REMINISCENCES OF A ROSS-SHIRE FOREST. 135 



ing him for a few minutes I put my hand on the 

 rifle, but at that very moment he turned away from 

 us, "end on." He was not even then a difficult shot, 

 but I determined to make sure, and wait patiently till 

 he was inclined to give me a broadside, or something 

 like it. I had scarcely formed the resolution when 

 he turned up the hill again to look at the hinds, 

 raised his head in the air, and roared his challenge. 



" Xow, sir," said Duncan in an agonised whisper. 



Taking stead} 7 aim, I sighted him behind the 

 shoiilder, and almost before his roar was finished the 

 big stag fell over as dead as Julius Caesar. With a 

 yell like a " scalp-hunter," Duncan was upon him, 

 feeling in his pocket for his knife as he ran, and ere 

 I could get up it was in his throat. He was indeed 

 a splendid beast ; and as I gazed at him I almost felt 

 as if I should like to end my stalking career with 

 him. Xot an hour afterwards Duncan and I were 

 once more on " all-fours," stealing on our prey, and 

 just about as eager as before ; but I am anticipating. 

 After cleaning him we came very reluctantly to the 

 conclusion that it was impossible to get him home 

 that day, so we sat down beside him for a bit. 



" There's no hurry, Duncan," I said " we've done 

 a good day's Avork ; " and we talked, and smoked, 

 and "fought the battle o'er again." 



" I wouldn't have seen him missed, no, not for ten 

 pounds," said Duncan; and then I found he had 

 been suffering for some weeks from a kind of night- 



