I had overslept myself one morning when I ought to have been particularly early, as we intended to hunt at the Matturatta Plains, a distance of six miles.

The scent was bad, and the sun was excessively hot; the dogs were tired and languid.

It was two o'clock P.M., and we had not found, and we were returning through the forest homewards, having made up our minds for a blank day.
Suddenly I thought I heard a deep voice at a great distance; it might have been fancy, but I listened again.

I counted the dogs, and old Smut was missing.

There was no mistaking his voice when at bay, and I now heard him distinctly in the distance.