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The San Francisco call. (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, October 11, 1896, Image 16

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k California Artist in Holland and Belgium and a XVI Century Aubrey Beardsley
F ANTWERP it has been said that the desire and
love of wealth is the luling passion. An old monk
once wrote that Brussels could boast of noble men,
Antwerp of money, Bruges could show the prettiest
girls. Louvain was justly proud of her learned men,
and the poor town of Ghent could only produce
the halters which marked the humiliations to which
her turbulent citizens were so frequently subjected,
the lordship of Malines was chiefly remark
able for the fools which inhabited it. 1 beliere the reputation for unusual
simplicity dated from the story that the citizens of Malines once at
tempted to extinguish the moon shining through their cathedral tower,
mistaking the radiance for a fire.
Every town in Holland or Belgium is within a few hours of every
other town; therefore the resolve to visit Antwerp or Bruges needs no
more deliberation than a sudden irresistible impulse to visit East Oakland
or Petaluma, only there is this difference. In California the mighty
Portrait-of a Flemish Woman of the XVI Century.
resolve to travel need not be communicated to all the neighbors, nor does
it awaken in their minds any overwhelming anguish of interest. To leave
a town in Holland in order to cross the border into Belgium is a grave
matter; to leave a little village for the same purpose is to become a public
A little ramshackle carriage, with flapping tarpaulin blinds, stops
before the door. It is called the "rideout." The postman, Jan de
Ziouw, knocks on the door and opens it, shouting in Dutch that it is time
to leave. This is the signal for the gathering of the cians, and the de
parture is accomplished only after innumerable handshakes and nods of
the head and repeated good wishes for a safe journey. The children fol
low t:.e rideout as long as possible, clattering over the stones with their
wood.en shoes and giving vent to their excitement in earsplitting yells.
Oh! the tender charms of childhood !
The road to Dordrecht i 3 beautiful. It is autumnal September, but
the landscape has the soft freshness of early spring in California. An
A Phantom Dog and a Majors Son
Translated from the Russian. i
During the war of the Caucasus I was j
serving in one of the regiments sent i
azainst the mountaineers. At that time a |
young officer from the Imperial (iuard j
Nedewitchef was transferred to our regi- I
ment. He was remarkably handsome,
witn the figure of a Hercules, and would I
have become a general favorite were it not
for his shyness and extraordinary misan
thropy. Sulky and unsocial in disposi
tion, his only affection seemed centered
on an enormous black dog with a white i
star upon its forehead, called Caro.
Once our regiment had to move aaainst
a Circassian village that was in revolt.
The Circassians defended their position
with desperate bravery, but through supe
rior numbers we disposed of them easily.
The soldiers, driven to frenzy by the stub
born resistance of the enemy, killed every
one they met. Nedewitchef commanded a j
company ano was in front of every- j
body. Near a mud hut I met him face to i
face, and I was thunderstruck. His j
magnificent face was all distorted by an
expression of brutal cruelty; his eyes
were bloodshot and wandering like those
of a maniac in a fit of fury. He was liter
ally chopping an old man to pieces with
his sword. I was shocked at such a dis
play of useless ferocity and hurried for
ward to stop him. But before I had j
reached him the door of the hut flew'open i
and a woman, with a cry which made my
blood run cold, rushed out of it and flung
herself upon the corpse of the old man.
At this sight Nedewitchef sprang back
ward as if he had been shot himself and
trembled violently. I looked at the woman
and couid hardly suppress a cry of sur
prise. Heavens, what a gorgeous beauty I
was the/el With her iovely face, pale as !
death itself, uplifted toward U3, her mag
nificent blacK eyes full of nameless terror
and mortal hatred were phosphorescent,
flaming like two burning coals as she
fixed them upon us. Nedewitchef stared
at her like one fascinated and it was with
•n effort that coming out of his stupor
he gave the orders to beat the rappel in
order to put a stop to useless bloodshed.
I did not see Nedewitchef a;;ain for sev
eral days, and only learned accidentally
from his orderly that the same young
woman, two days later, had come to his
tent, thrown herself at his feet, and pour-
Ing her whole soul into her tale had con
fessed 8n ardent iove for him. She de
clared that, according to the Circassian
custom, his courage bad made her his
slave and that she wanted to be his wife.
Remembering well her look of hatred 1
did not at first believe, but had to yield at
last to the evidence.
