MY FIRST STAG 



There is something pitiable in the appearance 

 of every wounded animal doubly so, when that 

 animal is a deer, with its great pathetic human- 

 looking eyes but I am afraid my feelings were 

 more of exultation than of pity at that moment. 



The poor beast moves slowly on, continually 

 stopping every few yards, until he passes out of 

 sight among the trees ; and after some minutes we 

 follow. 



There is no doubt about his being hit his path 

 is marked by drops of blood, and, from the way in 

 which it has spurted out, the bullet has evidently 

 passed through his lungs. 



He is lying down when we come up to him, 

 motionless, with one antler resting on the ground, 

 and to all appearance dead ; but the next moment 

 he is up, and has galloped off, before I can cock and 

 raise the rifle. 



The Prince and I both remark that we are 

 "blowed"; and then we sit down and hold a 

 council of war. 



The stag, though wounded, has evidently plenty 

 of "go" left in him, so, if we go after him at once, 

 we may follow at his tail all day, and lose him 

 altogether. We therefore decide to stay where we 

 are for half an hour, and give him a chance to lie 

 down, and grow stiff. 



It is broad daylight now, and the sun is high in 



33 



