BIG GAME OF CEYLON. 227

lead on her keel. Previous to her com-ing to this country she had been out-built and outclassed by Verve, a stillmore pronounced vessel of the sametype. In the Fall of 1881 she sailedeight races. Six she won on her merits,one was a sail-over, her competitor hav-ing failed to appear, one she lost to theHerreshoff sloop Shadow. The behaviorof Madge in a rough sea was a revela-tion to the stanch adherents of the

skimming-dish type, of whom not afew were then extant.

There is little doubt that if the Eng-lish had sent over a large cutter of thetype of the Madge in 1882 she wouldhave stood an excellent chance of takingthe America’s Cup back to England.

But the British allowed the goldenopportunity to pass by. They mighthave caught us napping in 1882, but wewere ready for them in 1885.

B I G G A M E O F C E Y L O N .

E had beenstationedfor some

time in the islando f p a l m s a n dpearls before H.and I were ableto have a r e a lgood go-in at thebig game; but atlast we were ableto get away for amonth together,and a friend up-country prom-ised to join us.We shipped our-selves, tents andstores, on boardthe governmentsteamer Seren-dib, at Colombo;and th i r t y - s i xhours later land-ed on the beachat Hambantota,

the last outpost of civilization on thesoutheast coast of Ceylon.

A solitary civilian who consumes hissoul in patience here, received us mosthospitably. We were soon joined by somevery important members of our party—the trackers. I have met native huntersof many lands, but all must give way tothe trackers of Ceylon. The way theywould follow at a run a track entirelyinvisible to us, say over sheet rock, wasincredible. But they were never atfault, and hastened on until the tracks

became plain even to our eyes, and atlast they would point to the sign thatmakes the oldest sportsman’s heart beatquick—the spoor of the gigantic gameinto which the water was still oozing.I am ashamed to say that my memoryhas failed to hold the name of the dirty,wizened little creature, a toss-up assign-ed to be my constant companion forweeks in the jungle. I think it wasAppu Sinho; let us call him so. Well,dirty and contemptible-looking as hewas, he had a heart a life-guardsman

might envy. He would stand close be-side me in a narrow game-path up whichan elephant was coming and coolly holdmy second gun ready. He had none of,the excitement that I had in the shoot-ing, and when the two reports of theheavy rifle had rung out, and somethingcrashing past in the smoke like an ex-press train proved that the elephant hadnot fallen, his only movement would beto press the other weapon into my handand pull my arm to follow him in thedirection the game had gone.

We did not waste much of ourprecious leave in the C. C. S. bungalowat Hambantota, and as soon as the localofficer had got’ together the carts andcoolies we wanted, we started off.

We each had a double-barreledtwelve-bore rifle carrying a conicalsteel-tipped bullet. Then we had strongtwelve-gauge guns capable of burningfour and a half drachms of Powder, andcarrying a McLeod bullet. In additionwe each had an express double rifle,H.’s .450 and mine .500. This battery

228 OUTING FOR DECEMBER.

answered fairly well, but were the tripto be made again I would substitute adouble eight-bore for the twelve. Atwelve-bore rifle has this disadvantage,it is neither one thing nor the other.The ideal weapon for thick-skinned,large game is the heaviest rifle thesportsman can wield. Some of theBaker family used a four-bore in olddays, but it has this disadvantage thatit is obviously impossible for any manto wield a double four-bore. The oneI saw was a single muzzle-loader and car-ried a belted ball weighing nearly fourand a quarter ounces, propelled by anounce of powder. But any fairly athleticman can use a double eight-bore, burn-ing six to eight drachms. This is theweapon for elephant, buffalo, rhinoce-ros, hippopotamus and similar animals.

The twelve-bore is all very well forthin-skinned game such as lions andtigers, elk, eland and nylghau. But it isbeaten out of the field by the .577 ex-press taking a hollow bullet, or a solidone of pure lead. Sir Samuel Baker, thegreatest of living shikaris, was the firstto insist on the value of this projectile.In a recent letter to the writer he says:“I am more than ever convinced of itsvalue. During my last Indian trip Ifired at six tigers with it. All fell stonedead but one, and he did little morethan roll down a nullah.”

With a double eight-bore .577 expressand twelve-gauge “paradox” gun, thesportsman’s battery is complete; butas this express is rather large for thesmaller deer and antelopes, a .450 can beadded, if money is no object.

