104 THE RED DEER OF EXMOOR. 



stones which rattle down among those below. 

 The writer remembers one occasion when a lot of 

 hounds were hurt and one killed in this wav, and the 

 gallantry with which Colonel Bonham ran in under 

 a shower of stones to rescue a hound that had been 

 knocked senseless. 



Much admiration was expressed on that occasion 



at the exploits of a stranger who ran about the face 



of the cliff as if it was level ground, and we afterwards 



found out he w^as a well-known member of the Alpine 



Club. The stag's end in these cases is generally a 



fall to the rocks below, resulting in instant death, 



when the body is pulled up clear of the tideway and 



left to be fetched afterwards, for there are only two 



courses open to those who are on the shore, either to 



plod over the rough, rocky beach to Glenthorne^ or 



to scale the cliffs to the path above — no easy task, 



even when the lasso, or a string of whip lashes tied 



together, is available to steady one over the worst 



places. The latter is some help, no doubt, but is not 



to be relied on by welter-weights. To stumble over 



the rocks to Glenthorne is a weary job, especially if, 



as on the occasion mentioned above, an injured 



hound has to be carried. Those 26-inch hounds 



weigh more than anyone would think. The bearers 



tried carrying him in pairs, but the hound is an 



uncanny beast to handle in that way. Luckily a bit 



of wreckage formed a rough litter, and they got along 



better, but the tide was waist deep in places before 



Glenthorne was reached by a very wet and weary band. 



