"'Every body knows that a true sporting dog will follow any one who has a
gun on his shoulder. "Soliman, Soliman!" cried I; and Soliman came. Sir,
the instinct of the dog was remarkable: we had hardly got out of the
village when he made a point--such a point, sir!--his tail out as straight
as a ramrod. There was the thrush, not ten paces from me. I fired both
barrels--Poum! Poum! Powder not worth a rush. I had used all my own the
day before, and this was some I had got from my host. The thrush flew away
unhurt. But Soliman had kept his eye on him, and went straight to the
place where the bird was. Again he made a most beautiful point; but
although I looked with all my eyes, I could not see the thrush. I was
stooping down in this manner, looking for the creature, when suddenly it
flew away, and so fast, that before I got my gun to my shoulder, it was
out of reach. Soliman opened his eyes and stared at me; as much as to say,
"What is the meaning of all this?" The expression of the dog's face made
me feel quit humiliated. I could not help speaking to him. "Never mind,"
said I, nodding my head, "you will see next time." You would have thought
the animal understood me. He again began to hunt about. In less than ten
minutes he stopped as if he were cut out of marble. I was determined not
to lose this chance; and I went right before the dog's nose. The bird rose
literally under my feet; but I was so agitated that I fired my first
barrel too soon, and my second too late. The first discharge passed by him
like a single ball; the second was too scattered, and he passed between it.
It was then that a thing happened to me--one of those things which I
should not repeat, but for my attachment to the truth. The dog looked at
me for a moment with a sort of smile upon his countenance: then, coming
close up to me while I was reloading my gun, he lifted his left hind leg,
made water against my gaiter, and then turning round, trotted away in the
direction of his master's house. You may easily suppose, that if it had
been a man who had thus insulted me, I would have had his life, or he
should have had mine. But what could I say, sir, to a dumb beast which God
had not gifted with reason?'"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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