NEW ZEALAND DEER-STALKING 111 



heavy breathing though he was still quite invisible. 

 We were rather above him and a thick grove of 

 trees separated us from the little burn. Very 

 gingerly I crawled down, advancing a few feet at 

 a time, gaining a little with each fresh roar. 



Suddenly, right in the middle of a hoarse grunt, 

 he broke off and a little crack came from behind 

 me. Never moving, I peered through the inter- 

 lacing branches, but not a thing could I see, though 

 I knew that he still stood here listening. The 

 sunlight fell slanting through the beech tops and 

 splashed the grass with gold. As I watched a grey 

 patch on which the sun fell moved ever so slightly. 

 Quite noiselessly the grey patch grew. Then the 

 tip of a horn glinted dully white ; from behind a 

 tree trunk developed a twitching nose and dripping 

 mouth. They in turn enlarged in a swollen neck, 

 black, and matted with muddy sweat. Then, last 

 of all, what I waited for. 



A red streak suddenly showed in his side and 

 he went crashing through the trees whilst I followed. 

 At the stream he paused, and while he hesitated, a 

 second shot brought him down. His nine points 

 were not large, but for all that he was an exceptional 

 stag, with a length of horn of forty-one and a half 

 inches. 



However, to appreciate this kind of shooting 

 one has to have been brought up to it, and Burton 

 and I accordingly resolved to try our luck in the 

 Hunter Valley, which runs parallel with the Dingle. 



