CHAP. TWENTY-ONE MY FIRST STAG 



lately touched the trigger, feeling at the same time sure of 

 my aim. The ball went true and down he fell. I began re- 

 loading, but before I had half done the stag was up again 

 and making play after the hinds, who were galloping up a 

 gentle slope of the hill. The poor beast was evidently mov- 

 ing with the greatest difficultyand pain; sometimes coming 

 to his knees, and then recovering himself with a strong 

 effort, he still managed to keep not far behind them. I sat 

 down in utter despair: looking round too for Donald and 

 Bran I could see nothingof them. Between anxiety and vex- 

 ation I did not knowwhat to do. All at once I saw the hinds 

 dash away in different directions, and the next moment my 

 gallant Bran appeared in the midst of them. Ishoutedwith 

 joy. On came the dog.takingno notice of the hinds, but mak- 

 ing straight for the stag, who stood still for one instant, and 

 then rushed with apparently full vigour down the hill. Down 

 they came towards the burn, the dog not five yards behind 

 the stag, but unable to reach his shoulder (the place where 

 he always struck his game). In a few moments deer and 

 hound went headlong and seemingly both together intothe 

 burn. Donald appeared running like a lunatic: with good 

 judgment he had, when I left him, gone to cut off the deer 

 in case I wounded one and it took upthe hill. As good luck 

 would have it, the hinds had led off the stag right up to 

 where Donald and Bran were, notwithstanding his inclin- 

 ation to go the other way. I ran to see what had become of 

 them in the burn, expecting to find the stag at bay. When 

 I got there, however, it was all over. The deer had probab- 

 ly tumbled from weakness, and Bran had got his fangs well 

 intothe throat of the poor brute before he could rise again. 

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