290 WANDERINGS AND MEMORIES 



view MacDougall remarked, " I think he is too far." 

 " Well, I don't know," I replied. " I am going to 

 have a shot." Allowing merely an ordinary full 

 sight, though the distance was a good 300 yards, 

 I pressed the trigger, and the bullet struck just to 

 the right of the stag's neck. Throwing out the 

 fired cartridge I tried again, and the stag fell head 

 over heels off the path, got up again, ran another 

 few yards and collapsed. It was a satisfactory shot, 

 but hardly wiped out my two bad misses. The 

 stag had long horns, 33 inches, and eleven points, 

 but the brows and bays were somewhat inferior. 



As we kept the other three herds in view, for they 

 had now massed together in one scattered group of 

 some two hundred animals, we noticed that the only 

 other large stag, a nine-pointer, was a fine animal, 

 and worth shooting, so, having gralloched our 

 stag, we followed, and had a most delightful stalk 

 of about half a mile, crawling up the side of a 

 burn until we could get no further, as the deer 

 were all scattered on the open face in front of us. 

 The moving of large herds of deer at this season 

 always means constant excitement, for several 

 fresh stags had come in, and were busy trying to 

 steal groups of hinds from the one master stag. 



At first this master stag kept far from us, driving 

 out four of the new-comers, but in time he worked 

 back to the centre of the main body of the hinds, 

 and was at last about 170 yards from our position. 

 As the light was beginning to fail I resolved to try 

 him, and the result was a bull's eye through the 

 heart. He ran, as usual, about thirty yards and 

 then rolled over dead. He was a grand heavy 

 beast, but one top was spoilt by ending abruptly, 



