Were Descending.

 

An Unexpected Scene Now Presented Itself. The Wide Bed Of The River Was

Shaded On Either Side By Groves Of Immense Trees,  Whose Branches

Stretched Far Over The Channel; And Not Only Beneath Their Shade,  But In

Every Direction,  Tents Formed Of Talipot Leaves Were Pitched,  And A

Thousand Men,  Women,  And Children Lay Grouped Together; Some Were

Bathing In The River,  Some Were Sitting Round Their Fires Cooking A

Scanty Meal,  Others Lay Asleep Upon The Sand,  But All Appeared To Be

Congregated Together For One Purpose; And So Various Were The Castes And

Costumes That Every Nation Of The East Seemed To Have Sent A

Representative. This Was The Season For The Annual Offerings To The

Kattregam God,  To Whose Temple These Pilgrims Were Flocking,  And They

Had Made The Dry Bed Of Valle River Their Temporary Halting-Place. A Few

Days After,  No Less Than 18,000 Pilgrims Congregated At Kattregam.

 

I Was At This Time Shooting With My Friend,  Mr. H. Walters,  Then Of The

15th Regiment. We Waded Up The Bed Of The River For About A Mile,  And

Then Pitched The Tent Under Some Fine Trees In The Open Forest. Several

Wild Buffaloes Were Drinking In The River Within A Short Distance Of Us;

But Thinking This A Likely Spot For Elephants,  We Determined Not To

Disturb The Neighbourhood By Firing A Shot Until We Had First Explored

The Country. After A Walk Of A Couple Of Hours Through Fine Open Forest

And Small Bushy Plains,  We Came To The Conclusion That There Were Very

Few Elephants In The Country,  And We Devoted Ourselves To Other Game.

 

After A Day Or Two Spent In Killing Deer,  A Few Wild Buffaloes,  And Only

One Elephant,  I Felt Convinced That We Should Never Find The Latter,  In

The Dry State Of The Country,  Unless By Watching At Some Tank At Night.

We Therefore Moved Our Encampment Inland About Twenty-Five Miles From

Yalle. Here There Is A Large Tank,  Which I Concluded Would Be The Resort

Of Elephants.

 

A Long Day's Journey Through A Burning Sun Brought Us To Sitrawelle.

This Is A Small Village,  About Six Miles Inward From The Sea-Coast

Village Of Kesinde. Here The Natives Brought Us Plantains And Buffalo

Milk,  While We Took Shelter From The Sun Under A Splendid Tamarind Tree.

Opposite To This Was A 'Bo'-Tree; *(Very Similar To The Banian-Tree)

This Grew To An Extraordinary Size; The Wide Spreading Branches Covered

About Half An Acre Of Ground,  And The Trunk Measured Upwards Of Forty

Feet In Circumference. The Tamarind-Tree Was Nearly The Same Size; And I

Never Saw Together Two Such Magnificent Specimens Of Vegetation. A Few

Paces From This Spot,  A Lake Of About Four Miles' Circuit Lay In The

Centre Of A Plain; This Was Surrounded By Open Forests And Jungles,  All

Of Which Looked Like Good Covers For Game. Skirting The Opposite Banks

Of The Lake,  We Pitched The Tent Under Some Shady Trees Upon A Fine

Level Sward. By This Time It Was Nearly Dusk,  And I Had Barely Time To

Stroll Out And Kill A Peacock For Dinner Before Night Set In.

 

The Next Morning,  Having Been Joined By My Friend,  Mr. P. Braybrook,

Then Government Agent Of This District,  Our Party Was Increased To

Three,  And Seeing No Traces Of Elephants In This Neighbourhood,  We

Determined To Proceed To A Place Called Wihare-Welle,  About Six Miles

Farther Inland.

 

Our Route Now Lay Along A Broad Causeway Of Solid Masonry. On Either

Side Of This Road,  Stone Pillars Of About Twelve Feet In Height Stood In

Broken,  Rows,  And Lay Scattered In Every Direction Through The Jungle.

Ruined Dagobas And Temples Jutted Their Rugged Summits Above The

Tree-Tops,  And Many Lines Of Stone Columns Stood In Parallel Rows,  The

Ancient Supports Of Buildings Of A Similar Character To Those Of

Pollanarua And Anarajahpoora. We Were Among The Ruins Of Ancient

Mahagam. One Of The Ruined Buildings Had Apparently Rested Upon

Seventy-Two Pillars. These Were Still Erect,  Standing In Six Lines Of

Twelve Columns; Every Stone Appeared To Be About Fourteen Feet High By

Two Feet Square And Twenty-Five Feet Apart. This Building Must Therefore

Have Formed An Oblong Of 300 Feet By 150. Many Of The Granite Blocks

Were Covered With Rough Carving; Large Flights Of Steps,  Now Irregular

From The Inequality Of The Ground,  Were Scattered Here And There; And

The General Appearance Of The Ruins Was Similar To That Of Pollanarua,

But Of Smaller Extent. The Stone Causeway Which Passed Through The Ruins

Was About Two Miles In Length,  Being For The Most Part Overgrown With

Low Jungle And Prickly Cactus. I Traversed The Jungle For Some Distance

Until Arrested By The Impervious Nature Of The Bushes; But Wherever I

Went,  The Ground Was Stewed With Squared Stones And Fallen Brickwork