THE PRODIGAL STAG 63 



remained quiet ; and deer dotted about in 

 various directions quietly feeding or lying. 



It seemed almost as if the beast were "fey," 

 or had been only a dream, and the shot and its 

 sequel a nightmare. 



A few yards from where he had lain strug- 

 gling Donald picked up a tiny tuft of hair and 

 flesh, otherwise there was not a drop of blood 

 anywhere to help to put the collie dog on the 

 track. 



We could only surmise that the bullet had 

 hit him very high on the back, scrufnng the 

 top of it, as a stag thus hit always drops sud- 

 denly from shock. If he gets up and dashes 

 off he is not supposed to be much the worse, 

 as there is practically no loss of blood. But 

 this is poor comfort to the disconsolate and 

 shame-faced rifle, and that day's events have 

 made me more nervous of seeing a stag drop 

 very quick and then struggle up than any 

 other antic he can perform. 



Five mortal hours did we search that hill- 

 side, back and forwards, up and down, to the 

 north and the south, but in vain. Not only 



