Hunting the Stag 1 1 g 



Now, my friends, draw your girths, lend your aid 

 to stop the tufters, and make up your minds for a 

 run. . . . 



The tufters are stopped, not without some 

 difficulty. The pack leave their barn, and are 

 taken carefully up to a spot where it is convenient 

 to lay on, a shepherd who has viewed the deer on 

 the open moor lifts his hat on stick. We go to 

 the signal — the hounds press forward and are un- 

 restrained — they dash — fling their sterns — a whimper 

 — a crash — they are ofF, and a hundred horsemen 

 follow as best they may across the wild open 

 waste. . . . 



The pace is tremendous — the ground uneven and 

 often deep — already a tail, and many a gallant steed 

 sobbing. On — on still — till we come to the Badge- 

 worthy Water, a river, or large " burn," running 

 down by the covert bearing that name. On go 

 the pack — they reach the stream, and check for a 

 moment. Then half the hounds rush through it, 

 while many swim down stream giving tongue as 

 they go, and apparently hunting the deer down 

 the water. 



Beware ! for this is a critical moment. If the 

 stag has gone up stream the water will carry the 

 scent downwards, and the hounds will go on and 

 on for miles in a different direction to that in which 

 the deer has gone. In this instance I will wager 

 he has not gone far down stream, for from our 

 vantage ground as we came over the crest of the 

 hill I saw the sheep feeding quietly in yonder 

 "combe" by the river side, not "huddled" as 

 they would have been if our quarry had passed 

 near them — and moreover I descried a watchful 

 heron which was fishing in a shallow pool while 

 his companion flapped heavily and securely down 



