DEER-STALKING. 207 



I fly over the ground as one does in a dream. 

 My blood is up now, and I thoroughly understand 

 Donald's tactics, for I can see the deer travelling 

 below us on our left, cleverly headed back by 

 Archie from crossing to the opposite side of the 

 corrie, and I see the point Donald is making for 

 — a knoll below us which will command the spot 

 where the foremost deer have already crossed a 

 small burn, and where, consequently, " Clubfoot," 

 who is well in the rear, is sure to cross to. 



Panting, I reach the knoll and throw myself 

 down on the soft moss beside the rifle which 

 Donald has already placed ready for me, with the 

 barrel protruding down the steep hill-side. " Tak 

 time — Tak time, sir ! " he exhorts. " That's not 

 him ! " he almost shrieks, as I seem about to shoot 

 at one of the minor deer, but I am only judging 

 the distance by the sight of the rifle on the beasts 

 as they pass. " He's last but one ! " — No fear ! 

 I know him well — and although a galloping shot 

 at about 180 yards is not quite so easy as one 



