

CHASING THE ROE 51 



minutes later, he suddenly appears daintily trip- 

 ping towards me along the very ridge on which 

 I am seated in ambush, and stopping now and 

 again to listen. He is not more than two hundred 

 yards away, and I can see that he is a buck, and a 

 good one too. He stands for a moment uncertain 

 what course to pursue ; there certainly is danger 

 behind him, but he also seems to have a sort of 

 instinctive knowledge of something not altogether 

 right in front. I get a good look at him with my 

 field-glasses, and admire the beautiful little head, 

 which has its full complement of six points. 

 Unless he turns, those graceful horns ought to be 

 mine, for he can hardly fail to pass within sixty 

 yards of me, and although he is not a very large 

 mark I am comfortably seated, and have not the 

 breathless stalker's excuse for a wide shot, nor the 

 novice's stumbling-block of excitement. Another 

 minute and he is started at the renewed music of 

 the hounds, and is passing at a swift but easy trot 

 broadside below me. St. Hubert direct my aim ! 

 I pull the trigger, and the ball of the express 

 strikes him a little far back, but fortunately not 

 enough so to damage his haunch, and he sinks to 

 rise no more. 



Leaving my rifle, I scramble down the stones 

 through the brushwood, and have just time to 

 administer the coup de grdce before the dogs 

 arrive, and to chide them back in the direction 

 of the keepers before they can tear the flesh of 



