MY FIRST STAG 



I felt as if I were going to be hanged the scenes 

 of my life passed in review before me I wished I 

 had never seen a rifle never seen a stag and all 

 this time I was attempting to hold steady on that 

 infinitesimally small bit of brown that seemed to 

 dance between the trees ! 



Crack ! The stag jumps up and gallops off, 

 accompanied by his harem. 



"I'm afraid he's missed," says the Prince. 



I will not take you through the agonies of the 

 remainder of that day, reader. How we found that 

 the bullet had just grazed one of those miserable 

 trees ! How we followed up the deer. How I had 

 a broadside shot at two hundred yards. How the 

 stag turned and faced me as I pulled the trigger ! 

 How the bullet sped forth only to find its billet in 

 some part of the beautiful nature that spread above 

 and around and beneath him ! 



The Prince was very kind. He said it was bad 



luck. Looking back now, I believe it was ! 



***** 



The next morning sees us out again, and making 

 for the same ground that we had passed over the 

 previous day. A roaring stag generally haunts the 

 same locality even if disturbed he comes back. 

 And there is no doubt about his roaring this 

 morning. His hoarse challenge echoes and re- 

 echoes from the self-same hollow. 



29 



