A Fine Trophy, 



below, but as he, too, was small I did not worry about him. 

 Soon after this we heard one call far down in the valley to our 

 left, which, from his tone, we judged to be our friend of the 

 evening before, so started hot on the trail. He kept on calling, 

 so that we were able to keep in touch with him. Our way lay 

 through the thick forest, the going being easy, the heavy moss 

 with which the ground was carpeted deadening the sound of our 

 movements. Lower down we reached a point where it was 

 somewhat difficult, and broken by rocks and decidedly precipitous. 

 The Kalmuks moved round to avoid this, but I, taking a short 

 cut, very nearly came to grief, sending down an avalanche the 

 noise of which reverberated throughout the valley. The Kalmuks 

 said we must now stand fast and await developments, and right 

 glad I was to presently hear the stag calling again, obviously 

 undisturbed by a few cartloads of rock. We were still some 

 400 feet above the valley bottom, so descended still further. 

 The going was now fairly good, consisting of deep soft moss, 

 though the ground was strewn with branches and twigs. 



We were now getting close to where the wapiti had last called, 

 when suddenly we caught sight of him moving down through 

 the forest on the opposite side. He was too far off to risk a shot, 

 besides which we only got a fleeting glimpse of him now and then 

 as he went downward, seeming inclined to cross the stream into 

 the forest on our side. I therefore took cover behind a fallen 

 tree trunk and awaited the chance of a favourable shot. Beneath 

 me, about a hundred yards off, was a small open patch on my 

 side of the brook, and I was in hopes the stag might appear on 

 this and give me a snap shot. Sure enough he came on, working 

 down through the forest, and, crossing the stream, showed up 

 momentarily on the open grass plot. I lost no time in covering 

 him behind the shoulder — another of my good luck shots, which 

 was a finisher. Over he went, turning a complete somersault, 

 whilst I dreaded his horns might be smashed. When I got 

 down to him I realised what a fine trophy I had bagged — 14 

 points, and beautifully shaped horns taping 49 inches along the 



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