After the submission of the village we
encamped there a considerable length of
time. One afternoon, calling my dog, I
took a gun and went out for a stroll in the
wild vineyards. I had no intention to
hunt, but simply to take a walk and watch
the spienuid sunset from the top of All-
Dag. Having gone two or three miles by
a narrow path which wou,nd up to the
mountain top I entered a small thicket,
drowned with sunlight and burning like a
jewel set with gold, rabies and diamonds.
Under a group of tali trees, lying lazily
on a patch of green moss, I saw Nedewit
chef; the black-eyed beauty was sitting
near him playing with his hair, and asleep
at the foot of his master was the faithful
dog. Unwilling to break their tete-a-tete,
I passed unperceived by them and began
climbing higher up. While crossing a
thick vineyard I suddenly came upon
three Circassians who, perceiving me,
rapidly disappeared, though not quickly
enough to prevent my seeing that they
were armed to the teeth. Supposing them
to be runaways from the conquered village
1 passed on without paying them much
attention. Charmed by the pleasant
evening I wandered about till night and
returned home very late and tired out.
Passing through the camp toward my
tent I at once perceived that something
unusual had happened. Armed horsemen
rapidly brushed by me. The division ad
jutant was galloping furiously in my
Curious to knew what had happened I
went straight to the crowd. I had hardly
approached it when 1 saw it was Nede
witc'ief'stent, and a horrid presentiment,
which soon became a fearful reality, got
hold of me at once. The first object I saw
wasama^sof hacked and bleeding flesh
lying on the iron bedstead. It was
Nedewitchef. He had been literally
chopped to pieces witn yatagans and dag
gers. At the foot or the bed Caro, also
bleeding, was stretched, locking at nis
master's remains with such a human ex
pression of pity, despair and aflsction
mingled that it brought a gush of hot
tears to roy eyes.
Then it was that' I learned the follow
ing: Soon after sunset Caro, furiously
barking, ran into the camp. It was im
mediately noticed that his muzzle was
bleeding. The intelligent dog, getting
hold of the soldiers' coats, seemed to in
vite them to follow him, which was imme
diately understood, and a party was sent
with him up the mountain. Caro ran be
fore the men, showing them the way, till
at last he brought them to a group of trees
where they found Nedewitchef's mangled
body. A pool of blood was found at quite
a distance from the murdered man, for
which no one could acconnt, till pieces of
coarse clothing disclosed the fact that
Caro had had his battle also with one of
the murderers and had coma out best in
the fight; the latter accounting also for
his bleeding muzzle. The black beauty
had disappeared— she was revenged.
Several of the officers tried to keep Caro,
but he would live with none. He had got
very much attached to the soldiers, who
all doted on him. Several months later
the poor animal was killed in bis turn by
a mounted Circassian, who blew bia brains
out and disappeared. The soldiers buried
the dog, and many there were among them
who shed tears, but no one laughed at their
Eighteen years rolled away; war was
declared with Turkey, and I, as an old
Caucasian officer, well acquainted with the
seat of war, was ordered off to Armenia.
The Turks were in a minority, ano, evi
dently feeling afraid, they remained idle.
We also had to be inactive, and quietly
awaiting developments encamped at Kizil-
Tapa, in front of the Aladgin Heights, on
which the Turks had entrenched them
selves. Camp discipline was not very rig
orous at first, but after the unfortunate
battle of Kizil-Tapa, which we loet, the
most trifling breach in regulations was
often punished with death.
After awhile I heard people talking of
the mysterious apparition of a dog named
Caro, who was adored by the old soldiers.
Once when I went to see our colonel on
business I heard an officer mentioning
Caro, wh^en Major T., addressing an artil
leryman, remarked:
"It must be some trick of the soldiers.''
"What does all this mean ?" I asked the
major, extremely interested.
"is it possible that you should not have
heard the foolish story told about a dog
Caro?" he asked me, full of surprise. And
upon receiving my assurance that I had
not, he explained as follows:
"Before our disastrous loss of Kizil-
Tapa the soldiers had been allowed many
unpardonable liberties. Very often the
officers on duty had seen the sentries and
patrols asleep. But notwithstanding all
their endeavors it had been impossible to <
avenue of giant elms, remarkable even for this land of stat?ly trees,
points the way. Napoleon laid it out and it is quite as suggestive of his
taste for magnificence and pomp as the great tomb under the golden dome
of the invalides in Paris. It is a road for a king to drive through in a
royal chariot. The little rideout, however, bumps along behind an
ancient horse with admirable cheerfulness. In the center of the avenue
the thick tree trunks rise like the pillars of a Gothic cathedral and the
overarching branches meet high above the head; the sunlight is subdued
like the light through siained-glass windows, and at either end of the van
ishing aisle a faint blue mist rises like incense.
