120 TJIAVEL, ADVENTURE, AND SPOET. 



of them, and that they were scattered over a flat 

 piece of ground like a Lowland grouse-moor they 

 were almost impossible to approach. It was, with- 

 out exception, the coldest, wettest, and most difficult 

 stalk I ever attempted ; and it was not till late in 

 the afternoon, about four o'clock (we had been at it 

 since eleven), that I found myself within reasonable 

 distance of what we had decided was the best beast. 

 The shot was not a nice one either, but I was perfectly 

 certain I was on him. Both gillies, however ex- 

 perienced and inexperienced promptly decided he 

 wasn't touched. I didn't say much, but I didn't 

 think the less. Walking forward to a ridge over 

 which the herd had disappeared, and followed reluc- 

 tantly by the men, I cast my eye to the westward. 

 There stood the stag, not a quarter of a mile off, poor 

 beast ! deserted by his friends, on the lone hillside, 

 motionless, with his head between his legs, in the 

 attitude of an old cab-horse after having taken a 

 " four-wheeler " with a family for Margate, and a 

 corresponding amount of luggage, from the salubrious 

 St John's AYood to Victoria. 



" He's hit, sir, he's hit ! " exclaimed Eory, in- 

 tensely excited. 



" Rather so, my man," I replied. " Keep your 

 head down. Take your glass, Duncan, and tell me 

 where." 



To show yourself to a wounded stag, however badly 

 he may appear hit, is of all fatal mistakes the most 



