The greyhounds overtook him just as he gained the steep bank of the river, and they all rolled over in a confused crowd into the deep water.
The next moment the buck was seen swimming proudly down the river, with the pack following him down the stream in full cry.

Presently he gained his footing, and, disdaining farther flight, he turned bravely upon the hounds.
He was a splendid fellow; his nostrils were distended, his mane was bristled up, and his eyes flashed, as, rearing to his full height, he plunged forward and struck the leading dogs under the water.

Not a dog could touch him; one by one they were beaten down and half-drowned beneath the water.

Old Smut was to the front as usual: down the old dog was beaten, but he reappeared behind the elk's shoulder, and the next moment he was hanging on his ear.

The poor old dog had lost so many of his teeth in these encounters that he could not keep his hold, and the buck gave a tremendous spring forward, shaking off the old dog and charging through the pack, sinking nearly half of them for a few moments beneath the water.