Between the trees, as within a frame, you see constantly changing
pictures of Dutch peasant life, ia the fresh, keen, early morning air. The
women are already bending over their work in the fields or washing at the
edge of their garden in the little silver streams. The lields roll away to
the distance, an emerald sea, and away in the horizon is the inevitable
veil of mist.
A number of sentimental last impres- I
sions are rudely broken in upon I
I by the appearance of a woman, I
I who empties into her own par- I
I ticular "little silver stream" a I
I choice collection of potato par- I
I ings, flax and salad leaves, an I
I "olla podrida" that brings to I
I the mind of the unwilling ob- I
I server an instantaneous calcula- I
I tion: Huw many shining silver I
I streams — typhoid fever? How I
I much delicate veiling of blue I
I mist, aaded to constant exposure I
I and weariness, may amount to I
I chronic malaria? «
To reach Dordrecht it is neces- I
I ?ary to cross the River Maas. A I
I ferry-boat of the size of a steam I
I launch is provided for foot-pas- I
I seugers and a clean mmlscow I
I lor the transportation of ye- I
I hides. The ferry puffs across, I
I or waggles across, more prop- I
I erly speaking, with the direct- I
I ness of aim and purpose so often I
I to be remarked in the little tin I
I boats and fishes you may have I
I propelled in a basin in early I
I youth. At the end it makes a I
I dash for the landing much as a I
I drunken man collects himself I
I for a finai effort at his own front I
I door. Dordrecht, or Dort, as it I
I is called, looks like a pnantom I
I city it is in the early morning, I
I wrapped in mists that the pale I
I sunlight tries vainly to dispel. I
I The windmills stand motion- I
I less line great spider-webs and I
I the towers of the Town Hall I
I and the Groote Kerk (the £ig I
I Church) look like the masts of I
I ships way out at sea.
It is a curious little town. I
Under the walls the sea- I
going vessels come sliding in and huge rafts I
with timber from O'erman forests come I
floating down to the feet of the windmill?.
The streets run up and down and around the corner and back again,
witn a piquant irregularity, and are crowded with women in quaint caps
and little dogcarts piled high with vegetables and children.
Upon leaving the town the train crosses an immense arm of the sea,
which was formed centuries ago by an inundation, 10 which the Johns
town disaster was nothing. The arduously conquered soil was divided
into a hundred islands. Towns and villages were swept away and the los 3
of life was horrible. It is called the "reed forest." From Dordrecht to
Antwerp is a distance to be traversed in less than two hours, but the
difference in the character of the two countries is hardly less than may be
found between the extreme East and the extreme West of the United
Immediately on the Belgian frontier the trees strike for freedom.
catch any of them; hardly did an officer
on duty appear going the rounds than an
enormous black dog with a white star on
its forehead mysteriously appeared, no
one knew whence, ran toward any care
less sentry and pulled him by his coat and
legs to awaken him. Of course, as soon as
the man was fairly warned he, would begin
pacine up and down his beat with an air
of perfect innocence. The soldiers began
circulating the most stupid stories about
that dog. They affirm that it is no living
dog, but the phantom of Caro. a New
foundland that had belonged to an officsr
of their regiment, who was treacherously
killed by some Circassians many years
ago, during the last Circassian war with
The last words of the major brought
back to ray memory the pictures of the
long-forgotten past, and at the same time j
an uneasy feeling that I could not well de-"j
fine. I could not pronounce a word, ana j
remained silent.
"You heard, I suppose," said the j
j colonel, addressing the major, "that the !
commanderin-chief has just issued an
order to shoot the first sentry foand
asleep on his post."
"Yes, but I confess to a great desire I
to first try my hand at shooting the
phantom dog, or whoever represents it.
1 am determined to expose the trick," ex
claimed the major, who was a skeptic.
"Wen, there is a good opportunity for
you," put in the adjutant. "I am just go
No more avenues, forced to march with the precision of regiments of
soldiers, sometimes allowed to grow only on two sides, the great branches
clipped at tho trunk where they threatened to rebel. Instead of the
eternal straight lines an insolent little pine forest of young trees straggles
away from the train. They stand in ragged groups, their heads together,
like whispering children, or they run after each other in twos and threes
or stand alone, su'king end silent.
The houses in the little villages are painted white, aad are gay
with vegetable gardens. The sky is a candid blue, and a few astonished
clouds that have most apparently lost their way are traveling back as fast
as they may to Holland.
