The remainder of the pack had taken after a doe that had crossed the scent, and they were now running in a different direction.

I now imagined that the elk had gone down the ravine to the lower plains by some run that might exist along the edge of the cliff, and accordingly I started off along a deer-path through the jungle, to arrive at the lower plains by the shortest road that I could make.
Hardly had I run a hundred yards, when I heard the ringing of the bay and the deep voice of Smut, mingled with the roar of the waterfall, to which I had been running parallel.

Instantly changing my course, I was in a few moments on the bank of the river just above the fall.

There stood the buck at bay in a large pool about three feet deep, where the dogs could only advance by swimming.

Upon my jumping into the pool, he broke his bay, and, dashing through the dogs, he appeared to leap over the verge of the cataract, but in reality he took to a deer-path which skirted the steep side of the wooded precipice.