64 ECHOES OF SPORT 



was there no sign of our stag, but during the 

 whole of our search no other deer seemed 

 disturbed. 



The charm of the day was gone for me ; the 

 grandeur of the hills, the beauty of all the sur- 

 rounding scenery faded from sight and mind. 

 I had had a chance a child of ten would not 

 have missed, and I had made a real mess 

 of it. Far too sick at heart was I to even 

 wish to try for another stag. 



It is an accepted fact that no one would 

 care for sport were it always successful. This 

 is undoubtedly true, if for no other reason, 

 that failure acts as a fresh spur to blot out 

 the transgressions and the idioticies of the 

 past, when non-success, as in this case, can be 

 laid at one's own door. 



Coming along the ridge for the last time, we 

 found a tiny calf asleep, a little spotted thing, 

 very small and backward for that time of 

 year. It was quite tame, and not in the 

 least frightened at being stroked. I longed 

 to take it home, though a live calf, however 

 pretty, is a poor substitute for a lost stag. 



