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I had nine couple of hounds out, among which were some splendid seizers, "Bertram," "Killbuck," "Hecate," "Bran," "Lucifer," and "Lena," the first three being progeny of the departed hero, old "Smut," who had been killed by a boar a short time before. They were then just twelve months old, and "Bertram" stood twenty-eight and a half inches high at the shoulder. To him his sire's valor had descended untarnished, and for a dog of his young age he was the most courageous that I have ever seen. In appearance he was a tall Manilla bloodhound, with the strength of a young lion; very affectionate in disposition, and a general favorite, having won golden opinions in every contest. Whenever a big buck was at bay, and punishing the leading hounds, he was ever the first to get his hold; no matter how great the danger, he never waited but recklessly dashed in. "There goes Bertram! Look at Bertram! Well done, Bertram!" were the constant exclamations of a crowd of excited spectators when a powerful buck was brought to bay. He was a wonderful dog, but I prophesied an early grave for him, as no dog in the world could long escape death who rushed so recklessly upon his dangerous game.* His sister "Hecate," was more careful, and she is alive at this moment, and a capital seizer of great strength combined with speed, having derived the latter from her dam, "Lena," an Australian greyhound, than whom a better or truer bitch never lived. "Old Bran," and his beautiful son "Lucifer," were fine specimens of grayhound and deerhound, and as good as gold. *Speared through the body by the horns of a buck elk and killed shortly after this was written.

There was not a single elk track the whole of the way up the mountain, and upon arriving at the top, I gave up all hope of finding for that day, and I enjoyed the beautiful view over the vast valley of forest which lay below, spangled with green plains, and bounded by the towering summit of Adam's Peak, at about twenty-five miles' distance. The coffee estates of Dimboola lay far beneath upon the right, and the high mountains of Kirigallapotta and Totapella bounded the view upon the left.

There is a good path along the narrow ridge on the summit of the Elk Plain hills, which has been made by elephants. This runs along the very top of the knife-like ridge, commanding a view of the whole country to the right and left. The range is terminated abruptly by a high peak, which descends in a sheer precipice at the extremity.

I strolled along the elephant-path, intending to gain the extreme end of the range for the sake of the view, when I suddenly came upon the track of a "boar," in the middle of the path. It was perfectly fresh, as were also the ploughings in the ground close by, and the water of a small pool was still curling with clouds of mud, showing most plainly that he had been disturbed from his wallowing by my noise in ascending the mountain-side.

There was no avoiding the find; and away went "Bluebeard," "Ploughboy," "Gaylass" and all the leading hounds, followed by the whole pack, in full chorus, straight along the path at top speed. Presently they turned sharp to the left into the thick jungle, dashing down the hillside as though off to the Elk Plains below. At this pace I knew the hunt would not last long, and from my elevated stand I waited impatiently for the first sounds of the bay. Round they turned again, up the steep hillside, and the music slackened a little, as the bounds had enough to do in bursting through the tangled bamboo up the hill.

Presently, I heard the rush of the boar in the jungle, coming straight up the hill toward the spot where I was standing; and, fearing that he might top the ridge and make down the other side toward Dimboola, I gave him a halloo to head him back. Hark, for-r-rard to him! yo-o-ick! to him!

Such a yell, right in his road, astonished him, and, as I expected, he headed sharp back. Up came the pack, going like race-horses, and wheeling off where the game had turned, a few seconds running along the side of the mountain, and then such a burst of music! such a bay! The boar had turned sharp round, and had met the hounds on a level platform on the top of a ridge.

"Lucifer" never leaves my side until we are close up to the bay; and plunging and tearing through the bamboo grass and tangled nillho for a few hundred yards, I at length approached the spot, and I heard Lord Bacon grunting and roaring loud above the din of the hounds.

Bertram has him for a guinea! Hold him, good lad! and away dashed "Lucifer" from my side at the halloo.

In another moment I was close up, and with my knife ready I broke through the dense jungle and was immediately in the open space cleared by the struggles of the boar and pack. Unluckily, I had appeared full in the boar's front, and though five or six of the large seizers had got their holds, he made a sudden charge at me that shook them all off, except "Bertram" and "Lena."

It was the work of an instant, as I jumped quickly on one side, and instinctively made a downward cut at him in passing. He fell all of a heap, to the complete astonishment of myself and the furious pack.

He was dead! killed by one blow with the hunting knife. I had struck him across the back just behind the shoulders, and the wound was so immense that he had the appearance of being nearly half divided. Not only was the spine severed, but the blade had cut deep into his vitals and produced instant death.

One of the dogs was hanging on his hind quarters when he charged, and as the boar was rushing forward, the muscles of the back were accordingly stretched tight, and thus the effect of the cut was increased to this extraordinary degree. He was a middling-sized boar, as near as I could guess, about two and a half hundredweight.

Fortunately, none of the pack were seriously hurt, although his tusks were as sharp as a knife. This was owing to the short duration of the fight, and also to the presence of so many seizers, who backed each other up without delay.

There is no saying to what size a wild boar grows. I have never killed them with the hounds above four hundredweight; but I have seen solitary boars in the low country, that must have weighed nearly double.

I believe the flesh is very good; by the natives it is highly prized; but I have so strong a prejudice against it from the sights I have seen of their feasting upon putrid elephants that I never touch it.

The numbers of wild hogs in the low country is surprising, and these are most useful in cleaning up the carcases of dead animals and destroying vermin. I seldom or never fire at hog in those districts, as their number is so great that there is no sport in shooting them. They travel about in herds of one and two hundred, and even more. These are composed of sows and young boars, as the latter leave the herd when arrived at maturity.

From Samuel White Baker "Eight Years' Wanderings in Ceylon"

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John aka NitroX

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