The first night in camp we held coun-cil of war with the trackers, through theinterpretership of my body servant,Simon Peter. They reported a goodhead of game in the neighborhood ofthe Kambu Kenaar River, so we de-cided to pitch a standing camp there.We chose one in a bend of the littlestream, which, I think, forms the bound-ary between the southern and easternprovinces of Ceylon. I had my owntent and outfit. The servants had an-other tent, and the coolies, etc., ran upsome huts. With our carts, bullocks,and so on, we had quite a large camp.Ceylon is essentially a young man’ssporting ground. The difficulties oftransport are so great that shootinggeneral ly means roughing it. How-ever, this time we were comfortable

enough. The camp was situated in apicturesque spot, and, what was moreto the point, the river swarmed withfish, which exercised our skill andformed a welcome addit ion to themenu. But we were after nobler game,and we got it in plenty.

The elephant (E. sumatriensis) wasthe chief object of our sporting trip. Inappearance the Ceylonese variety ismore allied to the Indian than the Afri-can species, but it is smaller. It is alsomore “leggy,” has a shorter tail and aless intel lectual- looking head. Thegreat difference is that the Ceylon ele-phant has, as a rule, no tusks.

The ordinary herd elephant is not adangerous animal. His one idea whenhe sees or smells man is headlong flight.It is only his surroundings that makehim dangerous. In such a path as Ihave described his very terror consti-tutes a danger. A cow with a calf issometimes, and a rogue is always, nasty.Every schoolboy knows a rogue ele-phant is a bull who has been oustedfrom the herd by a younger bull, andwho is transformed into an elephantineBombastes Furioso, his motto being—“And with this awful, wicked worlda war I’ll wage,” his wrath principallybeing directed against man. The rogueis indeed a dangerous brute. He maygenerally be known by his being alone.But if he has obviously winded you andyet continues to move slowly on, lead-ing you into dense forest, then lookout. The jungle gets denser and thelight worse, even baffling the keen eyeof your tracker. You halt a moment,peering into the dim silence. All atonce the rogue is upon you screamingwith wrath, his trunk tightly curled upout of harm’s way, and his tail erect asa poker. Now for a heavy rifle and astraight eye behind it.

The buffalo I consider in many waysthe most dangerous of Ceylon animals.Found general ly in dense, swampyjungle, the bull is frequently the first tocommence the action. Nor is a cowwith a calf a pleasant neighbor.

The little bear is still more pug-nacious. The buffalo bull often, theCeylon bear invariably, attacks man di-rectly it perceives him. They are, how-ever, far more common in the north ofthe island than in the part I write of.These two animals are confined to thelow country.

Engraved by M. L. Brown. “within twenty feet of the herd.” (p. 230.)

230 OUTING FOR DECEMBER.

The panther and leopard, indifferentlystyled In Ceylon the “cheetah,” are com-mon throughout the island, and theirspecies have formed the subject oflengthy scienti f ic disputes . I placethem as belonging to two distinct species.My reason is simply this.I have in thehill country shot undoubted leopards.In the plains I have seen a black speci-men. I have never heard of a blackleopard, whereas black panthers are notvery uncommon.

The sambur (known in Ceylon as the“elk”), is found throughout the island,but principally in the hill districts, whereit is much hunted with foxhounds, andwhen at bay dispatched with a knife. Itattains a great size, but the horns aremiserably poor, compared with the nativeIndian specimens.

The axis, or spotted deer, abounds inthe low country. The muntjac, knownin Ceylon as “red deer,” and in India bythe more appropriate name of “junglesheep,” is found principally in the hillcountry.

Wild pigs abound, and the old boarsattain a great size, but whereas in In-dia the “dooker” is as carefully pre-served as the English fox, in Ceylon thepig is not looked upon as a game animal.The boar is feared and hated by theplanters who keep hounds, as much asthe panther. An old boar will soonplace three or four foxhounds hors decombat, and is not easily dispatched,The panthers soon snap up any houndsthat are lost in the jungle. The lateBeauchamp Downall, facile princeps ofCeylon sportsmen with horse and hound,once killed a panther with a hunting-knife after his hounds had brought it tobay. Last, but not least, among the en-emies of the hound is the porcupine,whose headlong charge I have known todrive a quill to the heart of a largehound. I do not mention snakes, be-cause, although they abound, I neverknew a hound bitten by one.

So much for the game, now to ourground. Northwest of Kambukenaarlies the district known to sportsmen as“the Park.” Hundreds of acres of roll-ing grass plains, broken up by clumpsof jungle and trees, make the Park theparadise of the stalker.

South of the river extends a less love-ly district. It consists of miles of thickthorn jungle, whose densely intertwinedgrowths make it impossible for man to

penetrate it on foot, except by followingthe countless game-paths by which it isintersected. It i s this c i rcumstancewhich makes it so unpleasant to meetan elephant in one of these paths, for ifyou cannot stop or turn him, he mustpass within a foot of you. You mightas well be between high walls.

The evening after our arrival in campa cheerful “coo-ey” betokened the arri-val of M., and he rode into camp fol-lowed by his groom. His journey hadbeen uneventful , and we were nowready to commence the campaign.

