The mode of setting the nets is singularly ingenious. When a suitable spot has been selected, the first care of the hunters is to stretch a rope as tightly as possible along the ground. For this purpose stout wooden stakes or truncheons are sunk crosswise in the earth, and between these the rope is carefully strained. The favourite locality of the net is a ravine, through which the animals can be driven so as to run against the net in their efforts to escape, and across the ravine a whole row of these stakes is sunk. The net is now brought to the spot, and its lower edge fastened strongly to the ground rope.
The strength of this mode of fastening is astonishing, and, although the stakes are buried scarcely a foot below the surface, they cannot be torn up by any force which can be applied to them; and, however strong the rope may be, it would be broken before the stakes could be dragged out of the ground.
A smaller rope is now attached to the upper edge of the net, which is raised upon a series of slight poles. It is not stretched quite tightly, but droops between each pair of poles, so that a net which is some thirteen feet in width will only give nine or ten feet of clear height when the upper edge is supported on the poles. These latter are not fixed in the ground, but merely held in their places by the weight of the net resting upon them.
When the nets have been properly set, the beaters make a wide circuit through the country, gradually advancing towards the fatal spot, and driving before them all the wild animals that inhabit the neighbourhood. As soon as any large beast, such, for example, as an antelope, strikes against the net, the supporting pole falls, and the net collapses upon the unfortunate animal, whose struggles—especially if he be one of the horned animals—only entangle him more and more in the toils.
As soon as the hunters see a portion of the net fall, they run to the spot, kill the helpless creature that lies enveloped in the elastic meshes, drag away the body, and set up the net again in readiness for the next comer. Sometimes the line of nets will extend for half a mile or more, and give employment to a large staff of hunters, in killing the entangled animals, and raising afresh those portions of the net which had fallen.
Accepting the theory that the Tô is one of the large antelopes that inhabit, or used to inhabit, the Holy Land and its neighbourhood, we may safely conjecture that it may signify the beautiful animal known as the Oryx (Oryx leucoryx), an animal which has a tolerably wide range, and is even now found on the borders of the Holy Land. It is a large and powerful antelope, and is remarkable for its beautiful horns, which sometimes exceed a yard in length, and sweep in a most graceful curve over the back.
Sharp as they are, and evidently formidable weapons, the manner in which they are set on the head renders them apparently unserviceable for combat. When, however, the Oryx is brought to bay, or wishes to fight, it stoops its head until the nose is close to the ground, the points of the horns being thus brought to the front. As the head is swung from side to side, the curved horns sweep through a considerable space, and are so formidable that even the lion is chary of attacking their owner. Indeed, instances are known where the lion has been transfixed and killed by the horns of the Oryx. Sometimes the animal is not content with merely standing to repel the attacks of its adversaries, but suddenly charges forward with astonishing rapidity, and strikes upwards with its horns as it makes the leap.
