270 CASUALS IN THE CAUCASUS 



picture would bring a pang to the heart of the most 

 case-hardened slaughterer, and such, I fear, I most 

 surely was. 



Hunting of this variety is not sport, the only sporting 

 element in it was the off-chance that my rifle might 

 miss fire. 'Tis a vastly different thing to the tracking 

 of a dangerous jungle beast, master of every protective 

 artifice, with cunning wiles and keen resourceful 

 machinations. In such stalks the scales are even, for 

 the ardent tracker himself is followed. Hard on his 

 heels spoors the Grey Sportsman, greatest of all 

 hunters, whose quarry we all must be one day or other. 



Crack ! Crack ! The death knell rang through the 

 forest, reverberating in circles, breaking into spasmodic 

 echoes. The stag, shot through the heart, tucked 

 himself up, set off at best pace for a few yards, to roll 

 over — dead. 



With a whirr of wings a cock pheasant got up, and 

 followed the flight of the startled does down the green 

 corridors. 



Mine the mighty deer, mine the wondrous head 

 with its stately crown, one of the fascinating animals 

 which bears antlers. 



My hand closed round the slender tines, and my 

 eyes ran up and down this thing of branching beauty 

 springing from either pedicel. The soft protective 

 casing of velvet had long left the hard dry mass. 

 How strange to think of it as ever tender, pliable, 

 pulsating with life, to believe that busy living cells had 

 manufactured this exquisite coronal, and all for me ! 



When the Indians made their Paradise a happy 