Our first attempt at elephant-shootingwas in “the Park.” Appu Sinho madean excellent stalk, and H., who had thetoss, had the satisfaction of shooting ourfirst elephant—a bull with short tushes.Next day it was my turn in the thornjungle. Appu Sinho took me up a gamepath to within twenty feet of the herd—one offered a fair shot arid down hewent. With screams of terror the herdfled. My elephant struggled up againonly to perish by the left barrel. H.killed our third as it dashed by him in agame-path, but not till he and M. hademptied their rifles into it. This was agood beginning, but the firing had dis-turbed the game and we now had to gofarther afield for it. We found it againin the thorn-jungle—a rogue. H. firedfirst, and the brute promptly charged,but was turned with the second barrel.Knowing he would not go far we ad-vanced against him by parallel game-paths. He charged M., who failed tostop him. M. tried to retreat, caughthis foot and fell on his back. The brutestopped in the smoke, and commencedbeating for him with its trunk. M., Iafterward learned, was trying silentlyto get in fresh cartridges—the elephantbeing between him and his tracker.Fortunately, I caught a sight of thebrute across the thorns and gave himanother ball. He at once charged at thesmoke, but the jungle or his wounds im-peded him, and gave me time to run af ew ya rds to w indward . When heemerged I brought him to his knees, andM., who had followed in the track,him a coup de grace behind the ear.

gave

Next morning, soon after we leftcamp, we saw three buffa loes . Themorning had been wet, but I suggestedwe should uncase the r i f les . As wereached the place the bull came out ofthe water and charged. It was so close

B I G G A M E O F C E Y L O N . 231

to M. that it seemed to me when he firedhe was leaning over it. I believe, as afact, the head touched his foot as it fell.It never moved again, the spine beingbroken. This was a lucky shot.

We found elephants but they got ourwind, and we were returning homewhen we unexpectedly came on a smallherd. They, too, got our wind and fledin various directions. One crossed us atright angles and M. killed it dead. Thiswas a splendid shot, and a curious sight,as the great beast was going so fast thatwhen shot it fairly turned head overheels like a rabbit!

On some days we varied our proceed-ings by going out separately in variousdirections. One adventure is vividly inmy recollection. The sun was just ris-ing on the horizon as I halted on theedge of a clump of jungle overlooking aconsiderable expanse of open. Thedamp grass caused our lengthened shad-ows to present the peculiar phenomenonof being surrounded with light. Thisappearance, is, in my experience, con-fined to Ceylon. The silence was pro-found, only broken by the rustling ofthose pests of the Ceylon jungles, theland-leeches. They are generally provid-ed against by wearing leech-gaiters, linencoverings from knee to ankle, for theywill get through any sock. I always woreboots, which formed an effective protec-tion when strapped at the top. In highjungles, however, the leeches will pen-etrate by the neck or sleeves. Theirbite is apt to fester, especially when theyare pulled off; the application of to-bacco or salt is the safest, for it causesthem at once to let go.

When the mist rose the first object itrevealed was a herd of spotted deer. Iput my hand out for the express, whenSinho grasped my arm and pointedin another direct ion, where f ive ors i x s ambur were now to be s een .Sinho had to carry out the delicatemaneuver of moving them quiet ly .He crawled out into the grass. At lastthe herd got his wind, and up went alltheir heads. He stood up and theybounded gracefully off to the left. Iwas now able to walk across to anotherclump without driving the deer beforeme. Thence we moved cautiously ontill we struck the tracks. The herdwere moving on fast, and it was anhour before we saw them again. Theywere about seventy yards away, and

moving to the left. The tracker drewmy attention however to the right, withthe word “hora.” Surely enough therewas a large very black-looking solitaryelephant, going to the r ight. Theground was quite open, so we could onlywait. At last he disappeared in thecovert again and after a minute or twowe were running swiftly after him. Hehad now entered a large jungle, andprobably had the intention of lying upfor the day. We proceeded cautiously,but I think he heard us, for whenI caught sight of him his head wasturned back towards us. I at once letdrive, though he was a little far (aboutthirty yards), and round he came andcharged home. The left barrel turnedhim and off he went. Catching up thesmooth bore, I followed at the topof my speed, and by vigorous spurtingovertook him sufficiently to give himboth barrels behind the ear—a deadlyspot—one of which ended the struggle.He was nine feet high, reckoning in theusual way by his foot. Twice the cir-cumference of an elephant’s foot is equalto his height at the shoulder. So thata nine-foot elephant’s forefoot would benearly eighteen inches in diameter.This was the largest Ceylon elephant Iever shot, though the size may seemmoderate to the reader. But elephantsare smaller as a rule than is imagined.A nine-foot elephant is a very fair speci-men in Ceylon; one standing ten feetwould be noticeable in India, while aneleven-foot elephant is a veritable giant,even in Africa.