The train flies through the pleasant country, that is like pleasant
countries all the world over, a little like France, even a little like Cal
And suddenly here is Antwerp in the distance, and in another moment
I the station is reached and you are driv-
I ing through the streets. Any town of
I which you have read much, whichnlavs
I at once a romantic and neroio I
I part in the history of the past, I
I which forms a background for I
I tragedies and operas, must be I
I for an instant a disillusionment. I
I Everything modern is more or I
I less out of place; even in the I
I Great square, the Place Yerte, I
I you look in vain for the dark, I
I rich, old Flemish houses, for I
I that background of terrible I
I splendor against winch the I
I Spanisn faces of the tyrants, the I
I horrors of the Inquisition, the I
I struggles for freedom have been I
I so appropriately and pictu- 1
I resquely depicted.
The sunny square is alive I
I with idlers. The carriages that I
I line it have each a driver, who I
I cracks his whip and his joke I
I with equal facility. American I
I girls, wnii pretty faces, and a I
I Eaedeker, most visible, go chat- I
I tering into the postoffice or cross I
I the square to the street called I
I "The Shoe Matket" to invest in I
I expensive little Antwerp toys, I
I miniature milk cans and wooden B
I shoes. The statue of Rubens, B
I in the center of che square, is I
I covered with leaves, but is not I
I wanting in the dignity which B
I made the most remarkable B
I painter of his time an equally B
I distinguished statesman and B
I diplomatist. In one corner of I
I the square rises the big, black B
I weather-stained front of the I
I Cathedral of Notre Dame.
In the museum, which is I
I full of interesting things, I
I we find the sketches ior
I these and other pictures. Rubens is king,
I but hardly less remarkable are the exam-
I pies of the work of other men — Van Dyck,
| in his early period, like Rubens in sober
moments; Franz Hals, in wo n derful portraits, with such overwhelming
force and power tnat the pictures near them seem made of paper and
painted with water. Only one portrait stands the comparis on. It is that
of Simon de Vos, painted by himself. The figure of the painter stands
against a dull green background, in velvet of brownish black, one long,
fine hand holding a roll of paper, the while of the frill around the necK
and wrists of a rich subdued tone, and the face, that under a shower of
black hair, looks straight out of the canvas, wears an expression of such
smiling mockery that is almost like a personal affront. The eyes follow
the observer with intolerable superciliousness, an insolent gayety, at
once patronizing and contemptuous. And the maddening ease with which
it is painted does not lessen the astonishment of the simplicity of the sur.
roundings, even the lettering of the inscription which informs us that be
The Daughter of Herodias/' by Quentin Massys,
the XVI Century Aubrey Beardsley.
insj to make my rounds and examine the
posts. Would you like to come with me?
Perhaps we will aiscover something."
All readily assented. Not wishing to part
from good company, and being besides
devoured with curiosity, I said I would go.
We passed through a lonely gorge and
began mounting a steep incline. We'now
I distinctly saw the chain of sentries on the
! picket line. We kept to the bush in the
| shadow to escape observation, and. in
fact, we approached unobserved. Pres
ently it became plainly evident that a
' sentinel seated upon a knoll was asleep.
We had come within a hundred paces of
I him, when suddenly, from behind a bush,
darted a huge black dog with a white
star on its forehead. Ob, horror! It was
the Caro of Nedewitchef. I positively
recognized it. The dog rushed up 10 the
sleeping sentry and tugged at his leg.
I was following the scene with intense
concentration of attention and a shudder
ing heart when at my very ear there canie
the crack of a pistol shot. I started at the
unexpected explosion. Major T. had tired
attheaog. At the same instant the cul
prit soldier dropped to the ground.
We all sprang toward him. The major
was the first to alight from his horse; but
he had hardly begun to lift the body when
a heartrending shriei burst from his lips
and he fell senseless upon the corpse.
The truth became instantly known — a
father had killed his own son. The boy
had just jained the regiment as a volun
teer and had been sent out on picket duty.
Owing to a terrible mischance he had met
his death by the hand of his own father.
After this tragedy Caro was seen no
more. A. J. J.
