REMINISCENCES OF A ROSS-SHIRE FOREST. 119 



face of anguish seldom seen off the scaffold, just you 

 lead quietly up to it again. It always ends the same 

 way : " He is a nice gentleman, sir a very nice 

 gentleman; but lie is not a good shot." Capable 

 men as those gillies undoubtedly are, a sportsman, 

 especially after a season or two, ought to have an 

 opinion of his own. Callum Beg averred that the 

 Sunday seldom "cam aboon the pass of Bally- 

 Brough." I am not quite sure where the pass of 

 Bally-Brough is, but it appears to me tluit many men 

 leave their intellects annually to be recovered on 

 the homeward journey far south of where I imagine 

 that classic spot to be; Donald's decision, "You 

 (1 him, sir," or " He's hit," being accepted with- 

 out a murmur. On three different occasions I have 

 been assured by gillies of experience too that my 

 stag was clean missed. Each time I stuck to my 

 own opinion, and all three stags found their way to 

 the larder. The following is a case in point : One 

 cold wet October day, some years ago, I was out in 

 the forest with old Duncan, and a very young gillie 

 answering to the name of Eory. Youth and inex- 

 perience, coupled with a very imperfect knowledge 

 of the English language, were Eory's only failings. 

 To the pedestrian powers of Mr E. P. "Weston or 

 "Blower" Brown, he added the eye of a hawk with 

 the strength of a Galloway bull. That day I saw 

 more deer together than I ever saw in my life before ; 

 and from that very reason that there were so many 



