292 Notes on Sport and Travel i 



and keener-scented hinds thrown out in every 

 direction, sentinels who never slumber or sleep, but 

 keep every nerve on the stretch to preserve their 

 great lord from harm. How can we hope to slay 

 him in the very centre of his court ? 



' They're as wise as Christians — 'deed, they're 

 wiser ! but we'll do it,' says Donald, as he softly closes 

 his prospect ; and he does it : how, I should like to 

 tell you in this particular case, which was a miracle 

 of stalking, but I cannot. Dream out a stalk for 

 yourself ; suppose the wind gained, and every 

 difficulty overcome, and remember the throbbing of 

 your heart when you raised your head gently, — 

 gently, — over the heather. What a thicket of antlers! 

 Wait patiently till they rise. What is that clashing, 

 as if a company of Life Guardsmen had simulta- 

 neously begun backsword play ? The young stags 

 fighting. Venture another peep. Horror ! is that a 

 young six-pointer staring steadily at us ? Believe it 

 not, noble youth ! We are but two gray stones. 

 Still the antlers of the master-hart are steady above 

 the heather ; one after another the younger stags feed 

 down towards the burn ; the hinds go with them, turn- 

 ing back to invite their great lord to follow. See 

 those two or three determined tossings of the mighty 

 antlers ; he is going to rise — he is up ! Steady, for 

 a moment, for a broadside — now, while he is curving 

 his back, and stretching himself out like a lion. 

 Now ! — crack ! — slap ! — Up into the bauk ! There 

 are the hinds and young stags huddled together ; 