Encounters With Forest Monsters
A striking looking man, wearing a heavy
dark beard and with dark eyes, arrived
here a week or two ago on the steamer
China and took up his quarters at the Oc
cidental. He was attired in a dark blue
suit, while on his head was a white soft
hat. These, combined with his neglige
shirt, careless tie and other features of
garb, betokened possible experiences in
the wilds. It was soon revealed that this
was true. Packed away in his rooms were
several puns, seme skins of wild animals,
several hunting suits and other parapher
nalia used in forays in the mountains and
The man was Lieutenant Joseph Polo of
Pans, a noted mm rod and traveler, who
has, like his famous namesake, Marco
Polo, been exploring remote portions of
the world. While abroad he has partici
pated in many hunting expeditions. He
has gone in quest of the biggest game to
be found in the Orient. He visited many
different sections, his trip extending
through different countries for over a year.
He had much good fortune on his hunting
trip, and is congratulating himself on the
enjoyment he has had.
While abroad he has visited India, Bur
mah, Java, Cocbin-China, Cambodia and
Tonquin. In some of these countries he
spent considerable time, but was longer in
Cochin-China and Cambodia and Ton
quin than any other countries. He as
cended the famous Red River in Tonquin
has lived in poverty, but introduces himself to every one with a blessing \
upon them, down to the last day— a blessing which this particular ob
server accepts with some resentment.
A Quintin Massy* leads us to the time-worn conclusion that there is
nothing new under the Bun. He is a sixteenth century Aubrey Beardsley.
The daughter of Herodias is a part of an altar-piece. She is in a dress of
heavy brocade, with a rich pattern; her pale little head, with red hair and
redder flower?, under a transparent veil, is finely and firmly drawn against
a flat, dark background, in which a whole scene takes place, as in a
tapestry. The curious position, the strange expression of the face, that is
almost alive with an animation that is far more wonder than horror, con
vinces us that the sixteenth century draughtsman is still the superior of
his modern imitator, who might with advantage imitate not only lha
quaintness and the archaic simplicity of his ancestor out a little of the
beauty and a great deal of the reserve of these old pictures.
One of the oldest buildings in Antwerp and by far the most interesting
is the Museum Piantin-Moretns, established in the house of Christopher
Plantin, the painter, who set up bis printing office in 1555. After th«
A Quaint Old House in Picturesque Mechlin.
middle of the seventeenth century they printed only mass and prayer
Something of the charm and interest which is attached to Nuremberg,
to Bruges, to Verona and to all old cities is re-enlivened before we leave
Antwerp, in spite of its well-swept modern streets and boulevard with
trees and residences of conventional stateliness. There are old streets and
old buildings; the prison of the riotous, gay and devil-may-care tavern
painter Jan Steen; the funny little old church at the port: the port
itself. If the vessels of every nation do not fill the wide bay formed by
the Scheldt, as in the days when Antwerp rivaled Venice for its wealth
and prosperity, at least the scene is one of great animation.
After Antwerp Mechlin, or Malines, seems dreary and dead. Empty
streets, empty squares, around the churches crowds of ragged children,
who strike out rudely if you refuse them alms. The children are every
where, they swing on iron chains in the great empty marketplace, where
a meager fair, a sale of decrepit furniture and ragged clothes and broken
pottery attracts a few curious spectators. Van Dyck Beown.
and had some interesting experiences
amon? the natives.
In Cochin - China he spent several
months. His time there was devoted to
hunting for the peculiar deer indigenous
to that country. He also visited the for
ests and hunted for the extraordinarily
beautiful leopards that abound there. In
Cambodia he also hunted for this game
and for many other varieties. Cambodia,
be says, is a magnificent game country. It
abounds in big game of nearly all Kinds,
and is, according to Lieutenant Polo,
the paradise of sportsmen. In Tonqum,
where he met many friends from France,
he also hunted for leopards, as well as
tigers. It was with the tigers he had his
most exciting experiences. The lieuten
ant told about these yesterday.
"I suppose it falls to tUe lot of few
hunters," he said, "to have the rare sea
son of enjoyment which I have for over a
year past experienced. In nearly ail the
countries I have visited— at least where
I remained any length of time— l
went on hunting forays. But it was in
Cochin- China, Cambodia and Tonquin
that I enjoyed myself the. mo3t. There
the wild game abounds in profusion.
"Cambodia, which is a very beautiful
country, with flowing rivers and pic
turesque scenery, is a great country for
tigers; they are very big and powerful,
though I cannot say their sKins are al
ways the best. But when it comes to size,
strength and agility they beat any tigers
that I have ever seen.
"In company with several friends of
miue we went after these tigers. We were
:ii-med mainly with fine express rifles.
There were some other guns used that
were supposed not to possess any particu
lar merit. They were all, however, useful
in these experiences; for they were
thrilling, and required not only great
vigilance at times, but a promptness of
action only necessary in a wilderness
where vicious animals abound.