The following up of a bolting ele-phant is a process not unattended withdanger, and was the original cause ofthe death of poor Varian, the greatestof Ceylon elephant shots of my day.He was one of the two told off espec-ially to accompany the Prince of Waleswhen out shooting. While he wasclosely following up a retreating ele-phant (I am not sure that he hadn’tactually hold of the tail to help himalong) the brute suddenly kicked outand sent him flying. The blow struckhim on the right side, and caused anabscess on his liver. It was successfullyhealed and he went home to Ireland torecruit. I saw him after his return, andlittle thought it was for the last timeHe then told me he had killed one hun-dred and two elephants! Not longafterward, when out shooting, a buffalo

232 OUTING FOR DECEMBER.

trod on him, The injury revived theabscess and he died of it. It will belong before a better sportsman thanVarian handles a rifle there.

Going home I noticed a small herd ofspotted deer. As we wanted meat Ishot a buck, and to my ineffable disgusta magnificent black panther, which hadprobably also been stalking them, jump-ed up at the shot and bounded grace-fully off. I put up the back-sight andhad a shot at him, but without effect.

The return to camp was sometimesamusing. We used to walk in quietly,and when all were assembled one of thethree would produce a tail (an ele-phant’s tail is the trophy always taken).Perhaps another would be produced, oreven one apiece. H. was always fur-nishing a surprise. Once he producedtwo tails, the result of a right and leftshot—a wonderful performance. An-other time he produced a round lump,which, on inspection, proved to be theroot of an elephant’s tail, a stump aboutfive inches long. It came off a rogue,which also had hardly any ears. Rogueelephants frequently have their tailshalf missing, and part of their ears. Itis said to be done by the victor in thefray. M. one day produced a splendidpanther, and another day an alligator’shead. He had met the alligator on theriver bank, and fired two barrels intoit. As it still wriggled off, he drewhis knife and, jumping into the river,caught its paw and stabbed it severaltimes. A foolhardy exploit, which Idon’t advise my readers to emulate.

One more day may be of interest. Wehad arranged to go out alone, but in themorning Appu Sinho was down withfever. The others kindly offered tomake a joint shoot of it, but I knewthey had their plans fixed, and de-clined, hoping the fever would soon gooff. Well, I waited till nearly midday,and then I had some breakfast andwent off alone. I took the heavy rifle,as it was too late for any chance of deer.stalking. For a time I saw nothing, butat last the binocular showed me somedark objects a long way off. As the windwas favorable, I tramped steadily on,till I had made them out plainly to bea herd of buffaloes. They were lyingin a handy position, to windward of abelt of jungle. I stalked steadily up tothem, and got within about forty yards.Two fair bulls were nearest me. One

dropped to the right barrel, and one tothe left. Imagine my delight, which,however, was rather marred by seeingthe second bull stagger to his knees andmove slowly off in an opposite directionto that taken by the herd. I quicklyfollowed, passing on my way the firstbull, which was lying quite still. WhenI reached the place where the secondbull had fallen, there was a lot of blood,and more on the track. I followed it upinto jungle, moving cautiously. Then Iheard a crash, followed by silence. Go-ing on a little, I found where the bull hadlain down again, and more blood. Thishappened several times, but I nevercaught a sight of the brute. Meanwhilethe sun was sinking low on the horizon.All at once, while following the tracks,I noticed they crossed the prints of abooted foot. At first I thought theymust be those of one of the others, butsoon I came to the conclusion that thebuffalo had moved in a circle, and I wascrossing my own trail. It was at thismoment I made another discovery. Ina muddy place I plainly noticed, partlyover some of my own footmarks, thespoor of a large panther. Following ona little, I became certain that as surelyas I had followed the buffalo, so surelyhad the great cat followed me. Thisdecided me, and, with a look at the com-pass and the setting sun, I abandonedmy bull and was off to camp. It was along way, and dark before I got there,and fancy often made me think I heardsomething behind. At last I saw aflickering light, and was pleased to meeta couple of coolies with a lantern, whohad been sent to look out for me.Whether the panther was really follow-ing me, I can’t say. Probably it wastrailing the smell of the blood.

I sent out next day for the head ofthe first bull I had shot, but AppuSinho, rather to my surprise, came backand said he could not find it. So Istarted off myself and soon found thespot, but the bull was not there. Therewas the place he had fallen, even themark where his horn had struck theearth, but he was gone. At first I thoughthe had been taken away somehow,but the marks went to prove he hadsimply got up and walked off. He hadprobably been hit on the root of thehorn and stunned. So, having shot twobulls, right and left, I got neither.

Snaffle.

Painted for O uting by Hermann Simon.

“as we reached the place the bull came out of the water.” (p. 230.)