which at nightfall they set a goat fast-bound, and hedge the pit about
with timber, so as to prevent the wild beasts seeing over, and without
a portal of admission. What happens then is this: the wild beasts,
hearing the bleating in the night, keep scampering round the barrier,
and finding no passage, leap over it, and are caught.[5]

[5] See "Tales from the Fjeld," Sir George W. Dasent, "Father Bruin in
the Corner."



XII

With regard to methods of procedure in the hunting-field, enough has
been said.[1] But there are many benefits which the enthusiastic
sportsman may expect to derive from this pursuit.[2] I speak of the
health which will thereby accrue to the physical frame, the quickening
of the eye and ear, the defiance of old age, and last, but not least,
the warlike training which it ensures. To begin with, when some day he
has to tramp along rough ways under arms, the heavy infantry soldier
will not faint or flag--he will stand the toil from being long
accustomed to the same experiences in capturing wild beasts. In the
next place, men so trained will be capable of sleeping on hard
couches, and prove brave guardians of the posts assigned them. In the
actual encounter with the enemy, they will know at once how to attack
and to carry out the word of command as it passes along the lines,
because it was just so in the old hunting days that they captured the
wild game. If posted in the van of battle, they will not desert their
ranks, because endurance is engrained in them. In the rout of the
enemy their footsteps will not falter nor fail: straight as an arrow