"To get these wild animals in Cambodia
we organized a large party, being made
up of a number of the most experienced
tiger-hunters, and we had with us » re
tinue of natives who beat gongs and rang
bells and made all kinds of queer noises
la order to drive the tigers from their lair.
We invaded the forests, we did not seek
for the tigers in the open, for in Cambodia
they are most numerous in the thick
"When we had selected what we consid
ered a rendezvous of the wild beasts, we
surrounded it with the native gong-beaters
and ball-ringers. We had previously taken
the precaution to erect a high scaffold, or
platform, and on this we, who proposed to
shoot the tigers, took up our position. If
it were at night, we had blazing fires to
light the forests.
"We were very successful in our endeav
ors and before we had got through we suc
ceeded in killing no less than seven tigers.
Besides these we killed a large number of
leopards. When the natives on the out
skirts raised their cries and sounded their
bells and gongs, the animals whatever they
were fled toward us, and then all we bad
to do was to exert our utmost skill in
bringing them down, Borne of the ani
mals, especially the tigers, were very
fierce, and had we thrown ourselves need
lessly before them we would have had
some personal encounters that might have
resulted in death.
"As it was, nothing of this kind hap
pened, but I may say that it is certainly a
very vivid experience that one has, espe
cially if it be at night, when among
the soughing of the branches and per
haps amid the occasional falling of rain
you hear at first the weird sounds of the
bells and gongs, the far-away shouts of
the natives, and then presently see the
dark forms and glistenihe eyes of the for
est monsters bounding toward you. It is
a time of feverish excitement and a time
for being cool as well, for without being
cool it is not to be expected that you cajjjf
make a center shot. When you have sh6t
you are pretty apt to know whether the
wound you have made has been so savage
as to cause fatality. The shrieks of these
animals, combined with their rage, add a
weird and fearful grandeur to the darkness
of the forest.
•"This kind of experience I had over
and over again. It is something to be re
membered, and somehow a man thinks
more of himself from having gone through
these experiences, but what I have told
you is only a part of the experience of the
tiger-hunter and leopard-killer in a coun
try like Cambodia. When daylight ap
pears, if you have been firing by aid of
the sidelights of acampfire, you are en
abled to pursue your game that has been
wounded and fled for some distance away.
This is done of course by following the
trails of blood, and when you follow these
trails, especially if you are proceeding
through a thicket, you must be very alert.
"Your gun must be in a position to be
immediately used, for there is no animal
that is more apt to be revengeful at such a
time than these powerful animals of the
cat kind that probably for hours have
suffered from ugly gunshot wounds. If
they are not seriously weakened they will
fight, and they will fight with an alacrity
and vigor that are simply astonishing to a
man who has not had experiences with
them. It is like a battle with a grizzly to
come in contact with them. The wounded
animals seem to make a more desperate
fight than those who have not been
wounded at all. They are endowed with
phenomenal strength, and their remarka
ble quickness make them frightful com
batants at short ranee.
"The only way to do, at the instant you
catch sight of your wounded animal and.
can see that he has any life remaining in
him, is to pour lorth a volley of lead. If
you don't do so. or if by chance you are so
nervous as to miss your animal, he will fly
to the fore and make it so interesting for
you that you may never again participate
in a tiger hunt.
"LucKily for us we succeeded in killing
all the wounded tigers as well as the
leopards that we came upon. Their skins
we took and preserved, and they will ever
remain so long as they last with us as me
mentos of our experiences in the Cambo
dian woods.
"But 1 have omitted to speak of some
other kinds of pa me in whose quest we
enjoyed ourselves also very much; the
spice of danger, it is true, was gone in
some instances, but skill was required
nevertheless. 1 refer for one thing to the
peculiar little brown d*er indigenous to the
hills of fair Cambodia. All deer you
know differ a little in different countries,
and a man who will pick up a textbook on
zoology will soon ascertain that in North
America there are a great many different
species of deer. The noble buck which
Daniel Boone killed in the Kentucky for
est is different from the deer that is to be
found in the Sierra Nevadas. Lik ewise
again, these are different from the deer in
Southern Mexico and Central America.
The Cambodia deer, with their Daautiful
brown color, sometimes shading to a dap
ple, and with their magnificent antlers,
are a sight to see."
Birds are able to work at a higher -flte
than any other animal— that is, they can
develop more energy in proportion to
weight by working at a highor tempera
ture, and this necessitates a warm coating
of feathers as protection from the cold at

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