174 THE SALMON 



somewhat doubtfully shot at a stag and killed him, 

 you may find that he is one that it would have been 

 better to have allowed to grow for another year or 

 two on the hill, and you return with your victim 

 strapped on the pony rather apologetic than 

 triumphant. Although it is the stalker's business to 

 settle whether you are to shoot at a stag or not when 

 you are in a friend's forest, he is generally amiably 

 anxious to give you a shot ; and instances have been 

 known where infanticide has been the result of his un- 

 due confidence in the incapacity of a visitor to hold his 

 rifle straight. There is a well-known anecdote of a 

 guest at a forest who during his stay was almost daily 

 given a shot at a small beast which regularly fre- 

 quented a particular corrie not very far from the 

 lodge. Later in the season a more skilful professor 

 had his day in the forest. He watched the stalker 

 spying the ground, and when the long and deliberate 

 survey was over and the glass shut up, asked if any 

 deer had been seen. 'Hoot,' was the answer, 'just 

 nothing but that wee bit deevil, " Charlie Blake." ' 

 The little beast had acquired the name of the gentle- 

 man (not the one in the text) to whose inaccuracy 

 of aim he owed his life — but it might well have 

 happened that a chance bullet had ended his career. 

 It is always a pleasure to catch a fish at all ; but 



