CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO AUTUMN 



On the height of the hill he halted, and stretching out his 

 neck and lowering his head, bellowed again. He then rush- 

 ed down the hill like a mad beast: when half way down he 

 was answered from a distance by another stag. He in- 

 stantly halted, and looking in that direction roared repeat- 

 edly, while we could see in the evening air, which had be- 

 come cold and frosty, his breath coming out of his nostrils 

 like smoke. Presently he was answered by another and an- 

 other stag, and the whole distance seemed alive with them. 

 A more unearthly noise I never heard, as it echoed and re- 

 echoed through the rocky glens that surrounded us. 



The setting sun threw a strong light on the first com- 

 er, casting a kind of yellow glare on his horns and head, 

 while his body was in deep shade, giving him a most singu- 

 lar appearance, particularly when combined with his hoarse 

 and strange bellowing. As the evening closed in, their cries 

 became almost incessant, while here and there we heard 

 the clash of horns as two rival stags met and fought a few 

 rounds together. None, however, seemed inclined to try 

 their strength with the large hart who had first appeared. 

 The last time we saw him, in the gloom of the evenine, he 

 was rolling in a small pool of water, with several of the 

 hinds standing quietly round him, while the smaller stao-s 

 kept passing to and fro near the hinds, but afraid to ap- 

 proach too close to their watchful rival, who was always 

 ready to jump up and dash at any of them who ventured 

 within a certain distance of his seraglio. "Donald," I whis- 

 pered, "I would not have lost this sight for a hundred 

 pounds." "Deed, no; it's grand," said he. "In all my travels 

 on the hill I never saw the like." 

 409 



