156 SPORT. 



but a sort of gloomy conviction is just stealing 

 on me that after all some touch of "stag fever" 

 must have possessed me, and that I really had 

 missed him ; when a huge reaction of hope and 

 joy welled up within me as I saw him lag behind 

 the others up the hill, slower and slower grow his 

 steps, till the others stop and wait for him. When 

 he overtakes them they start again, but he cannot 

 follow far. He lies down on the snow. I turn a 

 triumphant glance on the old prophet of evil, whose 

 face though less self-confident, has not lost its old 

 pessimist expression. The two young stags seem 

 puzzled, but they loyally detail themselves on vedette 

 duty while their chief rests. He himself, wounded 

 as he evidently is, keeps a sharp look-out down 

 the slope in our direction, and the old hunter, 

 while admitting that I have not missed, tells me 

 we have no chance of getting him. 



" They may stay there to-night," he growled, it 

 was getting dusk, "but they'll be miles away in 

 the morning." 



