REMINISCENCES OF THE LEWS. 167 



" For ony sake, don't miss him. Take time, 

 for ony sake, and kill him dead ! — the ill-fared 

 beestie ! " groaned Norman again. 



Now this was not pleasant. I am by no 

 means a sure rifle-shot — on the contrary, a 

 very bad one. The two men evidently thought 

 the stag dangerous, and depended on me for 

 protection. I had no stomach for the afi^air at 

 all ; but I thought it better to be a tailor than 

 a cur. I had not much time for further con- 

 sideration, for the stag appeared over the brow 

 of the hill under which our rock was, and 

 came right down on us. Thinks I to myself, 

 for I have some Tipperary blood in my veins, 

 if we are in for a scrimmage, it's not lying 

 on my face and stomach I'll be, but standing 

 on my feet. So I stood straight up. On 

 came my friend, facing me, not giving me a 

 chance of his side. I was determined, if he 

 kept this position, not to fire till he was so 

 close that I could shoot him through the neck 

 and break his spine. At about twelve yards, I 

 should say, he stood and turned his head, and 

 eyed one a little askance. This gave me a 

 chance, and I fired ; and, though he did not 

 drop dead, he was quite paralyzed, and soon 

 gave up the ghost. Great were the congratu- 

 lations of my two companions, and great waa 



