FEALAR 297 



on all the line of ridges ahead were lying and watch- 

 ing below, and I was often in full view, but at last 

 I reached the rounded hillock in front of the marsh 

 and found I could go no further. It was a case of 

 waiting for the deer to move into a better position 

 (which seemed most unlikely), or taking a shot at 

 400 yards. Two hours went by, and the deer rose 

 and began to feed, but not to move over the ridge, 

 so I decided to try the shot. The light was bad, 

 as the sun was setting behind the deer, and I was 

 not surprised when I saw the bullet cut the peat 

 beneath the stag. 



After this all the deer at once moved upwards 

 to the open slopes, and again I could not advance 

 nearer than 500 yards, so I showed myself to put 

 them over the ridge, and saw them break into 

 several lots just as it began to get dark. 



I now made for the path for home, and suddenly, 

 hearing a stag roaring just in front of me, not half 

 a mile from the Lodge, decided that if I could see 

 him he should die. Deer were moving everywhere 

 up on the shoulder to my right, but apparently the 

 roaring stag and his hinds, who were in a hollow, 

 had not seen them, so when I looked down on the 

 small party they were quite quiet. The stag gave 

 me an easy chance at 100 yards and fell to a heart- 

 shot after running a few yards. He was a big 

 seven-pointer with very thick horns. 



Thus ended my stalking for 1918. In twelve 

 days' stalking I had shot eleven stags, of which 

 six had heads worth taking home. This is a much 

 higher percentage than usually occurs. In stalking 

 for thirty-five years in Highland forests I have 

 always counted myself lucky if I got one good head 



