36 ECHOES OF SPORT 



went bounding on, and the three followed ; 

 not far however, for they soon came on him 

 again at a bend in the big burn, his yellow 

 body looming big and dark against the grey 

 background, his head black outlined, erect, 

 defiant. Within fifty yards now, down went 

 " Mistress M ' on to one knee, the rifle 

 shook slightly after that wild run, but the eye 

 was steady. Dewar called his dog off, the 

 shot whizzed out, the stag bounded and dis- 

 appeared over the rocky edge of the burn. 

 " You've mussed him/' muttered the stalker- 

 but the rifle smiled as she shook her head. " I 

 don't think so," she whispered quietly. A 

 few strides on, and there below, in a five foot 

 pool into which a waterfall played from ten 

 feet above, the stag lay floating, shot through 

 the heart and drowned. " I sar the boollet 

 strike a stone on the ither side, and I thocht 



Mistress M had mussed him," was 



Dewar's beaming apology. An answering 

 smile was the reply. There are moments on 

 the hill when words won't come, and the eyes 

 that looked down into the pool borrowed the 



