36 STALKS ABROAD 



It was on 24th September. The usual cold 

 light stealing in at the sides of our tent awakened 

 me, and after lying still for a few moments I heard 

 Burton remarking that he thought it was about 

 time we were scrambling out of our reindeer bags. 

 After thinking audibly and profanely about five 

 times, he scrambled. I followed suit. At first I 

 was at a loss to discover the reason for his un- 

 natural keenness, but on crawling out ,for break- 

 fast and finding him with the only big cup in the 

 outfit, I remembered too late a remark of the night 

 before. 



I had become accustomed after ten days to the 

 costume of Edward, my worthy hunter ; at first it 

 gave me, as it undoubtedly would some of my 

 stalker friends in Scotland, something of a shock. 



A pair of thin leather boots coming high up 

 over the ankles encased his feet. Surmounting 

 these were a pair of corduroy trousers which made 

 the most infernal noise when going through even 

 the most insignificant kinds of brush. The hiatus 

 disconnecting these with the straggling remains of 

 a bright red and green football jersey was filled 

 by a nondescript yellow garment whose name I 

 never ventured to inquire ; whilst the whole was 

 kept together by a pair of leather suspenders orna- 

 mented with horses' heads. To crown all was a 

 soft black felt hat (how old Scrope would have 

 rejoiced at the sight in these days of tweed caps !) 

 which, however, I will do- him the justice to admit, 



