134 A HUNDRED YEARS 



or help them. That was the worst day's job for fatigue 

 that either of us ever met with. I suppose we had to 

 hoist up the stag on to the pony about fifty times on the 

 way. Had we known what was before us, we would 

 never have handled him, but once we started pride 

 carried us through, and our praise when he was in the 

 larder was great. 



" In all my stalking it surprises me that I only once 

 came across a wounded deer. Being abstainers, I 

 believe they soon recover from wounds. I have often 

 found shed horns, but have seldom seen the bones of a 

 dead deer in the forest. Yet they must often die un- 

 known at the time of being shot. Once, trotting along 

 the top of the Glas Leitir wood, I started a hind in the 

 brae about a hundred yards above me. I took a flying 

 shot at her, but felt it was a miss. I loaded and went 

 forward, never troubling to look where she had gone, till, 

 about a quarter of a mile on, I saw a little burn red, 

 evidently, with blood. Walking up it a few hundred 

 yards, I found the hind stone dead, the heart 

 actually cut in two by my bullet. The one wounded deer 

 that I ever got was a fine old stag who for years had been 

 devoted to the Taagan corn at the head of Loch Maree. 



" When Hector Mackenzie complained to me of his 

 loss of crop through deer I said to him, what Sir George 

 Mackenzie used to say to me, ' Shoot them, shoot them. 

 Hector was no great gunner, but he took a shot at his 

 enemy and made him clear out, at all events for the 

 season. Next year, however, he was back again, though 

 his footmarks only were seen. Having Colonel Inge's 

 keen-nosed lurcher Gill with me for some such lethal 



